I start to laugh, but it catches in my throat because my car comes into view.I stop walking so quickly Theo clips my shoulder.He turns to look at me, and the cocky smirk on his face evaporates.When he looks back at the car, it’s replaced with anger.“Holy shit.Is that yours?’
“Yeah.”
“We need to call the police.”
“O-Okay,” I stutter as I take a step toward my SUV.The taillights are in pieces on the pavement.The side windows are blown out, and there is glass everywhere.The back tires… I move closer …andthe front tires are all deflated.Theo takes my hand and pulls me away from the car.
He’s got his phone to his ear, telling someone what happened.As he explains where the parking garage is, he pulls me into his chest in a one-armed hug.I shouldn’t need a hug, but I do, so I wrap my arms around him and hold on.“Police are on their way.”
I close my eyes.“Fucking hell.That’s what I get for leaving my car in a public garage overnight.”
“I think it’s more than that,” Theo says cautiously, and he tucks his phone back into the pocket of his jacket and cups the back of my head.“I think we both know this might not be random.”
“But it might be,” I argue, because I can’t fathom that Pete would do this.I mean, it’s extreme and evil, but why would you do that over a one—or two—night stand?
“We’ll drop his name with the cops and see what they think,” Theo says calmly.
I nod and step away from him.“Sure.Whatever.I should call Landon and Callan.”
I swallow down my fear and embarrassment and dig my phone out of my bag.I don’t know why I feel embarrassed, but I do.If Pete did this, then I truly attract the worst kind of men, and I’m too stupid to realize it.That’s on me.
Chapter11
Theo
We’re going to win this.We have to.If we don’t, then we will have officially lost more games this month than we’ve won, and I refuse to let that happen.I grip my stick tighter and rock anxiously on the bench as I wait for the shift change.We’re losing to the Vancouver Comets 3-2, and there are eleven minutes left in the third.The second line d-pairing hops the boards, so Callan and I hit the ice.
Our forwards, Conner, Landon, and Xavier Gagne, are setting up for a face-off because the ref called offside.I take my position.Landon lines up near Ryder Finch, a winger for the Comets… who, for some reason, is glaring at me.I lock eyes with him, and he glares harder.As the ref gets ready to drop the puck, I flip through the muddled memories in my brain to try to remember any conflict I might have had with Finch in previous seasons.I don’t remember one.In fact… wasn’t he the guy I went barhopping with at my first All-Star game?
The puck drops.Conner doesn’t win the face-off, so I go to work, skating off to defend our zone.Finch has the puck, and I come at him with a hard but clean hit.It sandwiches him into the boards and gets him off the puck, which Gagne scoops up and skates away with.I’m about to follow when my head snaps forward.I turn and catch a second of Finch’s glove before it connects with my chin.The impact has me tumbling and I almost hit the ground, but manage to stay on my skates.“Fuck off, asshole.”
He’s dropped his stick, and his gloves go next.With one hand, he reaches up and yanks off his helmet.With the other, he grabs a fistful of my jersey and yanks.Skates are the worst for holding your position.He yanks me forward, and I slide shakily into Finch’s chest.“Fight me, you fucking homophobe!”
I lock eyes with him again.“What the fuck are you talking about?”
He responds with a punch.I’m still in my helmet, so I don’t feel it much, and he winces.“Don’t break your hand, dude.”
I hear the whistle as the refs finally notices we’re not in the game anymore.
He shakes me by the jersey again.“Can’t fight anymore?Fucking coward.”
“Sure, let’s go with that.”I shrug, and he swears at me again.
“What the fuck, you two!”the linesman grumbles and starts to pull us apart.Finch won’t let go of my jersey, though, and his glare is trying to incinerate me.“You’ve got two Finch and if you don’t want more get to the box now, for fucks sake.”
“Sorry,” I say, even though I’m not a hundred percent sure of what I did.
“Fight me next time, asshole, and therewillbe a next time,” Finch yells as he finally lets go and skates toward the penalty box.
Callan skates over to me as I head to the bench.“What the fuck was that?”
“I don’t know.”
“What use is a defenseman who can’t drop his fucking gloves?”Gagne barks at me, and it makes both my eyebrows and Callan’s eyebrows shoot up.Isn’t he supposed to be on our side?
“What the fuck, Gagne?!”Callan glares at him but continues to skate with me to the bench.“What the fuck’sthatabout?”
“Xavier has barely said two words to me since I got here, so… no idea.”
