Pucked Off (Pucked #6)(94)

Lance takes a sip of his water and clears his throat. “I didn’t want to mess things up and make you worry while I was gone. I guess that kind of backfired, huh?”

“I don’t understand the point of keeping it from me. Why not be honest that your ex was going to be there in the first place? This makes it look like you were hiding it.”

“That’s not what I meant to do.” He’s so forlorn.

“If we’re going to have any chance of working, we have to be transparent with each other. Especially about this kind of thing. It’s not avoidable, but I don’t want to be blindsided by it. Today was horrible for me. I’ve spent the entire day on edge, feeling awful and wondering what was so damaging that you needed to be here before I could see it.”

“I know. I’m sorry. But you get why I asked for that, right?”

“How often is this kind of thing going to happen? Are you going to avoid going out with your teammates every time you’re in LA? I mean, really, even that isn’t enough, is it?”

“Maybe you could come with me next time.”

“To LA?”

“Aye.”

“Why would I come to LA when you don’t even have me come to home games? What are you hiding from me? Her?”

“I’m not hiding anything. I’m protecting you.”

“From what? Or who?”

“The bunnies, the media crap. People will take pictures of you just like when we went out for dinner. But if you come to LA, you’ll know exactly where I am and what I’m doing.”

“It’s not the media I’m worried about. I don’t want to police your actions, Lance. I want to be part of your life, more than just this little slice you’ve carved out for us.”

“I just don’t want you dragged into all the shitty stuff that comes with being with someone like me.”

“You mean like Tash? You said she comes to your games when you’re in LA. And if she’s there, then what? Will she confront me? Will she do things to hurt me? You?”

He drops his head again. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. I told her it was done for good this time, that I wasn’t doing this with her any more. And I meant it. I don’t want to be that person.”

“I don’t understand why you still talk to her when she does these kinds of things to you. Why answer her calls at all? Why is she still messaging you?”

“She got vindictive if I didn’t respond. I didn’t feel like I had a choice.”

“But you gave her that power. Why let her have it at all?”

He’s fidgety, struggling with my questions. “I don’t know. We have similar backgrounds. She made it hard to walk away.”

“You realize these are all excuses you’re making for both of you. She still seems like part of your present, like you can’t let her go. If it’s only me, it can’t be her, too.”

“But she’s not part of my present any more. I told her that last night. I know she’s not good for me, and I don’t want that any more.”

“This is a discussion we should’ve had before you went away. We’ve been seeing each other for weeks. When would you have told me about her if this hadn’t happened?”

“I wanted to. I would have,” he says quickly.

“But when? She’s called when I’ve been with you. Do you call her back later? When we’re not together?”

“I’ve been ignoring her. I only talked to her that one time, and only because she kept calling, and I wanted to be clear that I wasn’t going to see her in LA. I promise I won’t talk to her any more. If she calls, I won’t answer. I’ll get a new phone so she doesn’t have my number. I’ll do anything, Poppy. Just please, give me a chance to fix this.”

I can hear the child in him, the beaten one, the one who’s been abandoned over and over again. But I have to protect myself too.

“This is a lot to take in, Lance. I don’t want to be responsible for allowing my heart to be broken.”

Panic flares in his eyes. “So what does that mean? Are you saying it’s over?”

“I’m not saying this is over. It’s not black and white. But I need some time to process all of this.”

His agitation makes the whole couch shake. His foot is going on the floor, the vibrations making the ice tinkle in his glass on the table. His elbows balance on his shaking knees, his fists clenching and releasing. I’m not sure whether to be afraid for him right now or not. I know he won’t hurt me, but he has a tendency to find ways to hurt himself.

I’ve seen him fight on the ice before, watched him take hits over and over until he’s finally had enough. He has to be pushed hard before he breaks. It’s like watching a rubber band snap, a bomb explode.

He runs a rough hand through his hair and down over his face. Balling it into a fist, he presses it against his mouth and makes a low sound. “How much?”

“How much what?”

“How much time will you need?” His voice is mangled.

“I don’t know. A week? Maybe more?”

He makes a noise that sounds a lot like a sob. “And I can’t see you at all?”

Oh, God. The look on his face is breaking my heart more than that picture, and that picture shredded me. “It’s not a good idea.”