Shut Out (Bayard Hockey #1)(45)

“Thank f*ck for hockey.” He grimaces. “It was my way out of that garbage pit life. I always knew I wanted better and I worked my ass off to get out of there.”

I lift my shot glass to him. “And you did it, bro.”

“Not yet, I haven’t. I mean, yeah, I got out, but I want more. That’s why I hafta get drafted. I gotta make it into the NHL.”

I nod. “Me too.”

“Why?” Buck eyes me with owlish curiosity.

“I just do.” I shrug. “Without hockey…I got nothin’.”

“Eh, you got golf, man! Or engineering. Hey! You could write episodes of How It’s Made.”

I snort-laugh. “Right.”

“You got no worries, man. You’ll be drafted, for sure.”

“Not so sure of that.” I grimace. “I had to pull out of the draft last spring because of all the shit that went down. What if I’m still in the bad books?”

“Seriously? A guy with talent like you have? Teams don’t care about crap like that. They want someone who can score goals and win games. Make money for them. That’s the bottom line.”

“So cynical for one so young.”

“Phhht. Realistic is what I am. Come on. You’ll be drafted.”

“So will you.”

Buck reaches over and clinks his glass against mine. Tequila sloshes out, but whatever. We tip them back.

Next thing I know, there’s a lot of hooting laughter and yelling.

“What? What?” I try to wake up and lift my head to peer around. Where am I? What’s going on? Who’s…? Jesus f*ck, I’m cuddled up against Buck on the couch.

“You look so cute together.” Rocket is killing himself laughing. “You been hiding something from us?”

That’s pretty hilarious, since we just shared our deepest, darkest secrets with each other in a drunken exchange. And then apparently passed out. I scrub a hand over my face, feeling out of it, my mouth all dry and stuck shut. “Yeah, now you know our secret.”

“Why him?” Soupy frowns at Buck. “I’m hotter than he is.”

“In your dreams, dude.” I smirk at Soupy.

Buck squints, then frowns at me. “You’re dreaming about me?”

“Yeah, man. Every night.” I lean in and make kissy noises. The guys crack up all over again, Soupy collapsing into a chair. Tears run down his face.

“Get the f*ck away from me.” Buck shoves at me.

“If that’s what you want.” I shake my head and stand, a little wobbly. “I need more sleep. Hitting the sack.”

“Alone?” Rocket taunts me as I climb the stairs.

I show him my middle finger over my shoulder and he cracks up again.

—

The next morning Buck and I meet up in the kitchen, both grabbing bottles of water out of the fridge to wash down our painkillers.

“Shit.” Buck rubs his forehead. “What were we thinking?”

“We weren’t. Fuck, my head hurts.”

“Mine too.”

Our eyes meet and we crack up.

Knowing Buck’s past actually makes me like him more. He’s had his struggles too, and I kind of get why he dresses so well, sort of like a costume or a mask, trying to escape the life he had growing up.

Seriously, nothing is a better bonding experience than getting drunk and then being hungover together.





Chapter 17


Skylar


Jacob and I are studying for midterms in the kitchen at my place. I’m struggling with quantum mechanics. Honestly, the talk of light waves being a combination of oscillating electric and magnetic fields makes my head spin. This shit makes no sense at all, and I want to pick up my textbook and hurl it through the window. As I imagine doing that, Jacob covers one of my hands with his.

“Relax, babe.”

I turn my gaze to his, pressure building inside me. “Easy for you to say.” He’s already aced three midterm exams, apparently without even breaking a sweat.

He stands and moves around behind my chair. His big hands drop onto my shoulders and he starts massaging. “Jesus. You’ve got rocks here.”

I groan at the feeling of his hands on my tight muscles. “Oh my God.”

He kneads and squeezes, finding spots of exquisite pain that he gently works until they release.

“Wow,” I breathe. “You’re good at this.”

“I love getting a massage. I guess I’ve picked up a few things.”

He digs his thumbs into my spine, down between my shoulder blades. I whimper.

“Okay?”

“Oh yeah. More than okay.”

He continues to work on me, up my neck, back to my shoulder. “You’re killing yourself, Sky,” he murmurs. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

His question makes me tense again, and he squeezes my upper arms.

I release a long breath and let my head fall forward. His fingertips find two spots at the base of my skull that are tender. “I have to do this.”

“Why?”

“I told you. My sister’s going to be a doctor.”

He massages my neck more. “Do you think your parents won’t love you if you don’t become a doctor like her?”