Puck Block : A Brother’s Best Friend Hockey Romance (Bexley U)
Puck Block : Chapter 46

Taytum: Do not pull the same stunt you pulled for Riley’s tryouts. Wear something nice.

Me: What do you mean? You don’t want the hockey team to write each letter of your name on our stomachs and do the wave during the recital?

Taytum: Do not. I’m already nervous!

Me: Oh, come on! You’re no fun.

Taytum: I’ll lock my bedroom window later if you come up to my show without a shirt, Ford.

I’d just use the front door, but whatever.

Me: Fine!

Taytum: Thank you.

Me: Maybe I’ll just come naked. That’s a nice view, right?

Taytum: FORD!

I smile until my phone disappears and is flying through the locker room doing multiple flips. It lands on the tiled floor, and my heart falls to my ass when I see Emory grinning. He reaches for it, and I go old-school on him. I give him a quick jab in the neck before diving down, snatching my phone, and putting it in my boxers so he’ll think twice about grabbing it.

“Wow,” he muses. “You must be texting someone good if you’re willing to pull that move.”

Theo whips his attention in my direction, but I can’t look at him because he knows I’m messing around with Taytum, and I know he disapproves.

He doesn’t care that I’m with her, but he does care that I’m hiding it from our goalie.

As captain, his job is to make sure the team dynamic is a ten out of ten, and if his beloved, hot-headed goalie replaces out that his best friend is fucking his sister behind his back, well…things are going to get heated.

“Go on,” I joke. “Grab the phone.” I thrust my hips at him, but there’s sweat trailing down my back at the thought of him replaceing out like this.

I told Taytum to say the word and I’d come clean to Emory.

But she’s hesitant, and we have bigger things to worry about right now.

Like the phone number I snagged from my aunt that’s burning a hole in my conscience.

“You’re so desperate for anyone to touch your dick that you’re going to trick me into it?” He chuckles. “We’ve gotta get you laid.”

Thank God Theo steps in, because all I can picture is his sister, naked and withering beneath me.

“What time are we meeting?” Theo asks, pulling off his practice jersey.

“Seven,” Emory states.

“See you guys then. I gotta go and wish my girl good luck.” Theo throws up his fist, and we give him knucks before breaking apart to go our separate ways.

I turn around to put the rest of my gear away but stop when I eye my jersey hanging in my locker. After making sure Emory is gone, I pull my phone out of my pants, and I quickly text Taytum.

Me: Don’t worry, Heartbreaker. I’ll wear the most expensive thing I own.

“What the hell are you wearing?” Theo asks.

Emory is laughing from beside Theo, and I can’t help but crack a smile.

I look down to my hockey uniform. “Oh, this old thing?”

Theo looks at me disapprovingly. “Are you ever serious?”

I can be…in certain situations. But this? It’s not one of them. Taytum needs a laugh. I know it because I know her. She’s nervous and cagey, just like she always is before a show, and the fact that her parents aren’t here because they’re trying to save money isn’t helping.

“Listen, I’m here for comedic relief. Take it or leave it.”

Theo sighs and turns to walk into the auditorium. Emory is still chuckling from beside me, and the moment we sit in our seats, I feel a buzz from my phone.

Taytum: Are you kidding me?

Emory is engaged in a conversation with Theo, so I quickly type a text back.

Me: No. And stop texting me while I’m sitting a seat away from your brother, if you’re still holding out on telling him.

I wait impatiently for her to text back while the other seats begin to fill up. My leg bounces up and down as each minute passes without a message, and when the stage lights blink twice, signaling that the show is going to start soon, I stand up.

“What are you doing?” Emory asks.

“Takin’ a piss,” I announce. “Wanna hold my dick?”

An older woman gives me a dirty look, but I ignore her as I shimmy past. Theo shakes his head, and I turn a blind eye to his silent disapproval and walk up the aisle, garnering looks from random people in the audience at my choice of attire.

I pass by the bathroom and eye the door that leads backstage. Since the show is about to start, no one notices me as I slip inside and head down the dark hallway where dancers are running about.

I spot her at the very end of the hall in her black leotard and wispy skirt that barely covers one of my favorite parts of her body. Her neck lengthens when she raises to her tiptoes to look at something on the stage, and all I want to do is reach up and undo her ballerina bun so her golden locks bounce along her back.

“You don’t like my outfit?” I ask, startling her.

She falls to her flat feet and spins with wide eyes. “Ford! What are you doing back here?”

I shrug. “You stopped texting me.”

Her sweet gasp makes my mouth water. “I’m a little busy!”

I can’t help but grin at her stressed state. Taytum never shows when she’s frazzled or nervous, except with me. “I just wanted to tell you good luck.”

A rustle of tulle and quiet feet catch my attention, and I step back to put space between us. A cluster of ballerinas rush past, all looking at me briefly before Taytum squeezes every one of their hands and tells them good luck.

Once they’re past the threshold of the door and on stage waiting for the lights to shine upon them, she peeks at me and checks me out from head to toe.

“I can’t believe you wore your hockey jersey.” Her arms cross over her tight leo, and I can’t help but watch her lungs expand beneath the material.

“You said to wear something nice. This is the nicest thing I own.”

Her mouth twitches, and I poke her in the side. She laughs and swats my hand away. “You’re stupid.”

“I made you smile, though,” I point out.

Her cheeks are rosy, and I have never felt the way I do when I see her smile. Something comforting settles in my stomach, and my hands beg to pull her in close because it feels wrong not to.

“Go sit down. You’re distracting me.” She brushes me away, but I grab onto her hand quickly, and she flies into my chest.

I catch the yelp on her mouth with a quick kiss before backing off so no one sees—though I want the entire world to see.

“Break a leg, Heartbreaker.” I wink and start to walk away but stop at the last second. I spin and see her staring at me. “Do I need to check?”

She acts confused, but I know she knows what I’m referring to. “Check what?”

“I’ll peel that flimsy tutu off your body right now and check to see if you’ve had a recent injection, Tay.”

She bristles at my tone. “Do you think I want to pass out on stage in front of everyone? I checked my sugar, and it’s fine.”

I exhale. Good girl.

There’s no point in checking her levels because they’ve fluctuated so much lately.

“Now go! I have things to do.”

I laugh under my breath. “I do too…but unfortunately, she’s busy.”

The music starts to fade as I walk down the empty hall, but before I get too far, I hear, “Pst, Ford!”

I pause, spin, and look at Claire like she has ten heads. “Um, aren’t you supposed to be on stage?” I ask.

She quickly shakes her head, and the shimmer on her cheeks catches the light when she steps forward. Her hand lands on my arm, and she pulls me around the corner. “I go on in ten, so we have to be quick.”

“Quick?”

“We need to talk about Taytum,” she says.

“Ah.” I nod. “You think we should tell Em too.”

Claire eyes my outfit. “Why are you wearing your hockey uniform?” She shakes her head. “Never mind, not important. And no, I don’t think it’s a good idea to tell Emory. He’ll go ballistic if he knows her sugar is high. He’ll probably storm on stage in the middle of the show.”

I snap backward. “Wait, what?” I pull out my phone to go through her levels again.

“I watched her check her sugar before the show started. I saw the number, and yet…” We both turn to her name being called. “She looked worried. I confronted her, and she assured me that she was fine. Is she?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose and shut my eyes. “She will be.” But she better have used her insulin.

“I gotta go,” she mutters.

I catch her eye before she rushes off. “Meet me in the dorms after the show. We need to talk.”

She nods quickly.

“Don’t worry,” I assure her.

Claire’s smile hardly reaches her eyes before she’s scurrying off to leap onto the stage.

If there’s anyone that can help prepare me for meeting up with a long-lost parent, it’s Claire. And if there’s anyone who can give me a fucking heart attack, it’s Taytum.