As I roll onto my side, Bex hops down from the bed. She leaves without another word, and I close my eyes, wishing I would have taken the pain meds the doctor offered. Because I want to be numb.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Bex
An entire week has passed since I left Boston. Seven long days without a word from Preston. He hates me. Preston blames me for everything. And he should. Because the fight was my fault.
My dad is pissed about Preston’s suspension. He won’t say it aloud, but he knows I’m to blame. If I could turn back time, I would. I would have stayed the hell home like I was supposed to.
I knock on Preston’s front door and Jamie opens it.
He forces a smile, but it’s obvious he’s not happy to see me. “Preston is sleeping.”
It’s a lie. I can read it on his lips, see it in his eyes. Every time I’ve come to see Preston, he’s sleeping. Right.
“Can you relay a message for me?”
Leaning against the door frame, Jamie shoves his hand through his shaggy brown hair. “Yeah. What do you want me to tell him?”
The last time I was here, I spoke to Drake. The time before that Tucker. I still haven’t received a return call or text from Preston. He hasn’t been to class in a week. From what I can tell, he hasn’t left this house at all.
“Tell Preston I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have involved him in all of this. This is my fault, and now he’s paying for it.”
“Wait… what?” Jamie’s eyebrows rise in confusion. “What are you talking about? Why is this your fault?”
Surprised, I say, “He didn’t tell you?”
He crosses his arms over his thick chest. “Tell me what?”
“Oh.” I bite my bottom lip. “I assumed he told you since you two are like brothers. What did he tell his parents about the fight?”
“That he reacted without thinking. Lehane and Preston have never gotten along. They’ve always gone after each other on the ice. But never like this. So, you’re saying you had something to do with the fight.”
“Yes,” I whisper. “I wish I could take it all back.”
“Bex, spit it out. What’s going on? Preston won’t talk to me, and now you’re being all cryptic.”
“Sorry. I don’t mean to be.”
I can’t share my past with Jamie. It was hard enough to let Preston in. Even though he’s close to Preston, I’m not comfortable telling Jamie about what brought us to this point.
“Let Preston know I came by, would you? Ask him to call me. If he’s feeling up to it.”
“Sure.” He clutches the door, about to close it when he says, “Your dad probably told you already, but Preston is suspended for the rest of the season, which means his college career is over. He’s upset right now. I don’t know what I would do if it were me, but I do know he’s not taking it well. He worked his ass off his entire life to get here, and now it might have been for nothing.”
I wipe a fallen tear from my cheek. “I can’t even imagine what he’s going through.”
“He’s a hot head. He just needs time. Okay?”
“Thanks, Jamie.”
He flashes a closed-mouth smile and then shuts the door, leaving me on the porch in tears.
I run away from the house, shielding my face with my arm. I don’t want anyone to see me like this. I’m a mess.
When I finally stop, on the next street over, I bend over to catch my breath. The tears keep coming, coating my face, refusing to stop. My heart aches for Preston. I wish I could take away his pain, transfer all of it to me.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Preston
My life is over. I’ve fucked up everything. All because I broke my own rules. I lived by the idea that hockey and women don’t mix. My dad drilled it into my head from the time I hit puberty. The second I started looking at girls, he was all over me, up my ass to stay focused. Because he could see how easy it would be for me to go astray.
Jamie knocks on my bedroom door, even though it’s open. He strolls into my room like he owns the joint and plops down on the edge of my bed. The mattress dips beneath his weight.
“Bex was here. Again. When are you going to man up and talk to her?”
“I don’t want to deal with anyone.” I prop myself up on the stack of pillows behind me to get comfortable. “You’re lucky I’m talking to you.”
“Prez, I know this feels like the end of the world, but your hand will heal, and when it does you can still play hockey.”
“You don’t know if that’s true. The doctor said anything can happen. We won’t know for sure until I heal if I’ll have the same range of motion in my hand. And what pro team will want someone who was suspended by the NCAA for violently attacking another player? I have no fucking shot of ever making it pro now.”
“With your dad’s connections, I’m sure he can find you a team.”
“I don’t want to play for some farm league or in fucking Russia. This was the dream. You, me, the guys and the NHL.”
“You’re too good to get passed over. Something has to come from this.”
“You don’t know that,” I challenge, not meaning to be an asshole to Jamie. “Sorry. It’s not your fault. I’m so fucking mad I can’t even think straight. I keep replaying that night over and over in my head. I fucked up so bad that no number of apologies or money can fix what I did. I have to live with the decision I made for the rest of my life.”
“Bex said to tell you she’s sorry for getting you involved. What was she talking about?”
Pinching the bridge of my nose between my fingers, I sigh. “It’s not my story to tell. Sorry. I can’t go into it.”
“You fought Lehane because of Bex?”
I nod.
“You have to give me something, bro. C’mon.”
“I wish I could. Bex doesn’t want anyone to know.”
“Maybe I can help.”
“No one can. What Lehane did to deserve that beating won’t change my suspension.”
“Are you done with Bex?” He presses his palm to the mattress, shifting his weight. “She’s a good girl. You would be stupid to push her away.”
“Like you did with Shannon,” I retort.
He sighs. “Things with Shan are complicated.”
“So is my relationship with Bex. I need a break. From everything and everyone. I don’t want to talk about my suspension or my career. I just want to be left alone. She’s a reminder of what I lost. I don’t blame her, but I don’t want to see her right now. I need time to process.”
Jamie pushes himself up from the bed. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” He opens his mouth, hesitating with his next words. “Don’t shut everyone out, Prez. We all want to help you. It doesn’t have to be like this.”
“There’s nothing anyone can do for me.”
He lets out a breath of air, irritated. “Okay. You know where to find me if you want to talk or play Mage Wars. I beat level fifty-five last night. You should have seen this wizard I had to face. I called my dad after I beat it to curse him out for making the game so fucking hard.”
I laugh for the first time in what feels like weeks. “Did you have to answer another riddle? I hate those fucking questions.”
“Nah, this time I had to save up enough magic dust to break through an enchanted fortress. I must’ve died at least a hundred times before I figured out how to defeat the mages in each room.”
“What rooms?”
He sits back down, his face glowing. Jamie’s happiest when we talk about video games or computers. And, of course, hockey, too.
“After you defeat the giant that guards the enchanted fortress, you have to steal the magic from the mages in each room.”
He goes on and on about the game and elaborates in great detail about how he won each level.
I listen, without interrupting him. Sitting here with Jamie, shooting the shit, I know I messed up with Bex. Like Jamie, she’s one of the good things in my life. But at this moment, all I can see is the b
ad.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Bex
Sitting on the floor of my bedroom, I flip open my textbook. Taylor slides along the area rug until she’s next to me, book in hand.
“The assignment is on page two hundred and twelve,” I tell her.
“You know you can talk to me, Bex.” She pats my knee with her hand. “I know this is hard on you.”
“Right now, all I want to do is get through this exam and hopefully pass the class with a B.”
“You have an A.”
“I don’t know how long I’m going to keep it if I don’t get my shit together. I haven’t been focused over the last two weeks.”
“I hate Preston for what he did to you. But I kind of love him for defending your honor.”
“His intentions were sweet.” I peek up from the book, a few tears falling from my bottom lids. “I was happy to see Kellan get his ass kicked by Preston. It’s what happened afterward that’s the problem. Preston may never get into the NHL because of the fight. And I will have to live with the fact that it was all because of me. Because I dated an asshole who did horrible things to me.”
“This isn’t your fault, Bex. Don’t blame yourself. I’ve watched you do it for close to four years. You are the victim. Kellan did those things to you and without your permission.”
“I feel responsible, you know. Like, if I never told Preston about Kellan, then everything would be perfect right now. I told him I loved him, and he rejected me. He asked me to leave the hospital. He hasn’t returned any of the calls or texts I’ve sent over the last two weeks. His friends won’t tell me anything. My dad is in mourning over this. Everyone is treating me differently.”
“I’m not.” She cups my shoulder and pulls me into a hug. “Whatever you need, I will be here.”
My cell phone chimes, and Taylor picks it up. She gasps. “Oh, my God. It’s Preston.”
I jump into action and rip the phone from her hand. Clutching it between my fingers, I hold onto it for dear life, devouring every word.
Preston: Can we talk?
“That’s it?” I look at Taylor, deflated. “No sorry for being a dick. Just can we talk?”
She frowns. “Maybe he wants to tell you in person.”
“He could have called. Not texted. Two weeks of silence should be ended over the phone.”
Taylor shrugs. “You know how guys are.”
“Unfortunately, I do.”
“So, what are you gonna do?”
I stare at his message. Why am I so disappointed? Did I think he would say more? But I deserve more. After two weeks of ignoring me, he could have made a grand gesture, at least attempted to make things right.
“No.” I drop the phone to the floor and push it away from me. “He made me wait. Why should I run back to him with open arms? If he wants to talk, he knows where to find me.”
She laughs. “There’s the old Bex Bryant I know and love. You’ve gone soft since you got together with Preston. I’m happy to see you’ve returned.”
The library is so quiet I can hear myself breathe. Late at night, no one is ever around. I prefer it this way. Even the librarians seem to disappear into the dark recesses of the building.
It’s creepy silent, so I pull out my earbud headphones. Angry punk rock music fills my ears. With each second that passes, I become more relaxed, more focused. I lift my cell phone from the table to switch over to another playlist. And when I do, another text comes in from Preston.
I ignore it, same as I have done for the past three days. He hasn’t earned an immediate response. Not after he kept me waiting. I think of his hockey T-shirt, the one I stained with mascara from crying so much on it. I clung to his shirt, all because it smelled like him. Because no matter what he said, or how he acted, I still love him.
I hate how pathetic I am because of Preston. By shedding tears for him, I allowed him to have power over me. Not anymore. I call the shots in my life. It will not be dictated by a man ever again.
Dismissing his message, I return back to my music library to choose a new playlist. This time, I go with something more upbeat. But still angry. Joan Jett’s voice penetrates my ears, the sound a welcome relief. I turn the page in my textbook, my eyes pointing down at it.
My thoughts drift to Preston for a second, instead of my book, and I curse him for it. He was always a distraction. Even without him in my life, he still gets under my skin. Because he’s a part of me. He’s the love of my life.
I try to be strong—because that’s how I was raised. My father was never emotional and had no clue how to raise a girl after my mother left. His response to everything was to slap a Band-Aid over it and get back on the court or the ice. But no number of bandages can close the wound left open by Preston.
Another text pops up on my phone. I stare it and sigh, pushing the phone away with my fingers. What’s with all the text messages? He could have called or showed up at my dorm room. I’m holding out until he decides to man up and apologize the right way.
By the time I finish my reading assignment, I receive another text. This time I read it.
Preston: I can see you ignoring my texts.
I roll my eyes at the phone and consider responding. Nope, not gonna happen.
Another text comes in.
Preston: I can literally see you rolling your eyes at me.
I huff, now glancing around the vacant loft that occupies the top floor of the library. No one is up here with me. He’s just messing with me. Or so I think.
Preston steps out from the row to my left. He looks gorgeous in a pair of tight jeans and a fitted dark tee that stretches over his muscles, framing his thick chest. He shoves his hand through his hair to push it off his forehead, looking like a GQ model.
My stomach clenches, my nipples hardening from his simple gesture. No matter how much I want to hate him, I can’t ignore the feeling I get when I’m around him. He’s always had this effect on me.
Pretending as if I don’t care, I lean back in my chair and cross my arms over my chest. “What do you want?”
“Don’t be like this, Bex.” He approaches the table and stands there, towering over me. “I’m sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am. I know there are no words that can make up for what I did to you, but I have never been sorrier in my life.” He drops to one knee next to my chair and tugs at my hand.
I allow him to take it, and he weaves his fingers between mine. Electricity pricks my skin. Tiny bumps travel up my arms. He glances down at my hand, and then brings it to his mouth to plant a kiss on my skin. It’s soft and sensual, more delicate than he’s ever been.
“I love you, Bex. I’ve known that I love you for a while now. I should have said it back to you at the hospital. I never should have pushed you away. My biggest regret isn’t fighting Lehane or getting suspended by the NCAA. It’s losing you.”
Tears fall from my eyes, and he wipes them away with the back of his other hand. We stare at each other. Preston waits for me to respond, and I wonder what to say. But I have no idea what to do.
Because I love him.
I’ve missed him.
I want him.
I need him.
“Say something, Bex.” His voice is deep and modulated, so smooth it soothes me.
“I’m still mad at you. How do you expect me to trust you when you walked away as soon as times got tough? I’m afraid you’ll do it again.”
“I won’t.” He massages my hand with his long fingers, and it feels so damn good. “I promise to never shut you out again. I want you to be part of every aspect of my life. The good. The bad. The in-between. I want you to be there for all of it. And I want to be there for you. I really do love you, Bex. So fucking much it hurts. I feel like someone’s digging a knife into my chest when I’m not with you. I haven’t been able to sleep. I can’t eat. At first, I thought it was because of hockey, but I now know it’s because of you.”
“You’ve made the last few weeks of my life miserable, Preston.” I
try to hold his gaze but have to look away. He blots more of my tears with his thumb, forcing me to look at him again. “I don’t know what to say or what to do. I’ve been through a lot over the years. I can’t take anymore.”
“I know, and I’m here for you.”
“I’ve lost my mother.” I continue, “Was humiliated my last year of high school and part of college. I still have to live in shame over those pictures on the Internet. I can’t even have a social media account because I’m so afraid someone will make the connection. It’s like I have to hide from everyone. I never had to with you. But then you pushed me away. It was like you were ashamed of me. Like you couldn’t stand to look at me because of what Kellan said to you.”
“Never,” he whispers. “I could never be ashamed of you. I kept my distance because I’m an asshole. I needed time to grieve the loss of my career, without realizing what I was doing to you in the process. I took you for granted, thinking you would be there when I was ready. I’m sorry, Bex.”
I cup his cheek with my hand and sigh. He kisses my fingers first, covering each of them with his mouth. I suck in a deep breath, hoping to find my willpower. Which seems to have disappeared on me. Because I can’t fight him. He’s too intoxicating, too hard to resist.
Preston must see the desire in my eyes because he slides his arm behind my back, and he lifts me up from the chair. His eyes burn through me, his hands leaving a harsh burn in their wake. My entire body comes alive from his touch. He knows it. Preston was probably banking on my physical reaction to him.
“I love you, Bex,” he whispers against my mouth. “Please forgive me.”
“I love you, too,” I whisper, and then his lips are on mine, his tongue invading my mouth.
Without breaking the kiss, he lifts me up and lowers me onto the table, making room for himself between my legs. He explores my thighs with his big hands and slowly makes his way to the hem of my shirt. His hand dips beneath it, and I whimper when he cups my breast over my bra.
Pucking Parker (Face-Off Legacy Book 1) Page 16