“I’m so glad you decided to come.” She reaches out and skims my forearm. “Hey.” I jam my hands back in my pockets so I don’t touch her like I want to.

Her lips curve in a smile that looks more devious than welcoming. I know what it feels like between my fingers and on my chest. I don’t think there’s anything on underneath it. The click of the lock turning twists the knot of my anxiety tighter.

My fist doesn’t feel like it’s attached to my body as I lift it to knock on the door.

When I get there, I shove my hands in my pockets and wait for the memories to fade. My feet feel like they’re made of lead as I walk down the hall to Tash’s room. The way it used to when I didn’t perform the way I should’ve and my mum expressed her disappointment.īut I deserved it. My palms are sweaty, and my stomach starts to roll the way it used to after a game when I was young. I don’t know how to say no to her, even though she’s bad for me. When the elevator doors open at the twenty-third floor, I almost don’t get off. I try not to think about how things went down the last time I saw Tash. I let the numbness set in as I cross the parking lot and enter the hotel, heading for the elevators. I open the door and step out into the unseasonably warm night. It’s understandable, but it means I don’t have any wingmen to stop me from doing this. Besides, Miller’s girlfriend is expecting a baby soon, so he’s not interested in being anywhere she’s not. They’re both in committed relationships, so a call at nine at night for an impromptu trip to the bar isn’t an option. I might’ve been able to ignore the last one if my teammates and closest friends, Randy Ballistic and Miller Butterson, weren’t nailed down by their balls. So I’m sitting here staring at the last two messages-the one containing her room number, and the one from an hour ago telling me she’s getting impatient and won’t wait much longer for a response. I scroll past the first nine to the ones that brought me here, to this place I shouldn’t be:Īround and around it goes. Tash, my ex-or whatever the fuck she is to me-is in town. I check my phone and scroll through the messages that began to accumulate late last night. Or that the process is going to cure my guilt and alleviate my need to atone. I come back to the people who hurt me, and I let them do it over and over again, always hoping maybe one day the end result is going to be different. The whole breaking-the-cycle thing is hard to do. Because even though I know better, I can’t help myself. Instead, I shift into park and cut the engine. I grip the steering wheel and take a few deep breaths, willing myself to put my Hummer in reverse. A PUCKED SERIES STANDALONE COMING FEBRUCHAPTER 1

Pucked helena