“Probably.”
“Fuck.”
“Yep,” I mutter. I’m not surprised. It’s not the first time, and it probably won’t be the last. It’s just the way it goes for me.
“What the hell happened?” he asks, but thankfully, he finally puts the vehicle into drive.
“Some loser was giving a girl a hard time for spilling a drink on his shirt. I intercepted, and was actually trying to diffusethe situation, but then he smacked her ass.” Declan flinches. “So, all logic went out the window. Naturally.”
“Naturally,” he murmurs.
I leave out the part where the girl was the one he brought home that one night, a couple of years ago. The redhead hedidn’t sleep with. The one he left in his bed because he was all messed up about Sweets. That doesn’t seem important right now.
“You’re going to say I was in the wrong?”
Declan shakes his head curtly. “No, but you’re not just some guy, Fork. People are going to try to provoke you to get this exact reaction. Is it worth risking your career?”
On one hand, yes. You touch a woman like that? You deserve it, and I don’t mind dishing out the punishments and dealing with the repercussions. But Idolove my job. I don't want to lose it. I’ve been told to rein in my temper more times in my life than I’ve been greeted hello, but I don’t know how to stop it when that other part of me takes over.
“I don’t like assholes who think they can touch women like that.”
That’s the truth. I was raised to respect women—by my mom, more specifically. I was raised knowing that women run this fucking world, and society has somehow convinced us it’s the other way around. Hilarious, really. Only men would be stupid enough to believe we’d survive a day without them. The women know how it would go. Ask any who have had to find a bottle of ketchup in the fridge because their partner has looked ten times and can’t see it right in front of their face.
Men are stupid. Prideful as all hell, clearly, but insecure as fuck over the fact that this planet would not stand a chance without the female population.
Nobody treats women like shit in front of me and walks away smiling. If I had it my way, the sentences Ihand out to these men would be much, much worse.
And legal, preferably.
“Me neither, but that wasn’t my question.”
“Well, your question was dumb.”
Declan’s lips pull upward at that. Those little holes in his face poke out through his stubble.
“There were four hundred ways that you could have given that guy a taste of his own medicine without beating his face in, Fork.”
None that would sink in as quickly or as deeply, though. None that would feel quite as good, either. He knows that, even if the golden boy only swings in the most dire of situations.
“It happened. Can’t turn back time.”
He lets out one of those long, deep breaths through his nose that tells me I’m testing his patience. Professional talent of mine, to be honest.
“I don’t want to skate with anyone else, buddy. Don’t make me.”
Something gross and painful slams right into my chest with those words. They hit their mark, which he knew they would, because he’s Lowesy and he’s my right-hand man. I’d rather die than skate with anyone else, too.
I run my hand over my jaw, glancing over at him again. He doesn’t look at me, and I’m mighty grateful for that. I think if he did, this uncomfortable feeling would get a little worse than I’d like it to, and I’m already trying to push away the shitty feeling that comes with getting thrown in the slammer.
We have it good in Pittsburgh. We’ve worked our asses off, apart and together. We’ve created one of the strongest teams in the league side by side, and our brotherhood is one of the most important relationships I have in my life. Besides my sister, Ariana, Lowesy is my top priority. Always has been. He’s the guy I’d call in any emergency and he’d be calling me just the same.
Case in point, him picking me up from the clink.
I don’t want to leave him, either. I have no intention ofdoing so. Skating for any other team seems like a nightmare I never want to live through. I’veneverskated on another professional team. It’s been Pittsburgh for me since day one. I was drafted, pulled that jersey over my head, and never took it off.
What would be worse?
Not skating at all.
