Page 37 of Puck Off, She’s Mine

Which means he knows about the fight. Which means he probably knows the reason for the fight. Which means…

My hands shake as I hurry to my car, trying to get the fuck out of dodge before I have to meet him. I cannot meet his dad right now! Or ever, actually. He'll hate me on sight. And then Phoenix will hate me.

"Crap," I whisper, collapsing behind the steering wheel as my anxiety level skyrockets. Rationally, I know the fight wasn't my fault. I never gave Corey any reason to think I was into him. I never gave him permission to touch me. I repeatedly made it clear that I would never date him. But they got into a fight over me anyway. A fight that wouldn't have happened if I weren't around.

How pissed is Jonas right now? Phoenix has probably never gotten into a fight with one of his own teammates before. I doubt he's ever been benched before. The man takes hockey seriously, just trying to live up to his dad's career.

And now, because of me, he's not only punched one of his teammates, but he's been benched. Not all the rumors flying are the ones he made up. There are plenty of whispers about why he and Corey are riding the bench. Luckily, no one who knows what happened is willing to spill the beans on that one.

I'm guessing his dad knows, though. And he's probably furious about it.

My phone buzzes, startling me.

I pull it from my pocket, whimpering when I see Phoenix's name across the display.

Where'd you go, gorgeous? I have a surprise for you.

Yes, a surprise shaped like his gorgeous behemoth of a father.

Me: I'm heading home for the day.

I immediately toss my phone into the console and start the car, buckling in before I peel out of my spot like the hounds of hell are chasing me. I don't think I breathe until I'm on the road, my car pointed toward home.

I'm not entirely surprised when my phone rings as I'm pulling into my driveway. I glance at the screen, groaning when I see Phoenix's name flashing across it.

I park, take a deep breath, and then answer.

"Hey," I say, holding it between my cheek and shoulder while grabbing my stuff to head inside.

"What's wrong?" he growls immediately, his voice tense.

"Nothing. Just got home."

"Liar. What's wrong?"

"Why do you think something is wrong?"

"Because I know you, and I know you hate running, but you ran out of the arena like your ass was on fire."

"Did not," I mumble.

"Yeah, you did. You going to tell me why?"

"Maybe I had to use the bathroom, did you ever think of that?" I huff, shoving my key into the lock on the front door.

"You had to shit?" he asks, amusement lacing his voice.

"What? No. Gross."

A deep rumble of laughter whispers down the line. "All the filthy things I've done to you, and I bet you're blushing right now because I said shit, aren't you?"

"No, I'm not." Spoiler Alert: I definitely am.

"Liar. Why'd you run off?"

"I just wanted to come home."

"Why, Cara?"