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

The moment Taytum is out of my sight is the very moment I become sober. I’d down more of my whiskey if I had any left, but the flask in my back pocket is empty, and unfortunately, the sloppy kissing isn’t nearly enough to make me feel drunk either.

Damn it. 

I pull away from the kiss and crook a smile at Wanda…or Wilma? Willow. Her name is Willow. “I’ll be right back.”

I’ll be surprised if she’s in the same spot I leave her in, since I’ve been back and forth all night, but if I don’t make contact with Taytum and confirm that she’s okay, I won’t be able to pay much attention to Willow anyway.

I scan each and every face as I make my way through the party, subtly looking for her throughout the sea of blonde females. Once I reach the stairs, I place my hands on my hips in defeat and stare up at the steps leading to the upper landing. My chest is tight with anxiety, and guilt is knocking on my back door.

Leave her be. 

I shake my head and let out a low grumble before backing up into someone.

“My bad, bro,” I say, taking in the sight of a guy who looks less than pleased that I’ve run into him. He has a little bit of dried blood underneath his nose, and I immediately search the party to see who decided to take part in a fight.

Rush doesn’t allow much conflict in the football house. Everyone knows that. So either this guy got one past Rush, or Rush hasn’t found out yet.

“You got a little…” I point to my nose, and his bloody nostrils flare. I laugh under my breath when I look past the guy and see that Rush is right behind him. “You might want to brace yourself for another hit.”

His eyebrows dig down into a crevice, and I take a step back when Rush’s hand makes contact with the Rocky Balboa wannabe. “What the fuck are you doing here, Jasper?”

I grab the beer out of Berkley’s hand when he saunters up beside me. All we need is some popcorn, and we’d be set.Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

Rush bundles Jasper’s shirt in his tight fist. “I thought I told you to stay the fuck away from my house.”

Jasper appears to be humored by our BU football captain’s temper, and it’s obvious that he’s only here to piss Rush off.

“Who’d you fuck with this time?” Rush asks, pulling on Jasper’s shirt again. He’s wearing a Wilder U shirt, and I assume there’s a little rival going on between the two. “Looks like she did a number on you.”

A girl hit him?

I turn my head and peer up the stairs before turning back and staring at Jasper’s bloody nose. My shoulders tighten, the beer can in my hand crumpling slightly with my assumption.

“The goalie’s sister. Thought I’d pick a fight with another athlete for a change.”

My beer can falls to the floor, and I step forward. My chest screams a lethal dose of violence, and even though I’m like Rush in the sense that it takes a lot to get under my skin, Taytum is my number one trigger.

A hand grips my shoulder, and I crack my neck.

Rush moves in front of me and shoves Jasper toward the door. “If I see you again, I’ll make a conscious decision to do more than give you a bloody nose. You got it?”

Jasper laughs. “See you on the field, big guy.”

Not so fast. 

I slide past Rush and storm the guy. My forearm is against his windpipe, and his sick smile feeds my hunger like I have a craving for pain.

Someone pulls me back and shoves me inside the front door before slamming it shut. “Do you know who he is?”

I scoff. “Dead meat?”

Rush shakes his head. “His father is the dean for Wilder U, and he has strings. Don’t fuck with him. Trust me.”

I know there is probably more to the story, but I don’t care to ask questions. I sigh and shake out my tense muscles. Rush stalks off, and I turn around to see Berkley and Efrain smiling like clowns at me.

“What?” I snap.

An underclassman from nearby snorts. “Same ol’ shit. Taytum is trying to get railed, and Ford has to step in and save her.”

There’s a reddish tint clouding my vision when I take a step to the left and eye the pipsqueak who thinks I won’t actually drop him to his ass in three seconds flat.

“Come here and try saying that to my face.”

“Ford, relax.” Berkley gets in between us, and I know I’m acting completely out of character.

“It’s the truth, though.” I ignore the girly voice coming from the puck bunny who adds her two cents that no one asked for.

The underclassman opens his mouth, likely to add more to his death wish. “I mean, come on, man. If you’re not going to make a move, let someone else have her. No hard feelings, but Taytum is…”

I block out the rest of his sentence because I know what’s good for me.

The crowd parts as I storm through the house. If Taytum isn’t in the middle of this debacle, it’s because she’s off hiding somewhere.

I skip every other step as I jog up the stairs and open each bedroom door. I see two pairs of tits in the first room, a dick in the third, and the stench of sex hits me in the face in the last.

The media room is empty, and after sweet-talking a few girls, I’m first in line for the bathroom, only to be let down when Taytum doesn’t open the door to step out into the hallway.

Damnit!

I make it to the athletic dorms on foot in record time and knock on room 213 while ignoring the scrunchie hanging on the doorknob, indicating what’s happening on the other side. I snatch the blue fuzzy hair contraption and fling it right at Theo’s face when he appears with Claire.

“What?” he snaps before bending down and snatching the hair tie off the floor. Claire’s hair is messy, and she’s wearing his shirt, but I choose to ignore the scene I’ve walked into and ask where Taytum is.

“Last I knew, she was at the party.” Claire reaches for her phone, and I wait anxiously. She tucks her hair behind her ear and quickly types something.

“Well,” I press. “Where is she?”

Theo holds the door open and looks between us impatiently.

She shakes her head and pads over on bare feet to show me the picture on the screen. I pinch the bridge of my nose at the sight of Taytum’s bright-red knuckles and blue bruise forming.

“She said she thinks it’s broken. What the hell did she do?”

“Did she finally punch you?” Theo looks at my face a little more intently, but I catch his smirk.

“You’re not funny,” I say, although it wouldn’t be that farfetched. “And no, she didn’t punch me.” Frustration starts to fill me. “I leave her be for one fucking night, and she punches some guy and possibly breaks her hand.”

The tiniest slip of a laugh leaves Taytum’s best friend, and she puts her hand over her mouth to hide it. Theo chuckles, and I flip them both off before storming down the hallway. I open my phone and type aggressively.

I thought I taught you how to throw a punch.

She doesn’t text back, which is really no surprise.