Broken Boy (The Puck Boys of Brooks University, #2)

by Hannah Gray

“Nothing that’s worthwhile is ever going to come easy,” she whispers. “But that doesn’t mean you give up. It means you fight harder. You have patience. You show unconditional love.” Her hand cups my cheek. “You’ve loved her since the day she arrived here. So, when the anger and spite start to take over everything else, remember that.”

“I don’t want to leave you, my sweet boy. But I’m going to die, Link. And you’re going to need her.”

And then there is me. I am the quiet one. The one who takes life way too seriously and lives solely for hockey. Hockey has been good to me, so it deserves my full attention. It was there for me as a kid, when my mother got sick the first time, when my best friend left me, and when my mother died. Proving itself the only true love of my life. That isn’t changing anytime soon.

“I want you to bother me,” he whispered, his gruff voice tortured. “Bother me all the fucking time, Tate.”

“Because I can’t stand the thought of not seeing you every day. It makes my stomach hurt. I love you, Tate. I’ve loved you since the day I saw you get out of your daddy’s truck behind that moving van. With your overalls and Converse. And those scrawny chicken legs.”

“I know your rule. I know you don’t want to be like your mama. But I’m not your dad, and I’m tired of loving you, but not being able to show it, Tate. I want to love you in the open. I can’t take another day of having you close and pretending that I’m not dying to fucking touch you.”

“Don’t go to Boston, T. Come to Brooks. Or let me go with you. I can make you so fucking happy. You’ll see. You just have to let me show you.”

Her shoulder-length brown hair is curled today, falling perfectly around her angelic face, which disguises that she’s actually the devil. And the flower-patterned dress she’s wearing is cut just low enough to show off a tease of cleavage, making me curse this Oliver fucker for sitting across from her. Even though I hate her … she still takes my breath away.

Bad is remembering the way it felt when she discarded me. Shitty is missing her every day and craving her like a drug. But having her share a campus, a fucking house with me? All while I put an act on that she’s dead to me? Well, it’s unbearable. And truthfully, I don’t know how much longer I can do it before I lose my mind.

When I had gone over there, drunk, and confessed my love to her, I had known I was changing our dynamic. Sure, we’d both felt that pull the universe refused to let us dodge. I’d held her in my arms at night and probably hugged her too long sometimes. Looked at her in her bikini more than I should have. Kept most guys away from her simply because they knew she was mine even if she technically wasn’t. But when she told me to be her first, a voice in my head was screaming she wasn’t ready for that. It told me that if I did this, we’d never come back from it. Selfishly, I did it anyway. How the fuck was I supposed to tell her no? It was all I’d thought about for years. And I guess a part of me knew that even if she ran from me … I’d always be her first. In some weird, fucked up way, I’d felt like that would make her mine. For life.

Even in my rage, red hot as it is, I crave to reach out and hold her when she cries. On one hand, it’s hell to not be able to comfort the one person I want to, but on the other, I’m so angry that I want to be the one to cause her pain. I’m going insane. An absolute, utter fucking mess.

“Whatever. How the fuck do you figure Tate is damaged?”

“Her eyes,” he says thoughtfully. “It’s always the eyes.”

I told Tate hockey was all that mattered. It’s all that matters because it’s all I have. My mother is gone. My dad checked out when she took her last breath. And the only girl I’ve ever loved, besides my mother, doesn’t want me. This really is it. And I’m not failing at it.

She tries not to smile but fails. And that look—that one tiny look where I see her as nothing other than an angel—has my breath hitching. I’d do anything to not react the way that I do. But she’s Tate Tracy. She’ll always be mine, even when she isn’t.

Whatever god made her must have taken his damn time. There’s no way on earth that an angel like that was made in a day.

When her eyes find mine, I look away. Eyes that have always seemed to be searching for something, anything, when she looks at me. I had to look away because when she looks at me like that, I’d give her anything, except she doesn’t want that. She doesn’t want me.

“No. Because the truth is … there’s eighty-six thousand four hundred seconds in a day … and since we were kids, there has never been one of them when you weren’t the only thing that mattered,”

“I’ve been with a lot of women since that night, Tate. And when I squeeze my eyes shut as I bury myself inside of them … all I see is you.” I glide my hands to her ass, lifting her up onto the desk. “I always close my eyes.”

“You ruined me for anyone else. And all I dream about is ruining you back. Fucking you so hard that nobody would ever want you again and making you come so good that all you’ll ever think about is me fucking you.” My cock grows, pushing against her dress as her lips part. “You’re all I think about already,” she whimpers. “You already ruined me.”

“No man will ever satisfy you. Not the way I have.” Bringing her lips to mine, I kiss her hard, leaving her breathless. “It’ll be a long, lonely life. But you chose this. Remember that.”

Because as long as we’re living together, I’ll make sure from this point on to remind her that I’ll always be there, in her brain. Making it impossible for her to ever move on. Or to feel normal. Because if I can’t, why should she?

I want to be etched into every crevice of her brain. But I know that with every touch, kiss, and moan … she’s imprinted right there in mine too. There’s no outrunning her. She’s always there.

“Good girl, sucking my cock like it’s your fucking job,” he hisses. “Remember how turned on you are right now, Tate. Remember being this excited to have my dick down your throat because I promise, you won’t be for another man.” He pulls my hair back further. “Those lips were made for sucking my cock and my cock only.”

And then there was the kicker that I was the only man who’d touched her, which put me right over the edge … in the best way. I feel a possession over her that I know isn’t healthy or right. But she’s mine. She’s always been mine.

I look at her. So beautiful and broken.

“You’ve never needed me to rescue you. And I guess, in some ways … I’ve always resented that. Because all I’ve ever wanted to do was be the person you relied on most. And you’ve never needed me.” My thumb continues to graze her cheek. “Stop thinking of yourself as this frail creature. You’re a fucking force.”

I could have had any girl I wanted, but from the time I was twelve years old, I only belonged to her.

She’s always been someone who deals with her shit alone. Never wanting to burden anyone else. I want the burden. Even if it’s so heavy that it breaks me. I’d gladly carry it if it meant I could save her from having to.

Because for the first time in as long as I can remember … I feel like I’m home.

A part of me is so thankful to have my friend back. The other knows that he’s given up on the idea of us. But that’s what I wanted, right? That’s why I pushed him away? So, why does it feel like I’m having a heart attack right now? And why does he seem perfectly fine?

This morning, I told Tate we could be friends, like old times. I pretended like that was what I wanted, and it sucked ass to make it seem like I was actually okay with it. The last thing I want to do is be her friend. I want to strip her naked and taste every inch of her body. I want to thrust inside of her while she moans my name, scraping her nails into my skin. I want to bury my face between her thighs, letting her ride my tongue like a mechanical bull. I want to fuck the emptiness right from her eyes, making her feel everything all at once. And I want to take her to breakfast, hand in hand. Kissing her across the booth.

But I can’t just dispose of her the same way she did me. She means too much to me, and it was too fucking hard to treat her like shit before. So, if we have to be friends to make it through the remainder of the year together, I guess that’s a price I’m willing to pay if it keeps her close and keeps her safe.

One day, I could find someone else. I could get married, maybe even have kids. But it’ll never be like this. I’ll never love anyone this fiercely. And that really fucking sucks.

But the thing that separates Tate from my other best friends is … the dirty thoughts constantly running through my brain, involving her.

The trouble is, I’m mostly excited to pretend he’s my boyfriend. Because for a few hours … that means I’ll get to feel like he’s mine.

No other woman could ever put me at ease one minute while making me squirm the next the way Tate does. She’s my greatest comfort while also making me insane.

Even while we’re dancing, not saying a word, it’s like her soul travels into mine. I’ve never felt so close to another human being in my entire life, and I doubt I ever will.

She’s given me all of her firsts, and that’s the best gift she could have given me. But I don’t just want her firsts. I want her lasts too.

It doesn’t feel like we’re faking anything. Nor does it seem like we’re waiting for something to end. It’s like we’re finally getting what we’ve both wanted for so long. And that feels pretty damn good.

“I’ll love you from afar, if that’s what you need me to do. But that isn’t what I want, T.” I tangle my lips with hers, swallowing her moans. “I want you. I want you next to me through it all. My dreams coming true. The bad times. All of it. And I want to be there for you too.”

“I can’t fix you, Tate. And I don’t want to. But I can love you just the way you are. If you’ll let me?”

I know she didn’t give me an answer if she’d let me love her, but that’s okay. For now anyway.

“Wait,” I said, holding my hand up. “What about your good luck? Don’t you need this?” Giving me the smallest smile, she shrugged. “I think I might have just found mine.”

And I thought that the hardest day had just gotten a lot better. And I knew right then, she was mine. My four-leaf clover.

She laughs softly. “T, we both know that rule has never applied to Link.” She links her arm with mine. “He’s one man who isn’t and will never be our dad.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “Guys don’t love girls that much in real life. Link Sterns looks at you like you’re the damn sun and he’s been in the dark his whole life.” She puts her head to mine as we take the last few steps. “I say, go for it. Because if you don’t, I promise, you’ll never find that again.” Link’s face flashes in my mind, smiling at me, making it all better. “Yeah, I know.”

This world continues to push us together, only to pull us apart. And at some point, I just have to let her go. And I think this is that point.

I’m not letting him get away that easily. I might be scared of a future with an NHL player, but I’m more scared of a future without Link.

“It’ll break me—that’s what. Every time with you leaves me wanting more, Tate. It will never be just one last time. But it has to be. This time, it has to be over,”

I cry out, throwing my head back as we come together for what I refuse to believe could really be the last time. It can’t be.