Page 27 of Pucking Good Girl

Tucker takes Taryn’s hand. “I could stay with my girl. Colsen and Nash are gonna move into these new apartments, but I can’t stay with them since it’s still on campus housing. So I can call dibs on sleeping in my girl’s bed every night. If this isn’t a fucking silver lining, I don’t know what is.”

“I’m afraid not, son,” Coach Harrison says, approaching us. “Miss Beats has a room on campus as part of her employment benefits. The Dean was clear about it. If you defy him, you aren’t only putting yourself at risk. You’re putting my job and your girlfriend’s job on the line.”

“Fuuuck.” My brother covers his face with his hands. “Does anyone have a motherfucking time machine so I can go back to the afternoon and not change the water in that tub? This shitshow is my reward for the one time I decide not to procrastinate.”

Macklin clasp him on the shoulder. “My offer still stands. You can room with Becks. I’m sure he won’t mind. He might actually even prefer living with you rather than having to live with his big brother.”

But Tucker doesn’t budge. Us Prescotts are as stubborn as humanly possible. “I appreciate it, bro. For real. But I don’t take handouts. Even from one of my best friends. It would keep me up at night and mess with my fucking head. I’d sooner live in my truck than have a friend pay for my housing.”

On the one hand, that sounds stupid. But there’s a part of me that understands. I would feel exactly the same way if I found myself in Tucker’s situation.

“Son,” Coach Harrison clears his throat. “For the love of God, don’t sleep in your truck. And if you do, don’t park it on campus, or the Dean will consider it on campus housing.” He deadpans.

Tucker bursts out laughing. We all do.

“What do you know, Coach? If the Dean fires you, you have a future in stand up comedy.”

Coach Harrison’s usual scowl disappears for a second. “Yeah, yeah. It must be hanging out with a bunch of candy ass clowns day in and day out. You idiots are rubbing off on me. But seriously, I would offer you to crash in my guest room or at least on my couch, but my wife decided to do extensive house renovations and right now I live in a fucking building site.”

“I appreciate it, Coach,” Tucker sighs. “But don’t worry. I have one last option before the truck.”

I know what it is even before he says it.

“All my parents can offer me is a couch to crash on and it’s a pain in the ass to drive to campus if I hit rush hour, but beggars can’t be choosers, am I right?”

“Dude, if sleeping on the couch made you feel better,” Macklin offers. “You can still stay with me and Becks. That apartment complex is literally five minutes away.”

It’s Tucker’s turn to clasp Macklin’s shoulder. “I appreciate it, dude. But I would still feel bad about not being able to pitch in with housing costs. My folks will be happy to have me. And my brother Theo has been begging me to find some time to watch him on the ice and give him some pointers. This might be the push I need.”

“Ok.” Coach nods. “I think staying with your folks will do you some good. Hopefully keep you out of trouble until you graduate. I swear this past few months you’ve shortened my life by a decade with all the fucking trouble you’ve gotten yourself into.”

Tucker hangs his head. “I’m sorry, Coach.”

“Go on now and get your stuff from the Gamma House. Hopefully, some of it can be salvaged.” Coach Harrison looks at his watch. “We had practice at seven, but I guess this turned into moving day. Shayba, tell your teammates that under the exceptional circumstances, morning skate is canceled today. I’ll see you all at four at the arena.”

CHAPTER 8

IN HIS SHADOW

Becker

Running always helps me clear my head.

And right now I’m going hard. Until my muscles burn and my chest is heaving.

I like my apartment because it’s quiet out here, away from the constant hustle and bustle of campus. But the best part is that it’s right on the beach, so I can run on the sand. It’s one hell of a workout. Even on the wet sand by the water.

My body is screaming at me by the time I collapse in an exhausted heap. The sea is lapping at my feet and the wet sand feels rough against the naked skin of my upper body, but I ignore it all.

For once in my life, running has done shit to quiet the noise in my head.

The last day and some change has been a whirlwind, to say the least.

I couldn’t have asked for a better performance in the opening game of the season.

Scoring a hat trick should have made Seattle scouts notice me. But as usual, Mack had to go and score three goals of his own.

Stuff like that is exactly why I had chosen to go to college in Bridgeport.