The Pucking Wrong Man: A Hockey Romance (The Pucking Wrong Series Book 4)

My leg was ruined. Every step I took felt like my tibia was going to poke through my skin. Running was never a good idea for my body.

But running after a full day of dancing and then walking to and from the arena, taking a million stairs on the way?

Devastating.

It was one of the few times in my life though where the devastation had been worth it. As I limped toward the shelter bathroom, I was reliving every play, every time it seemed like Camden had glanced at me.

Maybe I didn’t need a new leg, maybe I just needed Camden James. I was beginning to think he was the perfect drug. Just thinking of him made me feel better.

I pushed open the door to the bathroom, needing to wash my face before I got into my designated cot for the night. The fluorescent lights flickered above me, the smell of bleach and old, damp towels hitting my nose. As I stepped inside, my eyes adjusted to the dim light, and…

A girl, maybe a few years older than me, was crouched by the sinks, a needle in her arm. Her eyes widened, pupils like pinpoints, as our gazes locked.

“Shit,” I muttered, instinctively turning on my heel to leave. How had she even snuck that in? Drugs were a no-no at this place, and I was sure the people in charge would find out about her soon, but I wasn’t going to stick around in the meantime.

Before I could reach the door, she sprang at me like a wild animal, fear etched across her gaunt face.

“Don’t you dare tell anyone!” she hissed, her voice low and desperate as she grabbed my arm, her dirty fingernails digging into my skin.

I tried to push her off, but she was stronger than she looked. Her fist connected with my ribs, knocking the wind out of me. I stumbled, my back hitting the cold tiles. She came at me again, fists flying, and I raised my arms to protect my face. One of her punches glanced off my arm and hit my jaw, sending a jolt of pain through my skull.

“Stop!” I gasped, trying to fend her off. “I won’t tell! Just stop!”

But she was beyond reason. She seemed driven by panic and rage, and she slammed me against the sink. My head cracked against the porcelain edge, and a bright, blinding pain exploded in my skull. My vision blurred, and I felt myself slipping, the sounds of the bathroom echoing distantly in my ears.

As I lost consciousness, her terrified eyes were the last thing I saw as she disappeared from the room.

I blinked slowly, groaning because even blinking seemed to hurt. There was a buzzing sound in my head and it took me a second to realize I was hearing the hum of the lights above me.

I was still laying on the bathroom floor, no idea how long I’d been there. Not long enough that one of the staff hadn’t come yet, I guessed. I was going to get in trouble though if they did come in and found me like this. They’d probably think I was on drugs or something.

Like that girl…who’d just left me here.

Struggling to my feet, bile throbbed through my throat as the room dipped and swayed around me, and I had to stay on my knees as I tried to get my bearings. Something wet was sliding down my face, and I winced when I reached up and felt the gash right above my eyebrow. Examining my hand, I stared in horror at all the blood. The metallic scent filled my nostrils as I breathed. Head wounds bled a lot, right? So I probably only had a minor concussion.

Taking a deep breath, I heaved myself to my feet, staggering over to the sink so I could try and wash the blood off my face and get back to my cot.

Fuck. I looked like an extra in a zombie movie.

My white-blonde hair was matted, stained pink from the wound. Blood was smeared across my forehead where the cut was, and had trickled down my neck.

Stumbling, I turned on the tap. The water sputtered out, icy and stinging. I splashed it on my face, scrubbing at the dried blood with shaking hands. The pain in my head flared, but I gritted my teeth and kept going. I didn’t have time to be gentle.

“Come on, come on,” I muttered to myself, scrubbing harder. The water ran pink, swirling down the drain. I grabbed a wad of paper towels and pressed it to my forehead, hoping to slow the bleeding. It wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do.

I looked at myself again. Still a mess, but at least now I was a slightly more presentable mess. I splashed water on my hair, trying to rinse out the worst of the blood. The dizziness was still there, a constant, nagging presence, but I forced myself to stand straight.

The lights had already been dimmed when I made it out of the bathroom, my legs wobbling beneath me. I kept my head down as I limped to my cot, not wanting to draw any attention as I passed rows and rows full of sleeping women and children. A gray-haired woman with a scar across her cheek lifted her head up as I passed, staring at me with vacant eyes. A lifetime later, I sank onto it, pulling the thin blanket around me, trying to steady my breathing. The pain in my head pulsed, but at least I was out of that bathroom.

My eyes were closing almost immediately—a sure sign I should be keeping myself awake because I knew you weren’t supposed to sleep for a few hours after a head injury. The darkness behind my eyelids was a relief I wasn’t going to fight tonight, though. Concussion or not.

Tomorrow, I would deal with everything.

Or maybe I wouldn’t wake up.

Maybe it would be nice to not be in pain. I’d never see Camden again, though. A pang hit my heart at that thought.

I tried to be brave and positive every single day, promising myself things would get better. Tonight, though, I’d forgotten how to be either.

Camden

I practically burst through the front door of Charlie’s, pissed that her shift had started an hour ago, and I was just now getting here because of practice. The scent of frying oil and coffee mingled in the air. A few people stared at me from their dinner plates. I must not have looked as crazy as I felt because they soon turned their attention away.

It felt like I was barely keeping my life together at the moment.

Turns out stalking was a full-time job and being a professional hockey player was definitely getting in the way of it.

Where was she?

I ducked into the hallway leading to the restrooms, pretending like I was going to go to the men’s room, when really I just wanted to peek into the back scullery area and catch a glimpse of her.

When had it gotten to where I couldn’t breathe without her? Every time she was out of my sight, I worried and stressed. I still didn’t even know why she was living under the circumstances she was, but I did know I wanted to take her away and treat her like a princess. I just needed her to let me do that. Somehow.

She wasn’t in there, and I frowned, my heartbeat thumping strangely in my chest. She was working tonight, right? If she was already in the shelter and I couldn’t get inside to see her…I was going to lose my fucking mind.

At least a little more than I already had.

Striding back out to the dining room, I glanced around, a weird fluttering feeling taking off in my chest when I saw her bent over a table on the far side of the room, wiping it down.

Anastasia grabbed the spray bottle and stood up, anticipation growing in my gut as she began to turn around.

What. The. Fuck.

I was having trouble breathing as I stared at her.

Her face was a mess. A dark bruise shadowed one eye, and a fresh gash marred her forehead. Her white-blonde hair, usually bright and clean, was limp and bedraggled. She looked completely worn down, every bit of her energy and light sapped away. Anastasia started walking back across the dining room, headed for the hallway I’d just come from, clearly not having noticed me yet.

I practically lunged across the room.

“Anastasia,” I called softly, a tremble in my voice as I tried not to startle her. Anger was bubbling in my chest, and my hands ached to destroy whoever or whatever had done this to her.

Her shoulders stiffened and she slowly turned toward me, her eyes shiny and defeated.

“Who the fuck did this to you?” I growled.

For a second, she stared at me, a slight quiver to her lips. She was exhausted, devastated, at the end of her rope…and she let me see it all. But then I watched as a mask seemed to slide across her features, her gaze growing hard and cold. “Leave me alone, Camden,” she snapped, trying to brush past me.

“Wait, please,” I insisted, stepping in her path. “Talk to me?”

She whirled around, fury and despair written all over her stunning face. “You want to know what happened to me, Camden? Do you? Really? I got beat up by a druggie in a shelter bathroom. That’s right,” she hissed, leaning forward so she could point a finger at my chest. “A shelter. I’m. Fucking. Homeless.” She paused, her posture stiff and challenging, like she was waiting for me to run screaming from the restaurant at the news.

“Let’s go back there and finish this discussion,” I murmured, wanting to protect her from all the very interested eyes I could feel boring into my skull. I tried to gently grab her arm but she yanked it away from me, her hands shaking as she stalked toward the back hallway.

As soon as we turned the corner, she stopped and faced me, her hands fisted at her sides, her face reddening, the gash standing out on her forehead. “You happy?” she cried. “Now that you’ve discovered my dark, sad, little secret? Fun’s over, Camden, right? Don’t want to fuck the poor piece of trash, do you?”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut.

I don’t know what came over me then, but suddenly I was carefully pushing her against the wall and holding her wrists above her head with one hand as my body pressed against hers. I trailed my knuckles across her soft cheek as she shivered and whimpered under my touch.

Leaning forward, I brushed my lips against her ear, enjoying the way her breath hitched against me. “Let’s get something crystal clear, right now, baby girl. If I ever hear you talk about yourself like that again, I’m going to put you over my knee.”

She squeaked in indignation, making no move to get away from my grip, though. Anastasia’s eyes were wide, a rosy blush spreading across her skin. Her tongue peeked out and licked her bottom lip…like she was imagining licking me.

“Do you understand me, Anastasia?” I growled.

I could feel her chest heaving against me, her breasts brushing my chest with every breath she took. I felt like a sick piece of trash that my dick was hardening as her black eye glared at me. But I couldn’t help it.

Anastasia Lennox was a sickness in my bloodstream that I had no desire to cure.

When she still hadn’t said anything, I lifted my head so I could study her face. “I’m waiting, Ms. Lennox.”

She scowled at me for a long moment, biting down on her lip like she always did. I used my other hand to free it from her punishing bite.

“Yes, Daddy,” she spit sarcastically. I growled, pleasure shooting through me, my dick going from half-mast to fully erect. I liked that far more than I would’ve thought.

Fuck, I actually loved it.

I pressed my lower half against her stomach so she could feel how turned on I was.

Her eyes widened, and I stroked her fluttering pulse with my thumb. “Now that you’ve decided to be a good girl, tell me what you need.”

All at once her whole body fell, all the fight leaking out of it. “Why do you care?” she whispered brokenly. “You can’t do anything about it.”

“I want to help you more than I’ve ever wanted anything else in my entire life,” I told her truthfully.

That seemed to be another one of those invisible landmines because she stiffened again, trying to pull away from my touch. I was afraid she was going to hurt herself, so I let her go, taking a step away so she wouldn’t feel the need to fight me.

“Help?” she spat, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Right. Like that’s possible. Go back to your perfect life and forget about me.”

“Impossible,” I breathed, reaching forward to push a piece of hair out of her face.

“Why?” she challenged, tears welling in her eyes. “Why do you even care? I’m a mess. You can’t fix me, Camden. Why do you even pay any attention to me at all? You don’t know me, and you don’t want to. So just stay away from me. I can’t take any more disappointment.”

Anastasia turned and stormed back into the washroom, slamming the door behind her. I stood there for a moment, fists clenched, but then my anger faded into a calm peace. My course was set. She needed help, and if she wouldn’t accept it willingly…

I’d make her.

I went to follow her, and the pink-haired employee that she worked with was suddenly in the doorway, a fierce look on her face as she blocked my path.

“Don’t even try it,” she growled. “That girl’s had enough.”

The woman pulled a steak knife from behind her back and shook it at me.

Alright. I liked this lady.

I held up my hands and took a respectful step back. A steak knife to the ribs wasn’t really on the docket for tonight.

But I appreciated the effort on Anastasia’s behalf. It was nice to see that someone was on my little dancer’s side besides me.

“You can go back out there now, fancy pants.” She pointed the knife at me and slid it in the direction of the main dining area. “Get to walking.”

I shot a longing glance behind her where Anastasia was standing, with her back to us at the giant sink, furiously scrubbing dishes.

Knowing I had a lot of work to do to get her out of the shelter, I backed away, taking a few steps before I turned around—just so I was out of reach of the pink haired, steak knife lady.

A rare combination indeed—I snorted to myself at that one. Where was Lancaster when I needed him? He would have thought that comment was hilarious.

I hated every step I took away from her, but as I pushed out the door of Charlie’s, my path was set.

Getting into the car, I gripped the steering wheel, wondering if my plan was stupid. Maybe I should just kidnap her….

Her black eye and glistening tears filled my mind, macabre and awful and making me sick.

Memories came rushing up, to another time a woman’s black eye had brought me to my knees…

I was huddled in the corner of my room. I was seven years old today, but instead of my birthday cake and my new toy truck Dan had promised me—he had been fighting with Mommy all day.

Their yelling was coming from everywhere, shouts and crashes that kept making me jump. Mommy had told me to stay in my room, so I did, clutching my stuffed bear tight. Sometimes it got like this, I told myself. They always made up.

It felt like forever before the house got really, really quiet. Sometimes, the quiet felt even more scary than their yells.

I opened my bedroom door slowly and stepped into the hallway, my heart pounding. The living room was just ahead, and I walked quietly, in case my stepdad was nearby.

When I reached the living room, I saw Mommy on the floor, curled up and crying. Her face was different, with a black eye and blood on her lip. I froze. She looked up and her tear-filled eyes met mine. The pain and sadness in her face made my chest hurt.

“Mommy?” I whispered, my voice tiny and shaky.

Mommy tried to smile, but it looked wrong. She reached out to me, and I ran over, wrapping my arms around her. She held me tightly, her tears wetting my hair. Mommy always gave me good hugs, like she was trying to keep me safe from everything bad. She took a shaky breath and stroked my hair, her hand trembling.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” she whispered, her voice shaking but soft. “Mommy’s going to be okay. Don’t worry, my little brave boy.”

I laid down and stared at her with wide, tear-filled eyes, not fully understanding but wanting to believe her. I could see the pain in her eyes, the bruises on her face, but her touch was warm and made me feel a bit better.

“Are you hurt, Mommy?” I asked, my voice small and scared.

She forced a gentle smile, even though it looked like it hurt her to do it. “Just a little, Camden. But I’m strong, and I’ll be fine. You don’t have to worry, okay?”

“Mommy, I’ll take care of you,” I told her, handing her Teddy so she could feel better. Teddy always made me feel better.

She kissed the top of my head, her tears mixing with mine. “You and Teddy are so brave and sweet, my boy. Mommy is the luckiest to have you both.”

That made me smile because I wanted to be brave and sweet for her even though Dan didn’t like it when I was sweet.

She didn’t get off the floor all night, but she smiled every time I patted her back.

Teddy and I never left her side.

I came back to the present, squeezing the steering wheel so tightly that it made a cracking sound.

I’d failed my mother.

I wouldn’t fail Anastasia.

I couldn’t.