The Puck Secret: Chapter 38

There is a truck ramming into the side of my head, there has to be. That’s the only way to explain the pounding inside of my skull. I flicker my eyes open and register three things all at once. Firstly, I’m not in my room. It looks like I’ve spent another night this week passed out on the sofa. Secondly, my mouth feels like the pits of the Sahara desert. And lastly, I can smell the scent of Maddie all around me. Don’t ask me how I know it’s her, I just do. Everything about her is now ingrained in me, hence the drinking. Her lingering presence has me shooting up into a sitting position, looking around wildly for any trace of her. Ignoring the hammering inside my head, and trying to find my perfect, little liar. When I come up empty, I frown.

I remember seeing her, or at least I think I do. I remember being here drinking, and then at the bar, more drinking, there may have been some fighting too, and then there was her. I was in her car and she was here, at least I think that’s what happened, I just can’t be sure. The only thing I am sure of right now is that clearly I drank more than I can easily handle. My head feels like it might implode, and the dryness in my throat is about to be treated to my vomit. I force a deep inhale through my nose and out through my mouth, in an attempt to try and force my nausea back down.

Spying my phone on the table I reach out to grab it, hoping it might bring back some of my memories. It’s almost 9am which means I have missed another workout with Archer, he is going to be pissed. Sighing, I unlock my phone and scroll through the notifications, ignoring most of them until I spy one for a new voicemail. When I click on it I see Maddie’s name, well Grim, and blinking at me is a new voicemail from. She called me. Not just that, but she left a voicemail too. What does it say?

I know I shouldn’t do it, that I shouldn’t listen to whatever she has to say and torture myself some more, but I’m just so sure she was here. I have images of her running her hands through my hair and telling me she was sorry.

Or did that really happen, was she really here, and is she really sorry? I’m pulling up the voicemail before I can change my mind, and only a few seconds pass before I hear her shaky voice.

“

,” she starts, and it sounds like she is out of breath. “I ,” she adds, inhaling heavily. “

.” Her tone is so sincere and if I’m not mistaken, it sounds like she might be crying. Why is she crying?

“

.” Another trembling breath slips past her lips, and I close my eyes as I imagine how she must have been feeling when she left this message. Why didn’t I just answer?

“

.” Her voice sounds the same as it did when she said it to me last night, or at least I think it does. The words just feeling so familiar. “

.” Her voice breaks further with each word, and every one is like a shard of glass to my heart. She sounds so broken, so defeated, so crushed, and the pain I have been trying to numb all week comes back in full force.

“

,” she cries, her breath evening out a little as it turns into a little laugh. “

.” I smile at the way she says that, at the memories it evokes of her battling me at every turn. “

.” I can tell she means every word, and my heart breaks all over again, especially when she quietly adds, “

.”

There is a long pause, the line filled with just the sound of her quick, soft, pants of breath, before she adds, “

.” Her words have my eyes snapping open. What the fuck does she mean, she has to get married? “

.”

Forced? She is being forced? What the fuck is going on? Who the fuck is forcing her? Is it him? That piece of shit Thorne? Just wait until I get my fucking hands on him. Fury burns up inside of me but her delicate, shaky voice just keeps going.

“

.”

Those words slice right through me, especially when I think about the brutal way I fucked her behind the bar before I left her. Did I make a mistake? Should I have given her time to explain herself? Clearly there is something more going on here, and I need to find out what.

“

.” Truth? What’s the truth? And I couldn’t hate her if I tried, and trust me, I’ve fucking tried.

“

.”

The call cuts off and I am left reeling. What the fuck? What the hell does she mean she doesn’t have a choice? I can’t comprehend the words I just heard, and before I can hit the button to play it again, Archer is bursting through the front door with Reign and Harper on his heels.

“Nova,” his voice booms, eyes cutting right to the sofa where I presume he left me, before he storms towards me. “Get up, you need to see this.”

He tosses a pile of newspapers at me before I can even move, and though my eyes flick down to take them in, I still can’t think straight. My mind is lost with her, in her words, dissecting every one as I try to come up with answers. I don’t even read the headline, just look back to my best friend as I ask, “Was Maddie here last night?”

Archer drops to the table in front of me, and it’s only then that I notice the mess I have been stewing in all week has been cleaned away. “Yes, I called her, she was here, but that’s not what’s important right now,” he starts, pointing to the papers in my lap.

What does he mean it’s not important? It’s the only thing that matters right now, I need to find out what’s going on. “She called me,” I say, ignoring him once more. “She left me a voicemail, I don’t know what it means, well, maybe I do…” I trail off, and Archer huffs.

“Read the fucking paper, bro, something’s happened.” He nods to the paper again, and when Harper and Reign both move to join him, I feel a swell of panic in my stomach as I look down to read what he gave me.

The headline doesn’t make sense to me, so I drop my eyes to take in the rest of the article, scanning the words quickly and once again ignoring the pounding in my head. It’s an article about point shaving, specifically about the star of the Fairfield U football team, and Maddie’s intended, Bradley Thorne, and how he has been exposed for cheating. The NCAA have already been notified and ramifications for those involved and the school are still pending.

I knew the guy Maddie was with was a piece of shit, just from the couple of interactions I have had with him, or more specifically the ones she had with him in front of me, but this is another level entirely. He’s going to be tossed off the team for sure, probably even from the school entirely, and who knows what fines or legal trouble he could be in. The NCAA doesn’t mess around when it comes to this kind of stuff. The rest of the team will be lucky if they are even allowed to the playoffs next year after this.

Yet I don’t give a fuck about him, or the team, no, my only focus is on whatever he is doing to Maddie. I’m not even finished taking the information in when Reign chimes in with, “That’s not all.”

I snap my eyes to his, the haze from my hangover still out in full force, but I push it aside. “What else?” I demand, trying to piece together how this and Maddie’s phone call could be connected, what it all means.

“We saw Levi Jones in the gym,” Reign sighs, referring to Josh Peters’ best friend and our teammate, and confusion as to where he is going with this takes over, as he glances at Archer, the two having a silent conversation with just their eyes.

“Just tell me what it is,” I snap, knowing there is nothing they could tell me right now that is worse than what I am imagining in my head.

“Jones was with Josh all weekend, they’re the ones who exposed Thorne,” Archer says slowly, and I am waiting for the other shoe to drop when he pauses trying to gauge my reaction. Okay, so her brother put him on the chopping block, I guess he saw what a massive dick he was, just like I did. I don’t see what that has to do with me.

When I don’t say anything in response, Harper steps in. “Levi said Josh’s dad was behind this engagement bullshit with baby Peters, that he threatened her place at FU to get her on board with his plan. Some bullshit business deal he had going on,” he shrugs, like his words aren’t imploding my whole world.

“That’s why Josh went after Thorne, so he could get him out of the picture,” Reign cuts in. “So he could ruin his prospects and prevent Maddie from being forced into marrying him.”

Word after word that only fuels the anger rising up inside of me. She didn’t betray me, she didn’t lie to me, not truly anyway. When I asked her about Thorne, she said there was something, I didn’t question it further. Hell, in her goddamn messages before I even knew who she was, she made me promise not to fall in love with her, because she knew. She knew an was coming for her, that she had been and into it, and for what?

?

Hugo Peters, esteemed Mayor of Fairfield, not only a piece of shit husband, but apparently a piece of shit father too. I should have known. Should have looked harder for the truth, listened more to the words she didn’t say, and relied on her actions towards me instead. Yes, she was pushing me away, but at the same time she was holding on for dear life, pouring her entire being into me before she lost herself forever. And what did I do? I walked away.

I have to see her. I need to go to her now and tell her I’m sorry. That I don’t care what her dad says, that she isn’t marrying Thorne or any other fucking prick he picks out for her because she belongs to me. She has belonged to me since the night she knocked on my door and pushed her way into my room. I didn’t know it then, but she pushed her way into my heart too.

“I need to see her,” I exclaim as I stand, pushing past them and looking for my shoes and jacket.

“Shouldn’t you shower first,” Jake says hesitantly, looking at me with a frown. Shower? Is he fucking serious? Does he not realize how badly I fucked up?

Before I can say anything, my phone starts ringing from the sofa and I pause. It’s her, it has to be her, she must have heard from her brother about what he did to Thorne, and now she is coming back to me. She wants to make this right. I dive for my phone, not even looking at the caller ID before I swipe up.

“Maddie?” I rush out her name in panicked hope, praying she will forgive me.

A short silence greets me, my hope only growing before a firm voice asks, “Am I speaking with Nova Darkmore?”

I frown, pulling the phone away from my ear to check the number, but it just says, ‘unknown caller’. I bring it back to my ear as I respond, “This is he.”

“Mr Darkmore, this is Jennifer, I’m calling from Fairfield Medical Center. It’s about your mother, Diana Darkmore.” More words follow, and as I listen to what she has to say, every other thought in my mind just melts away.