Page 69 of Pucking Them
Rebel Arena, Freedom
Shay
I flyacross the rink like the wind is beneath my skates.
No one can catch me.
I keep my gaze fixed on the goal and where I am going to hit the puck for the third time tonight.
I am winning this second game against the Penguins. I am bloody buzzing. So is D’Angelo and the rest of the team.
The entire arena.
Sometimes, I forget that there are as many fans as there are haters.
Although, is it only paranoia that made me feel like I was being watched, when I strolled through the corridors to the locker rooms this afternoon with Atlas, as part of our new buddy system?
I glanced around and couldn’t see anyone.
Yet the hairs on my neck still raised.
It was probably just because of my insomnia.
I haven’t been able to sleep uninterrupted for more than a couple of hours at a time since that interview was published by Peninsular Daily News.
Is it true?
Are Nicole and Craig my biological mum and dad?
They’ll never be my real parents. I already have those.
The Princes saved Eden and me from the system, taking us in even though they had barely enough money to spare for themselves. Yet they showed us what unconditional love meant. They’re the people who got us into school and sports.
They gave Eden his voice. They gave me my joy.
Eden and I owe the Princes everything. We owe the Webbs nothing.
Eden hates the Webbs. It’s why we argued yesterday.
What if the Webbs meant what they said? What if they do love us?
What if they’re sorry?
Noticing that I am distracted, Wilder tries to brutally check me.
Focused again, I spin around him like he’s insignificant. After the scene that D’Angelo and Eden put on in the playroom, I know that Wilder is.
I knew that he was before but only in my mind. D’Angelo made mefeelit. He has this way of rewiring me deep inside that should scare me but yet doesn’t.
Wilder is screaming chirps at me, but I don’t hear them. Wilder is as easy to ignore now as the fussing cry from a peacock behind a wall.
He can’t cope not being the center of attention. He’s no longer the player who anyone is watching.
My heart is soaring.
I remember the delicious taste of Robyn on my tongue and the deep ache of D’Angelo fucking owning me inside with his thick cock.
I remember the feeling of being caught safely between the man and woman I bloody worship and knowing that neither of them are abandoning or rejecting me.
