Page 118 of Oh, Puck!
He doesn't look up. I look to Mason who shrugs his shoulders and gives me a look that sayskeep trying.
So… I do. I do what I've been doing my entire fucking life, and swallow my own damn pride just to keep this family functioning.
"Look, Beck. We've got sixty minutes of hockey to play. I know last night was shit, but this is the biggest game this franchise has ever had. The biggest gamewe'veever had." I take a breath andwatch him carefully. "Whatever this is, whatever's going on, how about we park it until after?"
"Park it?" He laughs, but it's a sound I've never heard come out of Beck before. It's flat and there's no funny punchline. "Yeah. Sure. Let me justparkthe fact that my entire childhood was a group project everyone worked on except me."
"That's not—"
"YouKNEW!" He rockets up out of the stall so fast his stick clatters to the floor. He takes a leap forward, and now he's in my face, nostrils flaring before my eyes. "YOU KNEW, DECLAN! Every holiday, every birthday, every time Dad stood up at dinner and gave one of his big speeches aboutfamily… You just sat there and let me clap."
"I was protecting you!" I roar, not backing down as my chest collides with his.
But Beck's face does something I'll see for the rest of my life.
It doesn't crumple. Ithardens.
"Andthereit is." He growls, his teeth grinding through the words. "The whole fucking problem, right there. I'm not your brother, I'm yourproject. Poor stupid Beck, can't handle the truth, better manage him. Better keep the baby laughing so he doesn't notice the goddamn house is on fire!"
The whole room is silent as Beck's words echo around us.
"You know what the worst part is? It's not even Dad. Dad's just an asshole with a yoga membership. It's YOU. Because he lied to Mom, but you lied tome."
Beck gets right in my face again, and my fists curl at my sides. My blood is boiling, and if he wasn't my brother, I swear to fucking God—
"Every day you lied to me! And yet somehow, you still managed to tell astrangerbefore you told me!"
"She's not a stranger."
"NO, apparently she's the love of your life, which the ENTIRE PACIFIC COAST knows now. So congratulations on your communication breakthrough, Captain Dipshit—"
"Hey—" Mason steps between us, one hand on each of our chests. "Both of you just back up. We're not doing this here. Not—"
"Like hell we're not." Beck shoves Mason's arm off, and Mason—who absorbs everything, who has never once pushed back in his life—shoves him back.
They stare at each other for a split second, then Beck's gloves hit the floor.
It's on, faster than if I was on the ice. My hands are fisted in Beck's jersey as all three of us scuffle backwards until we're wrestling against the wall. Fists start flying and the whole goddamn room explodes around us, with Finn shouting and Sawyer lunging off the bench to split us up.
It doesn't help.
My knuckles connect with Beck's shoulder, or maybe his jaw. I can't tell anymore, but pain starts shooting up my arm as we crash into a row of stalls. Someone's helmet clatters across the tile as Mason's forearm locks around my throat from behind, dragging me backward.
"FUCK OFF!" I roar, and I plant my heel and drive us both into the bench, splintering it.
Beck's on the floor now, scrambling, blood at his lip, and I can taste it in my own mouth before Finn's weight finally slams into all three of us at once.
"ENOUGH!"
Coach Pearson's roar silences the room.
He's standing in the doorway, and behind him, faintly, I can hear the media scrum in the corridor. The fucking vultures have been circling since last night, cameras and questions andMorrisonon every tongue.
Coach steps into the room and kicks the door shut. He looks at the three of us tangled together in the middle of his locker room.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he spits out. "Let go of each other.Now."
We let go and Coach walks a circle around us, stepping over Beck's stick before kicking the random helmet across the room.
