Hooked by Love (Bellevue Bullies 3)

Jesus, why did I say that? Soon, I’m gagging. I try to hide it, but he laughs harder. “Good to know.”

“Yeah, can I leave now?”

Shaking his head, he asks, “Is this how it’s gonna be between us? You being all weird around me?”

I scrunch my nose up. “You’re dating my mom. It’s weird.”

Rolling his eyes, he grins. “Fine. Go.”

“See ya,” I say, running away as fast as my skates allow me. I really need to accept what is going on between him and my mom, but I’m finding that harder than it probably should be. If she’s happy, I should be… And not want to blow chunks at the thought of him with her.

Ew.

Hitting the showers, I joke with the guys before getting dressed. Coach was right. I am the leader, and I can’t let outside shit mess with me. When I’m on the ice, that’s it. Hockey is the only thing I need to think about, and that’s final.

I just wish I believed I can do what I say.

Because all I can do is think of her.

Worry about her.

“Hey, Sinclair, how many goals you gonna get this year?” someone calls to me. I don’t see who since I’m looking at my Facebook.

Grinning, I look up as Markus says, “Doesn’t matter. I’m getting more.”

Punching his thigh, I laugh. “Please, and you know I’m breaking my record.”

That gets a round of razzing before my phone sounds and my heart jumps in my throat, thinking it’s her. I don’t know if I can be cool, act like I didn’t see what I did. But then I see that it’s Jude.

Jude: Call me.

Closing my eyes, my heart sinks as I wonder if Lucy talked to him. Instead of calling him, I call her.

“Hey, make it quick. I have a client coming in, like, two minutes.”

“Jesus, you’re busy.”

“Hey, you won’t complain when Christmas comes. What’s up?”

I clear my throat. “Did you talk to Jude?”

“No, I was gonna call him after lunch.”

“He just texted me to call him.”

“Then call him.”

I roll my eyes. “Bye, Lucy.”

“Talk to you later.”

She was no help. Staring down at my phone, I know I need to call him, but I really don’t want to. But I need too. Going to his name, I click it and wait as it rings.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” I say, nervousness eating me alive as I slide my shoes on and lock my bag up. “Bye, everyone,” I call to the guys. “You said to call.”

“Yeah,” he says, and I can hear the frustration in his voice. “I talked to Mom this morning, and she said Dad is coming to the game tomorrow.”