Page 6 of Pucking Stepbrother
He pulls his helmet off and I realize it’s Asher when he slams his fist into the barrier aiming for my head. “Fuck off, freak,” he growls at me.
Winking at him and blowing him a kiss before he skates away garners me a flick of his middle finger and a poisonous glare. How cute. Of course, my asshole of a stepbrother is on the ice hockey team. That explains his bulky muscles and his no one can fuck with him attitude.
I decide on staying and watching practice. Knowing it will make Asher murderous, but also because as much as I don’t want to admit it, I miss being on the ice.
I sit down and pull out my phone, noticing I have a message from Charlotte. Rubbing my hands over my face before I open the text message, I’m hoping it’s not bad news about my little sister.
Charlotte
He’ll be in hospital for a while.
Me
Is Eb okay?
Charlotte
She is. He didn’t touch her. She misses you.
Me
Can you keep an eye on her, please?
Charlotte
Of course. My dad wiped the evidence, so you’re clear.
Me
Why can’t he put that fucker away for life?
Charlotte
You know it doesn’t work like that. Where are you?
Me
It doesn’t matter.
Charlotte
I miss you.
I don’t respond to her after that. I don’t need her thinking she’s something more than a hole to fuck and the way I am at the moment, she deserves better than what I can offer. My attention is snatched to the cheers and claps that echo across the rink as the ice skaters enter for their practice.
I ignore everyone’s enthusiasm and go back to scrolling on my phone, deciding hiding away here all day is a better option than going to orientation classes. I’m preoccupied playing amind-numbing game on my phone when I feel the presence of someone standing behind me. Glancing over my shoulder, I see Asher and a few of his teammates hovering over me.
“Got something you want to say, trailer park?” Asher’s harsh voice causes goosebumps to spread over my skin.
“Nope.” I turn back around, disinterested, and focus on my phone.
“I see that being talkative doesn’t run in the family. That mom of yours is always running her gold-digging whore mouth,” he chuckles, as the audible shock from his teammates echoes around me.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” I reply, not giving a fuck what he says. It takes a lot more than that to rile me up. Fucking amateur.
“I heard your little half-sister likes big dicks in and around her mouth,” he laughs.
His words cause anger to ripple through me as my head pulses with adrenaline. Clenching and unclenching my fists, I try to control my seething rage, but I can’t stop myself. I stand and face the prick as he sizes me up, probably thinking this is going to be an easy fight. But this ice hockey playing, wannabe tough fuck doesn’t know that I fight dirty.