Puck Block : A Brother’s Best Friend Hockey Romance (Bexley U)
Puck Block : Chapter 29

I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’ll always have diabetes.

That’s old news to me.

Yet, I still find myself trying to come up with a solution to fix a problem that can’t really be fixed.

Ford is certain that, together, he and I can figure everything out, but even he can’t cure me from a lifelong disease; not to mention, we really shouldn’t be left alone anymore.

I turn at the sound from behind and see a long leg climbing out of my bedroom window and onto the roof. A chill whips around me when Ford slinks down, and it takes no longer than a few seconds for him to pull off his thick sweatshirt and hand it over without saying a word.

After his warmth settles over me, I slowly lie back down and stare up at the sky.

“I hate when you come out here.”

I smile to myself. He says the same thing every single time.

“That’s why I do it.” That’s not true, but it is an added bonus.

Ford leans back and lies beside me. We’re not touching, but I can feel his body heat pulsing next to me, even through the sweatshirt.

We haven’t been alone together since the other day in his car, and the way my body relaxes with him near tells me that I need him more than I’d like to admit.

“Here.” A brown paper bag falls to my stomach, and I huff out a breath. It crinkles when I grab onto it, and I immediately know what it is.

I pop to my elbows. “How did you–?”

Ford turns to me, and our eyes catch. His easy-going smile drives me insane. “Taytum, I can talk God out of Heaven. You don’t think I can talk a female pharmacist into letting me pick up your medication for you?” His hand falls to his chest. “It hurts that you have such little faith in me.”

I don’t tell him that I have all my faith in him, because God knows his ego doesn’t need to grow any more. I turn away and push the bag off to the side. My arms fall back to my sides when I lie back down, and we’re almost touching. “Thank you.”

I know he’s looking at me, but I keep my gaze on the stars because I’m afraid he’ll read every thought in my head.

“Wow, no jab? And I get a thank you?”

I try not to smile. “Give it time.”

He chuckles, and more silence passes between us. It’s a comfortable silence, though. The kind that you crave when you’re all alone in a crowded room with nothing but your thoughts, and then you look across the room and see the one person that makes you feel grounded.

Ford shifts beside me, and I think he’s getting up to leave, but instead, he sends my heart into a tailspin when his pinky finger hooks over mine. A subtle gasp rushes from my mouth and disappears into the cool air from the perplexity of what I feel from the briefest of touches. We’re connected by one tiny brush of our fingers, and yet, something I’ve never felt tumbles in and takes my breath away.

The feeling digs deep into my chest, and I’m terrified it’s never going to leave. I’m even more terrified that I’ll never feel this way with anyone other than him.

Out of pure panic, I blurt something that is wholly untrue and a complete and utter attempt at denial. “I have a date.”

Ford’s pinky clamps down over mine before he pulls his hand away. “You do? When?”

Shit. “Thursday.”

I now have three days to find some guy on Bex Hex and coerce him into taking me out on a date so I can embarrassingly cover up my big fat lie to Ford.

He makes me stupid.

“With who?” He’s suspicious. I can tell by the way the question draws from his mouth.

I play my part well and take it to an entirely new level when I turn and send him a flirty smile full of confidence. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Ford sizes me up, and my heart races. “I think, since I agreed to hide your dates from Emory, it means I have the final call. Remember? It’s part of the rules.”

I turn away because I feel the way my nose wants to scrunch with another lie. He was right! “You don’t know him.”

He scoffs. “All the more reason for you to give me the details.”

I would, but there are none.

The faintest growl leaves him. “You probably don’t even have a date. You just like to irritate me.”

True and also true.

“I do have a date,” I argue with full conviction.

He sits up abruptly and bends his knees. His arms rest over them as he stares at me. “Prove it.”

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I sit up just as quickly. “Fine. I will.”

His eyes light up with the challenge, so naturally, I take it a step further.

“I’ll make sure to send you a full bio and pair it with a photo on Thursday. Will that make you happy?”

Ford exhales slowly and repeats my question. “Will you going on a date make me happy?”

The question lingers between us for what feels like an entirety before he turns and starts to climb back through my window. I watch his steady movements and the way he swings his long legs through the opening with ease before he bends down and places his hands on the windowsill. He looks me dead in the face and says, “I’d love nothing more than for you to go on a date, Taytum. I’ll be waiting for the photo to come through on Thursday.”

He leaves me with a wink on the roof, all alone with my brown paper bag full of insulin.

When I hear his car take off from down below, I crawl back into my room, open up Bex Hex, and message every single guy that’s swiped right on my photo.

Most of them respond within minutes, and I can’t help but pick the one that I think will piss Ford off the most.

Professor Sterling.

Perfect.

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