He was tempted to stop and pick up Liam because he didn't want to be alone, but he knew he couldn't do that. Liam was fine where he was. Roan would go home, get some sleep, and start over again tomorrow.
Maybe then some of this would make sense.
Twenty-Three
"FUCKING HELL," SEG GROANED WHEN he rolled over. His head was spinning, the blood pounding behind his eyes. He fought to keep them open, to look around.
He recognized his room. His alarm clock. His bed.
Well, the good news was that he'd somehow managed to make it home, but he must've face-planted on the mattress, because the damn thing was still made, but his pillows were on the floor.
"Thank Christ," he grumbled.
He got the feeling that was all the good he'd get for today. Maybe forever.
Rolling over onto his back, he closed his eyes again, trying to remember what the fuck happened last night.
It all came back to him in a blinding rush and his stomach lurched.
The game. The reporter. The Penalty Box.
"Ah, damn."
He recalled the puck bunny, but he didn't remember her name. Not that it mattered.
Kaufman.
"Seg, what the hell are you doing, man?"
Looking up, Seg noticed the concerned gaze of his team's captain. "Wassup, Optimus?"
"Man, no more for you." Kaufman's tone left no room for argument.
"No worries," Seg explained. "I was just about to leave. Going home with … " He glanced at the woman sitting on his lap. For the life of him, he couldn't fucking remember her name.
"Hey, sweetheart," Kaufman said to the woman. "He's had more than his fair share tonight. Why don't you write down your number and I'll make sure he gets it."
Seg didn't want her fucking number. He didn't want her.
With Kaufman's help, the woman got off Seg's lap, her blue eyes twinkling as she smiled down at him. Seg tried to smile. He wasn't sure if he succeeded or not because he was numb. Head to toe. And he had the alcohol to thank for that. The shots had worked nicely.
"I need to go home," he muttered to himself, trying to push up out of his seat.
"I've got a cab coming for you," Kaufman told him.
Seg nodded. He might be the world's biggest dumb ass-proven by his actions tonight-but he damn sure knew he was in no shape to drive.
As the memory faded, Seg's head pounded at the base of his skull.
Shit.
Had it not been for Kaufman interfering, who knew what Seg might've done last night.
He forced his eyes open.
Yes, Kaufman had both driven the nail into the coffin of his career and saved him from doing something stupid. The guy had convinced Seg to dump the puck bunny and go home. He'd even called Seg a cab.
Forcing himself to sit up, Seg dropped his feet over the edge of the bed and waited while his brain stabilized. He stared at the floor as the conversation with Roan replayed in his head.
Damn it.
He'd fucked shit up in a bad way last night.
For that, he deserved the hangover.
And then some.
After taking a shower, Seg managed to make his way to the kitchen. His mother was sitting at the small kitchen table, playing on her iPad.
"Good afternoon, sunshine," she greeted, though her tone wasn't as cheerful as she probably thought.
"Afternoon," he grumbled back, making his way to the refrigerator.
"Long night?"
"Yeah."
"What time did Roan leave?"
Seg didn't look at his mother. No way could he answer that without her realizing what a total fuckup he was. He had no idea what time Roan left, but he assumed it was shortly after Roan called him and Seg pretty much blew him off by telling him he was going to let the puck bunny ride his dick.
Aw, damn. He was going to be sick. He headed for the sink, leaned over, and planted his hands on the counter.
"Seggy?"
"Hmm."
"Want to talk about it?"
"Nothing to talk about."
"No?"
He glanced over to see his mother holding up her iPad.
"I'd beg to differ."
Seg squinted at the screen to see a picture of Roan and Deb smiling and laughing. It was taken during the hockey game last night. Seg didn't have to be a rocket scientist to know what the article was about.
He stood up straight, took a deep breath, and exhaled through his nose. The nausea subsided. "I need to call Roan."
"Seggy, sit down."
Seg turned toward his mother. Her expression was serious, her tone reflecting her worry.
"I don't need a lecture, Ma."
"Sit. Down."
When Debra Seguine took that tone of voice, Seg knew not to argue. He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and took the chair across from her.
"I want you to think back to before last night."
He continued to watch her.
"You were happy."