Page 45 of Pucks and Coffee

Just as my gaze lands on said hockey husband, I watch as he passes the puck in a clean, direct way before his teammate scores. Clara and I come out of our seats, screaming along with the crowd. My cheese cup and pretzel go flying, but I don’t care. A chant encouraging the boys starts, and I can’t help but join in. I’m smiling so hard it hurts. That’s Coleson’s ninth assist of the preseason, and not to toot my husband’s horn, but those are damn good numbers going into the regular season. He’s kicking ass.

I’m so damn proud.

“Oh, Katz must have scored.”

I look up to see Peepaw lowering himself into the seat beside me. I send him a hesitant smile. “He had a fantastic pass. Andrews scored.”

Peepaw nods, looking out at the ice. “Surprising that he passed to Andrews with all the drama going on between them.”

Don’t ask. It doesn’t matter. “What drama?”

Way to practice restraint, Eliza.

Peepaw scrunches up his forehead. “Andrews is the best friend of the guy who found his wife with Katz.”

“Peepaw,” Clara warns. “His past is just that, a past. Just like Eliza keeps saying.”

“I’m just stating facts, my girl.” He tears his gaze from hers, his green eyes sharp as he looks at me. “Andrews hates Katz and doesn’t want to be on the same line as him. But Katz is a damn good passer and can score if Andrews would allow him. McCoy isn’t worried, but I feel like things might blow up soon.”

I press my lips together. “Coleson hasn’t complained about a teammate—or anything, really. He just loves playing and is always excited to come to practice and games.”

“I know, and he’s good,” Peepaw agrees. “Which is why he’s still here. He made some mistakes, but I can’t deny the fact that he’s been doing his very best since everything went down.”

I want to smile, but I can’t help but feel like Peepaw doesn’t mean what he says. “Yet you don’t like him.”

He shrugs. “As a player, I love him, and he’s going to do great for the franchise until he ultimately moves up.”

“As my husband?” I ask, and I hate that I’m holding my breath as my peepaw thinks that over. He presses his lips together and then looks out at the ice.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” he says softly just to me, and Clara leans in closer since she’s nosy as all hell. Peepaw sets me with a look, and my stomach drops. “Protect your heart, my Eliza. You’re too pure for him.”

I hold his gaze as Clara comes to my defense. “Peepaw, she’s an adult. She knows what she’s doing.”

I love my sister, I do, and I love that she supports me so blindly. Given that Peepaw knows I agreed to this for a coffee shop, I feel guilty for continuing to lie to Clara, Austen, and Louisa. I know I need to, though, because if they knew, they’d say the same thing Peepaw is saying.

“You don’t know him like I do,” I tell him, not breaking eye contact. “He’s really good to me, and this could work out between us.”

He only nods as he looks away. “I just hope he doesn’t break you.”

His words vibrate in my soul as I look back at the ice. My sweet baby sister taps my hand and gives me a small smile. “If you have anything to do with it, it will. You love harder than anyone I know. How could he resist that?”

Once more, my stomach drops, and I force myself to smile back at her. “I love you, Clara.”

“I love you.” She beams, her sweet blue eyes shining against her pale skin, and her smile hits me dead in the chest. Elliot and Clara are the only ones of us who weren’t subjected to the abuse or beaten by our breeder and the people who were supposed to love and care for us. Instead, while our breeder did whatever she did, my sisters and I protected Elliot and Clara. We raised them, we loved them, and I would get my ass beaten over and over, knowing that what I endured kept them safe. Just to see that smile on Clara’s face. I squeeze her hand, and she winks at me just as Peepaw curses aggressively.

I look back out at the ice to see that the other team has scored. I find Coleson just as he throws his shoulder into his teammate. They exchange words, and it’s obvious that Coleson is livid.

“What happened?”

“Andrews didn’t pass the puck to Katz when he had an opening. Something has got to change here,” he snarls as he yanks out his phone. He opens his email app, and then he is typing violently. I want to ask what he is doing, but I know nothing about the situation. I don’t even know what to say to help.

All I can do is hope Coleson is okay.

* * *

It’s well past midnight when I hear the door open.

I keep my eyes closed as I listen to Coleson throw his keys in the bowl by the door, and then he quietly steps through the apartment to the bathroom. His consideration not to wake me warms my heart, so I don’t dare let him know I’ve been waiting for him since I left the arena. I listen as he takes a shower, moves around the bathroom, and then comes out a little later. The closet door opens and then closes. I hear his heavy, bare footfalls against the hardwood as he walks around the apartment. The light from the fridge fills the space briefly, but then it’s off. When I look over to where he is, I see the doors of the fridge are open, but his hand is over the sensor.

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