Page 3 of Pucking Revenge

Oddly, I find that comforting. He feels a bit like mine, and now I’m feeling stupidly territorial. If he has his sights set on a woman, then there’s a good chance he won’t be hanging around much.

My stomach sinks. We spend the majority of our free time together and I’m not looking forward to giving that up.

Without him, the loneliness would be all-consuming. Especially since my boyfriend rarely has the time for me and insists our relationship remain a big, fat secret.

But if anyone deserves to be happy, it’s Brooks.

I fold my legs and turn to face him. “Tell me about her. What’s she like?” I edge closer and grip his bicep. “Do I know her? Is she nice? Will she like me?” When he doesn’t reply fast enough, I duck my chin and whisper, “Does she like Lake?”

This is a trick question.

If she doesn’t like Lake Paige, then we can’t be friends. Because who doesn’t like Lake? She’s like the queen of pop. I live my life by the songs she writes. Not long ago, she caught her boyfriend cheating on her with her tour manager, so she dumped his ass. Then she got even by fucking his dad. Basically, she’s my idol.

But—and this is a huge but—if she likes Lake, then this thing between Brooks and me, this friendship whose foundation was built around a mutual love of Lake Paige, will no longer be special. Because he’ll share that love with this other woman as well.

Dramatic, maybe, but that’s who I am. Deal with it.

My phone buzzes beside me, catching my attention.

SL: Just getting back. Come over.

When I look up, flipping the phone so it’s face down on the rug, Brooks is zeroed in on it.

He clears his throat, and a flush works its way up his cheeks. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to look. I’ve gotta go.”

I grasp his arm and squeeze softly. “Wait, you never answered my question.”

He drops his chin and blinks at our connection, so I release him.

“Yeah, you’d like her.” He shakes his head and stands. “But it’s nothing,” he says, his shoulders slumped and his tone full of defeat. “She doesn’t know I exist.”

“Impossible,” I say, picking the bowl of popcorn up off the floor and placing it beside the television.

Andie and Ben are now singing to one another. This scene always sucks me in.

It takes me a moment to pull my focus away from the screen. When I do, Brooks is already at the door, slipping his shoes on. “You’re the best guy I know, Brooks Langfield,” I remind him. “And my bestest friend.”

He chuckles, his head lowered. “Yeah, after Lennox.”

I roll my eyes. “Eh, you took me to see Lake Paige. And introduced me. You are totally winning the best friend contest.”

Brooks beams as he opens the door. “Night, Sar.”

“Night, Brookie.”

THE HOCKEY REPORT

“Good Morning, Boston, and what a good one it is! I’m Colton, and with me is my co-host, Eliza, and we’re here to bring you the Hockey Report.”

“Thanks for the introduction, Colton, and good morning, Boston. It’s so great to be back in the studio now that hockey season is underway. Especially after last night’s season opener, where our Boston Bolts took home a win.”

“The boys looked great. Even the new guy. If you didn’t tune in, we’ll give you a quick rundown. Sanders has been traded, and Daniel Hall has officially taken over in the first line as a left winger.”

“Yes, Colton. I think we all collectively held our breaths, waiting to see if Hall could measure up to Sanders. He left some big skates to fill after shooting the winning goal that led the Bolts to bringing home the Cup last year. From what we’ve seen so far, Daniel Hall’s nickname, Playboy, may really be a nod to nothing other than his skills on the ice.”

Colton laughs. “I’m sure plenty of young women in Boston would disagree, but number 18 certainly is a playmaker. And with War and the Leprechaun joining him on the line, Boston has a real shot at going all the way again.”

“For those who are new to Boston hockey, Aiden Langfield, number 12, is the Leprechaun,” Eliza explains.“And number 7, right winger Tyler Warren earned his moniker—War—because he’s a fighter through and through.”

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