Page 10 of The Pucking Wrong Man

“He can’t hear you, Disney,” Ari called as he chased down the puck. “No need to simp.”

Walker groaned behind me as Ari sent the puck to Turner, who then started for the net.

“Fuck yes!” I screamed when Turner shot and it slid past Detroit’s goalie. The buzzer blared and the goal light went off as the crowd screamed like we’d won instead of just tied.

Ari and I jumped on Turner, celebrating his goal, and then Coach was yelling for us to get on the bench as Peters and Fredericks jumped over the boards.

We sat down, watching as Detroit was immediately by our goal, firing shots at Walker. There wasn’t a substitute for the best, and Ari and I were...the best.

“If that popcorn guy passes by Monroe one more time,” Lincoln suddenly growled from my other side. “She doesn’t need any fucking popcorn!”

“Huh?” I asked, not expecting popcorn to be in the conversation at this point of the game.

I did a fist pump as Walker made another save while Ari cursed at Fredericks to get his ass moving.

“He’s fucking walking by again!”

“Linc, Golden Boy, Captain, oh, Captain. There’s a terrifying bodyguard between my bestie and ‘Popcorn Boy.’ She’s going to be fine,” Ari muttered, shooting his own glance over to the girls, probably to make sure that “popcorn boy” wasn’t actually a threat. His wife, Blake, was also sitting over there.

Tearing my gaze off the ice, I glanced into the first row where the “first ladies” of the team were sitting. Monroe, Blake, and Olivia seemed to be popcorn free at the moment.

I couldn’t imagine caring enough about a girl to worry if the concessions guy was within fifteen feet...but maybe it was a circle of trust thing.

The circle of trust was...well, I wasn’t quite sure what it was, yet. It seemed to consist of my teammates Lincoln Daniels, Ari Lancaster, and Walker Davis—all stars on the team and in the League—and it seemed to be some kind of group for men scarily obsessed with their girls.

But again...I wasn’t quite sure what it really was.

I only knew that I kind of wanted in.

“James and Lancaster, go!” Coach Kim yelled, and Ari and I jumped onto the ice immediately and launched ourselves into the fray.

I slammed Detroit’s center into the boards, and Ari whooped loudly as he sent the puck out from behind the goal.

Walker crouched down and hit both sides of the goal, tracking the puck.

“Good fucking boy,” Lincoln screamed as Walker blocked a shot.

I swear Walker preened.

He definitely had some kind of man crush on Lincoln Daniels.

I wasn’t too big of a man to say that I kind of felt the same way.

Maybe it was another circle of trust thing.

The crowd booed when one of Detroit’s defenders smacked his stick against Lincoln’s legs—sending him sprawling to the ice. No whistle from the ref, of course.

Another thing that was typical for this game.

“Hey, ref, you pregnant? You’ve missed two periods,” I sniped as I skated past.

“James, that was actually funny,” Ari said as he skated past me.

I snorted and flipped him off.

“Quit your chirping. There’s two fucking minutes left,” one of the assistants screamed.

As if we didn’t know that.

---