Page 9 of The Pucking Wrong Man

But this time, I embraced it.

I stayed numb when they discharged me a week later, wheeling me out to Michael’s smiling parents who shared the same watery-eyed cold stare as their son.

I stayed numb when they locked me in my new room.

I stayed numb when they made me ask permission for any food I wanted to eat in their home.

I stayed numb when I had two more surgeries on my leg, and an infection set in that made me sick for weeks.

But I gritted my teeth when I took my first step in physical therapy, and it hurt so bad I felt like I might die.

I forced myself to walk, and then to walk even farther, and then to run.

And when it was finally time, I forced myself…to dance.

CHAPTER 2

CAMDEN

“Fucking hell, Rookie. If you miss another pass, I’m going to have Camden fuck your grandma,” Ari yelled as Logan skated after the puck.

I scoffed, tracking the puck as Detroit’s defensemen sent it across center ice.

“Why did I get volunteered for the job?” I griped.

“Logan can’t fuck his own grandma, James. And you’re the only one of us currently unattached.”

I huffed right before I slammed one of Detroit’s forwards into the boards, the sound of his answering groan music to my ears.

“You’re also the only one on the team that’s age appropriate for my grandma,” Logan helpfully added because he never missed a chance to point out that I was almost ten years older than him.

Asshole.

At least he hadn’t called me “Grandpappy” today. That was an improvement.

“Rookie, when you score more goals, you can talk shit,” Ari commented as Logan lined up for a faceoff.

The whistle blew and Logan wrestled the puck away and tried to pass it to Lincoln...only for it to get stolen and sent back toward our goal.

Typical for the game, actually.

It was the final period and we were down by one against Detroit.

Embarrassing really, since Detroit was one of the worst teams in the league.

We were the fucking Knights. We didn’t lose to teams like Detroit.

Or at least we weren’t supposed to.

“Hey, ref,” Ari called as the whistle blew for a penalty...again. “Does your wife know you’re screwing us?”

That got a small smirk out of the ref, which wasn’t helpful since he still sent Logan to the penalty box.

We were now playing with one man down. Perfect.

Coach’s booming voice echoed across the ice, cutting through the chaos of the game. “New line! New line!” he bellowed, his words ringing out loud and clear above the roar of the crowd. Lincoln shook his head and skated off the ice with Jones as Turner and Larsson took their place.

“Really, we’re taking Lincoln out?” Walker snarled from the goal behind me as play started again.

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