Page 101 of Pucking Amazing

I should probably be resting, letting my body heal, but with the playoffs in full swing and the team’s morale at rock bottom after Mikey’s drug-induced blow-up with the owners went viral, I can’t afford to show any weakness.

Gotta keep up the facade of DJ the indestructible stallion, even if my body’s screaming otherwise underneath the pads.

And even if all I can think about is the voicemail from Sydney last night, shattering the fragile thing that she and I and Tyler had been building…

I shut down that line of thought. I can’t think about Sydney if I want to be at all functional during practice.

The news about Mikey fell like a bomb in the locker room. I skate past huddles of the guys muttering grimly about the social media shitstorm.

“—PR nightmare. Trending on Twitter all night?—”

“—suspension for sure. At the worst possible time?—”

The toll it’s taking is plain to see. Nerves are frayed raw. During drills, guys snap at each other over botched passes.

“Watch the fucking puck, Rook!” Lukas snarls at the new guy after a sloppy turnover. The poor kid blanches like he took a sucker punch to the gut.

On breaks, the team’s usual banter dies on their lips. Everyone just slumps against the boards, eyes vacant, lost in their own heads. Slade gives me a hopeless look. I can tell he’s been trying all morning to get the guys to shape up, but no dice so far.

Pulling myself together, I try to inject some pep, get everyone focused on the task at hand. “Let’s clean it up out there, boys! Playoffs on the line. No passengers—we need all hands on deck!”

My voice strains with projected positivity, but inside, I’m fraying at the seams. How am I supposed to hold this ship together when my own foundation is crumbling? This shit with Syd is throwing me way off my game.

She’s shutting me and Ty out, slipping through our fingers, and I have no idea how to put everything right.

We’re halfway through the latest drill when things start to really fall apart. At first all I notice is that some of the team isn’t where they’re supposed to be on the ice. Gaps yawn where usually there’d be bodies filling the lanes.

Then I realize why—Nikolai’s off his angle, lagging behind the play. And so is Marcus…shit.

I charge across the ice, my skates sparking shavings as I throw myself between the two of them. They’re grappling like a pair of angry bears, gloves and sticks scattered around them.

“Break it up, you meatheads!” I yell, trying to pry them apart.

Their sweaty jerseys slip through my fingers. My own frustration is bubbling up inside me, ready to blow. It’s been building all damn practice.

Nikolai spits out his mouth guard. “Stay out of this, DJ! This prick needs to learn how to pass.”

“Screw you,” Marcus snarls back. “Maybe if you could skate half as fast as you run your mouth?—”

I shove my way between them again as they lunge for each other. “I said knock it off!”

Marcus sneers at me, his lip curling. “Oh, look who’s talking. Big man DJ, always sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. I see you trotting after Sydney like a little puppy dog. You sniffing around the new shrink or something? Bet it’d be easy enough to dazzle her, use her and lose her like everyone else who’s unfortunate enough to land in your bed. How about you focus on that?”

My vision flashes red. I feel the anger rising up my throat like bile.

How dare he bring Sydney into this, implying I’m taking advantage of her?

He has no idea about the connection we have, the way she makes me feel seen and understood for once in my life...

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” I growl.

“Hit a nerve, huh? You’re just pissed Sydney won’t let you hit something else...” Marcus makes a crude gesture and the other guys snicker.

Something snaps inside me.

Without even thinking, I rear back and my fist collides with his jaw with a sickening crack.

Marcus staggers back, eyes wild with shock and fury. Before I can even process what I’ve done, he launches himself at me in a flurry of fists.

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