Page 103 of Pucking Amazing

Maybe this is a bad idea. We both need space, time to process this fuckery.

I should respect her request from the voicemail last night, not push her right now. But I ache with missing her, missing them, so viscerally my vision nearly blurs.

I can’t leave it like this.

Rapping my knuckles against the wood, I suck in a sharp breath. “Syd? You in there? It’s me. Can we talk?”

CHAPTER 36

SYDNEY

A knock at my office door jolts me out of the paperwork trance I’ve thrown myself into for the past hour. I look up to see DJ standing in the doorway.

At first I think he’s here to give me some impassioned speech about our three-way relationship in response to my voicemail, and I don’t think I can take it. I stand to ask him to leave, but then look at him properly.

His broad shoulders are slumped in defeat and his dark eyes are bloodshot, purple half-moons sagging beneath them. My heart clenches at the sight of him looking so broken.

I swallow the urge to take him into my arms to comfort him and force a tight smile.

“DJ, come on in,” I say, gesturing to the seat across from my desk. “It looks like you’re here in a professional capacity…right? Not to talk more about…well, us?”

He sighs heavily and drags himself over, sinking down into the cushions. “To be honest, I was hoping we could do both.” He catches my wary expression and sighs again. “But I know it’s not right to push you right now. I can respect that boundary. I just don’t know who else to go to…is it okay if we just talk?”

I nod, grabbing my notepad and pen. “So,” I begin gently. “Tell me what’s going on.”

DJ rakes a hand through his perfectly tousled hair. “I really fucked up, Syd. At practice today...there was a fight. Marcus and Nikolai were going at it, I tried to break it up but...”

He shakes his head.

“I don’t know what happened. One minute I was pulling them apart, the next I was swinging at Marcus myself. Took three guys to pull me off him.” His voice cracks. “I’ve never lost control like that before.”

My hand itches to reach out and soothe him, to smooth the anguish from his chiseled features. I grip my pen tighter instead. “These things happen sometimes in high-stress situations. Hockey is an intense, physical sport. Emotions can boil over.”

“But I’m supposed to be a leader,” DJ says bitterly. “Not flying off the handle and brawling with my own teammate. And I’m always going off about the toxic masculinity in hockey and how dumb it is. God, I’m so ashamed of myself right now. I’m such a fucking hypocrite.”

“Let’s unpack that,” I suggest. “What emotions were you feeling leading up to the fight? Before you intervened?”

He thinks for a moment. “Anger. Frustration. My damn kn—well, I—I haven’t been playing my best.” He trails off, looking chagrined. “Sorry, you know what? You don’t need to hear about my problems. I should go.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” I assure him before he starts to rise. “And it sounds like you’ve got a lot on your plate. You’re human, DJ. Cut yourself some slack.” I soften my voice. “Beating yourself up won’t change what happened. The important thing is that you learn from this and do better next time.”

I could learn from my own advice here. The irony nearly kills me. Every piece of me is aching to take DJ into my arms, to burst right through those professional boundaries I insisted on building back up. But somehow, I hold back.

“You’re right, Doc,” he says heavily. “I will. I gotta make this right with the team somehow...”

I watch the play of emotions across his ridiculously handsome face, the yearning to lean across the table and kiss him rising up strong and intense.

“One step at a time,” I advise, focusing very hard on his eyes and shutting down my thoughts. “For now, let’s explore some strategies for managing your stress in healthy ways.”

“There’s something else,” he interrupts, his eyes not meeting mine.

DJ shifts uncomfortably on the couch, his dark eyes darting away from mine. “I...uh, my knee has been killing me lately. I think you know that.” His words come out rush, like he’s embarrassed to admit any weakness.

My heart squeezes at his vulnerability. DJ never talks about his injuries. This is huge.

“Your knee?” I try to keep my tone gentle and non-judgmental.

He nods tightly. “Yeah. I had a major injury in college, it wiped me out a whole semester. I thought it was totally healed but… It’s been aching more and more the last few weeks. Especially after games and hard practices.”

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