Page 84 of Pucking Amazing

He used to come criticize my high school hockey games when he was a pro. I’ve spent every year since then chasing his approval, eager to show him that I can be just as good of a player as he was.

“Guess I should be grateful I even made it this far,” I mutter, more to myself than him.

“Damn right you should. It takes a hell of a lot more than just talent.”

I know he’s right, but I resent the way he says it—like I’m the runt of the litter, perpetually destined to fall short. The sting of inadequacy settles in my chest as I force down the rest of my burger.

This night can’t end soon enough. I stare down into my beer, looking for answers I know I won’t find.

All I want to do is go home, crawl into bed, and forget this whole humiliating day.

I trudge down the dimly lit hallway of my apartment building, my muscles aching, shoulders slumped under the weight of defeat. The only sound is the soft scuff of my shoes against the worn carpet. As I round the corner, I stop short.

DJ and Sydney stand outside my door like two gorgeous sentinels, mirrored concern on their faces.

“Hey, Ty,” Sydney says softly, reaching out to touch my arm. “Are you okay?”

I force a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.”

DJ frowns, unconvinced. “Bro, I saw your face after those goals went in. You’re beating yourself up, aren’t you?”

“Nah, it’s all good,” I lie, avoiding his probing gaze.

Sydney pulls me into a hug, enveloping me in her jasmine scent.

“It’s not your fault, Tyler,” she says. “The whole team was off tonight.”

“She’s right,” DJ agrees, wrapping his tattooed arms around us both. “You’re an amazing goalie. A few bad goals doesn’t change that.”

I want to believe them, but the tight knot in my chest won’t unclench. The phantom red goal lights flash behind my eyes.

“I don’t know,” I mutter. “Maybe I’m just not cut out for this.”

“Hey!” DJ grips my shoulders, forcing me to meet his eyes. “That’s bullshit and you know it. You’re Tyler fucking Simmonds. You’re the wall, remember?”

I manage a weak chuckle at our old inside joke. “Some wall I am, letting pucks through like a sieve.”

“Stop that,” Sydney chides gently. “You’re human, Ty. You’re allowed to have off nights.” She cups my cheek, her brown eyes luminous with affection.

I sigh, leaning into her touch despite myself. My body craves their comfort, even as my mind rebels against it.

“I just feel like I let everyone down, you know? The team, the coaches, the fans...” I swallow hard. “You guys.”

“You could never let us down,” DJ says fiercely. He presses a kiss to my temple, his lips lingering.

Sydney nods, rising on tiptoe to brush her mouth against mine. “We’re here for you, always. You’re stuck with us, hotshot. Now…are you going to let us into your place or what?”

“Much as this hallway has its charms,” DJ quips, “it could sure use a bunch more soft furniture for what I have in mind…”

A real smile tugs at my lips, even as exhaustion pulls at my eyelids. “Thanks, guys. I totally would invite you in…next time. I think I just need to crash, try to sleep this off.”

They exchange a worried glance but don’t push any further, each giving me one last squeeze before stepping back.

“Call us if you need anything, okay?” Sydney says. “Even if it’s just to talk.”

“Or not talk, if you know what I mean,” DJ adds with a wink.

I snort. “I’ll keep that in mind. Night, guys.”

---