Page 117 of Pucking Amazing

There’s no escaping it, or them.

Get it together, Nelson, I order myself sternly. DJ and Tyler are just guys. Impossibly hot, charming, amazing guys who you maybe could have loved...

“No,” I say out loud, earning a puzzled look from the receptionist. I kick myself, pasting on a bright smile. “Hi there! I’m Dr. Sydney Nelson, the new addiction counselor? I’m here for orientation.”

The rest of the day passes in a haze of HR paperwork, facility tours, and meeting new colleagues. Everyone is warm and welcoming, passionate about the work in a way that energizes me. I can see myself really thriving here.

But every time I pass a TV or overhear a conversation in the break room, there’s an unwanted jolt of recognition.

“Did you see that pass from Johnston to Armstrong in the second period? Brilliant!”

“Simmonds absolutely stood on his head in the net last night, eh? I think the kid’s finally hitting his stride…”

Each casual comment knocks the breath from my lungs. It’s impossible to escape the reminders of DJ’s wicked eyes and Tyler’s bashful smile. The phantom feeling of their lips on my skin, their hands in my hair...

Will I ever be able to escape them?!

I roll over in bed, blinking against the sunlight streaming through the blinds. Ugh.

Today is the day. The championship game.

Despite my best efforts to avoid anything hockey related, the fact that it’s happening tonight is inescapable, seeping into my consciousness like spilled coffee on a white shirt.

My fingers itch to grab my phone, to call DJ and Tyler and check in on them. See how they’re holding up under the immense pressure. Make sure their heads are in a good place before the big game. But I resist the urge, shoving my hands under my pillow instead.

It’s my day off and I fully intend to spend it in blissful, hockey-free isolation. A pint of indulgent ice cream, a dumb reality show marathon, and my cozy couch are calling my name. The perfect distraction from Stanley Cup madness.

A loud rap on my bedroom door jolts me out of my reverie. Selena pokes her head in, a wide grin splitting her face.

“Rise and shine, sis! We’ve got plans today.” She has a sneaky look in her eye that makes me throw a pillow at her.

I groan and burrow deeper under the covers. “Selena, no. I’m not leaving this apartment. It’s trash TV and ice cream day, remember?”

“Nuh-uh, no way.” She marches over and rips the blanket off me. “It’s a beautiful day and we are not wasting it! Shopping and sisterly bonding await!”

I scowl at her, mourning the loss of my cozy cocoon. “Can’t we bond with some housewives? And mint chocolate chip?” I give her my best puppy dog eyes.

“Not a chance.” She grabs my arm and hauls me upright with surprising strength. “You’ve been moping around for long enough. Time for some retail therapy and vitamin D! Doctor’s orders.”

I grumble but let her pull me to my feet, anyway. Resistance is futile and all that.

My mind flits unwittingly to DJ and Tyler again as I stumble towards the shower. God, I hope they’re ready for tonight. I hope their teammates have their backs and their heads on straight.

I shake my head, dispelling the thoughts.

No. Not going there.

Today is about me.

And apparently, being dragged out into the world against my will by my annoyingly perky twin.

But as I step under the warm spray, I can’t help but smile a little. Selena’s right—moping around isn’t doing me any good. It’ll be nice to get outside, be distracted.

Hours later, I shift irritably in my new dress, turning to complain to Selena about going out after a long day of shopping, but my jaw drops when I realize where our rideshare has taken us.

“You—you tricked me!” I gasp, staring at the arena. “Selena, I can’t be here right now, you know that!

The Stanley Cup finals—how could she spring this on me?

---