Page 33 of Pucking Amazing

“Well, I’ll leave you to, ah, finish primping. Catch you later, Syd.”

With that, Emma slips out of the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind her. I slump back against the vanity, my legs like jelly. Holy shit.

I stare at my reflection, taking in my just-fucked appearance. There’s no denying the truth anymore, at least not to myself.

I want DJ and Tyler. Both of them. Desperately. Every inch of my body is still tingling from their touch, aching for more.

But my work with the team…it wouldn’t be right to get involved with either of them. Would it?

And what about the electricity simmering between DJ and Tyler? The heated looks they kept exchanging, the electric spark when they touched...

There’s definitely something brewing there, something intense and urgent.

What if the real attraction is only between them? I think that would break my still-fragile heart.

I need to just…ignore this. Forever.

Shouldn’t be too difficult, considering that I see them every day at work.

CHAPTER 10

TYLER

I yank open my locker, the metal door clanging against the others. The dank smell of old hockey pads assaults my nose.

My head’s not in this today. All those late-night workouts, the extra time on the ice—I’m putting in the hours to get my game back. But if I’m being honest with myself, it’s also been a damn good distraction from a certain someone.

No, scratch that. Two someones.

Sydney’s dark eyes, beckoning me closer on the dance floor. DJ’s penetrating gaze, undressing me with his eyes as I pressed against the soft curves of Sydney’s body…

The images are all burned into my mind and I can’t shake them loose. I’ve been ducking the two of them for days now, unsure what the hell I even want.

“Yo, Ty!” Slade’s booming voice pulls me out of my daze. “You bringing your A-game today or what, bud?” He chucks a roll of stick tape at me.

I catch it against my chest. “Aye aye, Cap’n.” A weak attempt at a joke.

“Better get your ass in gear,” pipes up Ethan, the rookie. “Or Slade might make you bag skate again!” The guys chuckle.

“In your dreams, rookie.” I force a grin and busy myself taping my stick. Their good-natured ribbing washes over me but I’m still lost in my own world.

The locker room fades away and I’m back under the lights of the dance floor, my body moving against Sydney as DJ stares at me, eyes never leaving mine.

Heat coils in my gut, and I shake my head to clear it.

This is a locker room, for God’s sake, not some porn site fantasy. I need focus—we’ve been winning more games lately, but our playing has still been erratic, like my thoughts bouncing from one memory to another. I tighten the grip on my stick, willing myself to keep my head in the net.

The team is counting on me.

I head to the ice for practice, my body thrumming with energy. All the extra hours I’ve been putting in, working on my technique and mental game—today, it all seems to click into place. As I take my position in the net, a sense of calm washes over me, a quiet confidence I haven’t felt in weeks.

The pucks come flying at me, but I move with fluid grace, my glove hand snagging even the trickiest shots. Sweat drips down my brow but I’m laser-focused, anticipating each shot before it happens.

“Way to go, Ty!” Ethan hollers from defense. “You’re on fire, man!”

My teammates whoop and holler their assent, their sticks tapping against the ice in a rousing chorus of support. The sound sends chills down my spine. This is what I live for, these moments when it all comes together.

I glance over at Coach Daniels. He gives me a rare nod of approval, his usual stony expression softening with pride. Validation courses through me.

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