Page 44 of Pucking Amazing

My feet pound against the frozen sidewalk, breath rising in visible puffs as I push myself through the neighborhood. The frigid morning air bites at my lungs but I welcome the sting, hoping the cold can numb the chaos churning in my mind.

I can’t escape the memory of DJ’s lips on mine, the heat of his hands gripping my hips, pulling me into him. A lot has happened since we kissed but that moment in the locker room has haunted me continuously. DJ smashed through the careful walls I’ve built around the truth I’ve been running from for years.

I’m into him. DJ. A dude. Like, really fucking into him.

A groan escapes me and it has nothing to do with the stitch in my side. I’ve gotten so good at pushing those desires down, locking them away. Pretending to be the cocky straight bro, fooling everyone—hell, even myself most days.

But that kiss...fuck.

It changed everything.

I think about how Sydney looked at me yesterday when I finally shared my truth with someone out loud.

Her face, always so open and honest, held no judgment. Only warmth and understanding.

“You owe it to yourself to see where it leads.”

I reach my building and slump against the brick wall by the door, gasping to catch my breath.

Holy shit. Am I actually going to do this? Risk alienating my family, endure vicious press scrutiny, upend my entire fucking identity...to explore things with DJ?

My mind conjures an image of him. Strong jaw, full lips quirked in that cocky smirk that never fails to piss me off and turn me on. Broad shoulders, muscular arms, and big, rough hands I’ve secretly imagined on my body for years.

Yeah. Years. The thought strengthens my resolve—I’m doing this. This has been a long time coming. No more running.

Feeling ten pounds lighter, I haul myself upright and head inside, mind spinning as I think through my next steps.

First things first—it’s game day.

The arena thrums with palpable energy as I skate out to take my place between the pipes. Thousands of eyes bore into me but I block them out, my world narrowing to the puck and the players before me. I’m clearheaded, focused.

Ready.

The whistle blows and the game begins in a flurry of motion. I move on pure instinct, my body an extension of my will as I deflect shot after shot. Stick, blocker, glove—each save is met with a deafening roar from the crowd.

“Let’s go Simmonds!” they chant, their voices filling me with a heady surge of adrenaline.

I feel untouchable, invincible, like a goddamn superhero in my pads and mask.

The clock ticks down, seconds stretching into eternity. One more shot, one more save. The buzzer sounds, and the arena erupts.

3-0, a flawless shutout.

Gloves and sticks rain down around me as my teammates mob the crease, their shouts of elation blending with the crowd’s. Strong arms wrap around me from all sides and I’m swallowed up in a sea of sweaty jerseys and fist bumps.

In this moment, I’m on top of the world. The doubts and insecurities that plague me off the ice melt away, replaced by an unshakable confidence. With my team at my back, I can face anything.

Something deep in me clicks into place, and I know I’m finally ready to talk to DJ. Tonight.

The team is packed into our favorite pizza joint, the smell of pepperoni and victory hanging heavy in the air. Laughter and loud voices reverberate off the scuffed wooden tables as the guys relive the game’s biggest moments, riding high on our win.

“Simmonds, those saves in the third were fucking clutch!” Matthews grins, lifting his beer towards me.

I flash him a smile and nod in thanks, but my eyes are tracking DJ across the table as he chats animatedly with Cooper. His easy laughter draws me in like a magnet.

I can barely focus on the banter flying around me.

And then our gazes lock and everything else fades to the background entirely. That familiar current of electricity sparks to life between us, unspoken but undeniable.

---