Page 90 of Pucking Amazing

I finally find DJ limping across the parking lot, favoring his right knee as he hauls his hockey bag toward his Mustang. Worry shoots through me at the sight.

“DJ, wait up!” I call out, jogging over to him. He turns, his dark eyes wary as I approach. Up close, I can see the exhaustion etched on his chiseled face. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

He sighs, dropping his bag with a thud. “Look, it’s not a great time, okay?” His voice is weary, defensive. “It’s been a really long day.”

I frown, not wanting to let him go in this state. “It’s just I...noticed you were skating differently at practice today. Like you were in pain.” I search his face, trying to gauge his reaction. “Is your knee bothering you?”

DJ stiffens, his jaw tightening. “You spying on me or something? Did the coaches put you up to this?” His words come out sharp, accusatory.

“What? No, of course not!” I protest, taken aback by his hostile tone. “I’m just worried about you, that’s all. If you’re injured, you need to get it checked out before it gets worse.”

Why is he being so prickly?

“I can handle it,” he snaps coldly. “I don’t need some shrink babysitting me or telling me what to do. Just stay out of my business, alright?” He savagely throws his bag into his car and moves to get inside.

Tears spring to my eyes at his harsh dismissal. This was a mistake. He doesn’t trust me, doesn’t want my help.

“Fine,” I choke out. “Excuse me for giving a damn.”

Before he can respond, I spin on my heel and make a beeline for my car. DJ calls after me but I don’t look back, blinking furiously to hold back the flood threatening to spill over.

I yank open the door and peel out of the parking space, not daring to glance in the rearview mirror as I speed away. Hot tears stream down my face.

Tyler’s avoiding my calls, and now this… Suddenly, the joy of last week feels very out of reach.

CHAPTER 31

TYLER

Sweat drips down my face as I launch myself across the ice, my muscles burning with each explosive movement. The sound of my blades carving across the frozen surface echoes through the empty arena.

Just me, the goal, and the puck.

“Looking sharp, Ty!” Marcus calls out as he sends another puck my way. Okay, and Marcus.

I snap my glove out to snag it midair. “One more!” I shout, tossing it back.

He shoots again and I slide into a split, deflecting it wide. The searing pain in my groin tells me I’m pushing it too far, but I ignore it.

I have to be better. Faster. Unbeatable.

“Dude, it’s getting late,” Marcus says, skating over. “We should call it a night.”

I shake my head, pulling myself up. “Nah, you go ahead. I’m gonna run a few more drills.”

He frowns, his brow creasing with concern. “You sure, man? You’ve been at it for hours already. Don’t want to over-train and injure yourself.”

“I’m good,” I insist, even as my legs tremble beneath me. “Seriously, I’ll catch up with you later.”

Marcus hesitates, but finally nods. “Alright, well, get some rest tonight, yeah? See you at morning skate.”

He heads off the ice, leaving me alone in the cavernous space. I retrieve more pucks and set them up, running the drills again.

And again.

Each time pushing harder, desperate to prove to myself that I have what it takes. That I won’t let the team down when it matters most.

But even as I make save after sprawling save, the doubt lingers like a shadow in the back of my mind. You’re an imposter, it whispers. You’ll never be as good as Steven. You’ll choke when your team needs you and cost them everything.

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