Page 122 of My Pucking Crush

“It’s not a...girlfriend.” Heat soars through my body. “It’s a...boyfriend. Sort of.”

Jesus, I admitted it. I saidI have a boyfriend. Luca feels more than just a boyfriend if I’m being honest. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

“Now I’m ready to pass out.” The woman shoves her dainty hands up in the air as the three men spin around to face her. “Did I say that out loud?”

“Yes, you did, baby.” Ash laughs at her and cuddles her head.

“Boyfriend, huh?” The tall guy crosses his arms over a massive chest, but softens his eyes on me now.

I’m one of them.

There is a place for me in this world. It’s so hard to remember what acceptance looks like when you mix professional sports into your life cocktail. Playing hockey is my whole world, my echo-chamber.

“Don’t worry. Maverick and I can handle a dude.” Tall guy makes a clicking sound with his teeth and the dog snaps up.

Funny, I thought Maverick was the angry dad. Cool name for an attack dog.

Attack. Dog. Luca.

Hell no.

“Wait. I don’t want to throw him out.” I block the door. “I fucked up. Bad.”

“He locked you out of your house without clothes.” The dad still looks angry. “I’d say you fucked up. Who is the guy?”

I bite my lip, realizing saying I have a boyfriend isn’t the headline. It’s that I have the Russian mob after me. And myboyfriendused to kill for them.

Yeah... Not telling them that.

“My, um...bodyguard.”

“You’re six-foot-four and play hockey,” the woman says high-pitched. “Why do you need a bodyguard?”

“That’sa long story.” One I’m not divulging. I’ll go to another house first and start over. Heck, a bachelorette party won’t be so bad after all.

“So, what do you want us to do?” Tall guy barks, clearly losing his patience with me.

All of Luca’s hurtful words ring in my ears again. But he was so right. I should have snapped at Cory. You don’t have to be black to punch a guy who’s racist. You can have principals and be decent, inclusive, and accepting without an agenda. Without skin in the game.

In this case, a dog in the fight.

Sticking up for Oliver was the right thing to do and I failed. Failed himandLuca. The only man I really give a damn about.

I glance out at these guys again. They don’t look ashamed for the life they’re living, and it’s a breath of fresh air. Ash is a star pediatric surgeon. The other two are wearing expensive suits, suggesting they’re successful too.

“Well?” Ash prompts me for a response.

“Start. Talking,” the dad says through clenched teeth.

I have no idea what the hell I’m doing, but Ash and his tall boy toy have figured it out. I have to apologize to Luca. I’m not a guy who says sorry very often. Not even on the ice when I leave a man bloodied and bruised.

Asking for help isn’t a sign of weakness.

Coach Avalon’s words my freshman year in high school sound off in my head.

Help...My throat tight, I ask, “Do any of you guys know how to grovel?”

SIXTY-FIVE

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