Page 94 of My Pucking Crush

“You’re the ones who don’t seem to have time for anything. What the fuck do you do all day? Dad, youwork mornings at the golf course, and Mom, you left your teaching job five years ago. You don’t have grandchildren.”

“Doesn’t look like we’ll ever have any.” Max’s father sneers in my direction. “What are you looking at? You got kids?”

“My son died in a car accident,” I say, locking eyes with him.

“Oh no.” His mother sinks back, covering her mouth. “James. Let’s go. Let our boys talk it out.”

“Maxwell.” His father runs a hand through his thinning gray hair. “Just please—”

“You’ll get the money.” When his father turns to steer his mother out, Max barks, “You’re fucking welcome.”

His parents’ steps falter, but Max doesn’t wait for a half-hearted apology. He spins and stalks off.

Any joy from the team’s win is gone from his eyes.

And maybe the sex he promised me, too.

FORTY-SEVEN

Max

I’m seething and holding it together, but my ire slips to the rude sports reporters who love to push our buttons. Athletes and celebs behaving badly get more clicks and comments.

All I see is how Luca’s throat corded when my father asked if he had kids. In fairness to my asshole father, the death of a child is not an answer anyone expects when asking an innocent question. But the prick loses points because I could tell he saw the energy between Luca and me.

And it made him sick.

They had to have seen the way Luca shot onto the ice and lunged for Paloma after he struck me.

I finish up all the postgame events and find Luca waiting for me outside the locker room. My center shifts and it all feels so easy. This heat between us isn’t cooling. This flame won’t die out.

And tonight, I’m pouring gasoline on the fire when I get him into my bed.

FORTY-EIGHT

Max

We sweep Albany in four games. Too bad, they’re nice guys. Gentlemen. Unlike Belova’s brutal dogs trying to decimate Cape May.

“Anything change?” Luca returns to my living room with a bowl of popcorn.

Cape May put up a good fight against Richmond. But they’re holding on for dear life. The series is tied 3-3.

This game determines the next twenty days of my life. Either we take an easy trip to the Jersey Shore and play a worthy team in a beautiful state-of-the-art stadium, or burrow to the depths of hell in Richmond’s shitty excuse for an arena.

And I’ll have to prepare for a war.

“Cape May tied it up, but they’re exhausted.” I know how that feels. Skating on fumes, drained, and emotionally wrecked.

Luca sits in a chair and not next to me on the sofa. Probably because I’m ready to detonate.

“You haven’t said anything...” I lean back and throw my arm on the back of the sofa, facing him. “Any credible threats from Richmond if we play them?”

His eyes narrow on me. “I would tell you. Especially if they’re strategizing in an unsportsmanlike manner.”

“Do you have a spy on their team?”

“No.” He leans forward. “If we got caught...”

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