Page 8 of Puck and Run

“This isn’t over,” I tell her and then I walk away. My princess being Ryan’s little sister might make this situation a little more complicated. She obviously didn’t want him to know we knew each other, but that doesn’t mean she won’t be mine. I just have to make a game plan.

I quickly answer questions in the press room and wait for my turn to give one last interview. I feel a hand on my shoulder and turn to see Tuesday, Simon’s wife, standing there. “Hey, can I talk to you for a second?”

I nod, “What’s up?”

“I know about you and Tilly,” she says her sing-song voice letting me know how much she’s enjoying this. “Paisley and I did a good job with her costume, huh.”

“What?”

“Nevermind. I’m texting you her number. Don’t fuck this up,” Tuesday says with a smile.

“I don’t plan on it.”

“You guys never do,” she sighs, “just don’t hurt her, okay.”

“I promise, Tuesday. I’m not going to hurt her.”

Tuesday looks me over and must believe what I’m saying. She pats me on the shoulder and walks off. I feel like I passed some sort of test. My phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out to check the message.

TUESDAY: Here’s her contact information. Go get her, Hammer!

TILLY INFO

Chapter Six

Tilly

I stare at my phone, a soft smile stretching across my face as I read Duke’s latest message. It’s another one of those sweet notes that make my heart flutter —he hopes I’ve had a great day and misses the sound of my voice. It’s the little things. I reply quickly telling him that I miss his smile.

We’ve been texting back and forth for days. The team’s been out of town and we haven’t seen each other since that night in the parking lot. There have been lots of hours of video calls and texts between us though. He got home late last night and doesn’t have a game or practice today. I’ve been waiting to see if he’ll want to see me.

When he asks me to dinner at his house, I hesitate for barely a moment, excitement dancing through my body. The idea of spending time with him, just the two of us, feels both thrilling and terrifying.

The day passes in a blur of lesson plans and pop quizzes, but the anticipation of tonight keeps me floating. I’m nervous, though. What if it doesn’t go well? I shake my head, banishing those thoughts. I grab a light jacket and make my way to my car, trying to focus on the road and not a thousand butterflies flying around my stomach.

As I pull up to his house, I can’t help but admire the warm glow spilling out from the windows. I take a deep breath,trying to steady myself, and knock lightly on the door. It opens immediately, and there he is, in a fitted black T-shirt that hugs his arms just right, a playful grin spreading across his face.

“Hey, beautiful,” he says, stepping aside to let me in. I blush, feeling a rush of warmth at his words.

“Hi!” I reply, trying to sound casual, but my voice comes out a bit breathless.

Delicious smells waft toward me as I enter. “It smells amazing in here!” I say, peering into the kitchen where I can see a pan sizzling on the stove.

“Steak and salad,” he says, his voice full of pride. “And a little surprise for dessert.”

I raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh, What’s that?”

He winks, and my heart skips a beat. “You’ll see.”

We settle into the cozy living room, chatting easily as he pours us each a glass of wine. I can’t but admire how his eyes light up when he talks about hockey —his passion is infectious. I share stories about my students, and how sometimes they surprise me with their brilliance and creativity.

“Teaching high school must be quite the challenge, he says, his tone earnest. “I can barely handle a bunch of guys on the ice.”

“It has its moments,” I reply, taking a sip of the rich red wine. “But honestly, it’s the rewarding moments that make it all worth it. Like when a student finally gets a concept they’ve been struggling with.”

He nods, his expression softening. “I get that. There’s something about knowing you’re helping others that makes you feel like you’re doing something important.”

The conversation flows effortlessly, and soon he disappears into the kitchen to finish dinner. I take the opportunity to look around his living space. It’s warm and inviting, decorated with photographs of his hockey days and some art that suggests a creative side I’m eager to learn more about.

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