Page 27 of Power Pucking Play

Tommy nods enthusiastically. "Can I see your stick? Is it true you broke three in one game?"

Gio chuckles, crouching down to Tommy's level. "It was actually four, but who's counting? And sure, I'll show you my stick. But only if you promise to be a Blades fan forever, okay?"

Tommy nods again, grinning from ear to ear.

"Come on." Gio gestures. "I'll show you around."

As I watch Gio lead Tommy toward the ice, pointing out different features of the building and cracking jokes, I feel something shift inside me.

This isn't the brash, arrogant player I've been writing about. This is...someone else entirely.

"You getting this?" I mutter to the camera guy, not taking my eyes off the scene.

For the next hour, I watch as Gio gives Tommy the VIP treatment. He introduces him to the team, lets him try on his helmet (which nearly swallows the kid's head), and even lets him take a few shots on goal.

Through it all, Gio is patient, kind, and genuinely engaged. It's like watching a completely different person.

As Tommy leaves, clutching a signed jersey and wearing a grin that could power the whole arena, I catch Gio watching me.

"What?" he asks, a hint of defensiveness in his tone.

I shake my head, still processing what I've seen. "Nothing, I just...I've never seen this side of you before."

He shrugs, but I don't miss the way his eyes soften. "Yeah, well, don't go spreading it around. I've got a reputation to maintain."

As he heads back to the locker room to prep for the game, I'm left standing there, my mind reeling. I came here today hoping to catch Gio being his usual difficult self on camera.

Instead, I've caught a glimpse of something...more. There's a whole other side to Gio De Luca that I've been missing.

And despite my better judgment, I start to wonder what else I might have missed.

Chapter 9

Gio

The roar of the crowd fades to a dull hum as I take my position on the ice. It's game time, and I've got more than just the opposing team to worry about.

Lexi goddamned Brookes is perched rinkside, camera crew in tow, looking like she's ready to document my every move. Great. Just great.

"Eyes on the prize, De Luca," I mutter to myself, trying to focus.

The whistle blows, and we're off. I weave through the opposition, my mind zeroing in on the puck and nothing else. For a blissful few minutes, I forget about nosy reporters and complicated feelings.

Then I catch a glimpse of Lexi out of the corner of my eye, and suddenly, I'm hyper-aware of every move I make. Am I skating weird? Do I look as off-balance as I feel?

"De Luca! Head in the game!" Coach bellows from the bench.

Right. Focus. I've got this.

I manage to intercept a pass, racing down the ice toward the goal. The defenseman coming at me is built like a brick wall, but I've faced worse. I duck around him, winding up for a shot…

And that's when I see it. Tommy, the kid from earlier, jumping up and down in the stands, wearing my jersey and cheering his heart out.

For a split second, I'm distracted. It's enough. The defenseman slams into me, sending me sprawling across the ice.

"Shit," I hiss, scrambling to my feet. Jacob recovers the puck, but he's in trouble. Three opposing players are converging on him quickly.

I don't think. I just move.

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