Page 39 of Power Pucking Play

Fuck. Nope, not going there.

Morning skate is a blur of drills and strategy sessions. Coach is in rare form, barking orders like a drill sergeant with a hangover.

"De Luca! Remove your head from your ass, and focus!"

I wince, realizing I've missed the last three passes. Get it together, man. You've got a game to win.

As we're wrapping up, Jacob skates over, concern etched on his face. "You okay, man? You seem...distracted."

I force a laugh. "Me? Nah. Just, you know, visualizing how I'm gonna demolish these Seattle dickheads tonight."

He doesn't look convinced, but mercifully drops it. "Right. Well, just remember: keep your head up and your stick down. As much as I appreciate you having my back, you and I don't need to get into any more brawls."

"Duly noted."

Back at the hotel, I try to nap, but my mind won't settle down.

Where the hell is Lexi anyway? Is she avoiding me? Did I do something wrong?

Did last night mean anything to her, or was it just another angle for her story?

By the time we head back to the arena for the game, I'm a ball of nervous energy. Not exactly an ideal pre-game mindset.

As we file off the bus, I'm still scanning the crowd for any sign of Lexi.

Nothing. Great. Just great.

In the locker room, I go through my usual pre-game routine on autopilot. Tape my stick. Adjust my pads. Try not to think about how soft Lexi's lips were or how perfectly she fit against me.

Dammit.

"All right, boys," Coach bellows, snapping me back to reality. "Let's show these West Coast wankers how real hockey is played!"

We file out onto the ice for warm-ups, and I consider the fact that she's probably just busy.

It's not like we're anything more than interviewer and interviewee....

Right?

It's a thought that's almost easy to believe. And then I see her.

She’s standing rink-side, looking annoyingly sexy-as-hell in jeans and a Blades hoodie. Her golden hair falls in waves over her shoulders, and I remember how it felt tangled in my fingers.

Our eyes meet, and for a second, I forget how to skate.

Then she does something that nearly knocks me on my ass. She holds up a jersey—my jersey—and gives me a little wink.

Holy shit. Lexi Brookes is actually rooting for me.

I must be grinning like an idiot because Jacob skates by, smirking. "You okay there, lover boy? Or do you need a minute alone?"

I shove him playfully. "Shut up and skate, Casanova."

The game itself is a blur of action and adrenaline. But for once, I'm not looking for fights or trying to prove anything. I'm just...playing. And it feels good.

We're up by two in the third period when one of Seattle's goons decides to get chippy. He slams me into the boards, hard enough that I see stars.

For a split second, I'm ready to drop gloves and show him exactly why they call me The Icebreaker. But then I catch sight of Lexi in the stands, my jersey stretched over her Blades hoodie, and something in me shifts.

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