Page 58 of Good Pucking Luck

I hate seeing him get hit like this, but I’ll worry about that later.

Rylan manages to flick the puck away from the guy and send it straight toward Volkov. He takes off down the ice, and Rylan does the same. I’ve noticed that Stevens seems to stay close to his spot on the blue line more than Rylan does. Rylan seems to be more of a scoring defenseman than Stevens is. I’m not sure if either of them is right or wrong, but I assume they’re doing what they’re supposed to and that each man plays defense a different way.

One of Jersey’s players is heading straight toward Volkov. Right before he takes a hit, Volkov sends the puck flying toward Rylan again. He’s fast as he skates from the left to the right, then pulls back with his stick, the small black disk there one moment and gone the next. It soars right over the left shoulder of the goalie and into the net.

I pump my fists in the air, heart racing, my cheeks hurting from my smile as Rylan and his teammates celebrate his goal. The camera pans to Rylan, getting a shot of him as he skates back to his position. My stomach gets wobbly, my skin buzzing with excitement for him. “Hell yes!”

It’s not until I hear, “Wow. I had no idea you liked hockey so much,” from Anthony behind me that I remember I’m not alone. That I’m yelling at the television, jumping up and down with three other people in the room.

I immediately sober. You can’t judge a book by its cover and all, but I’m pretty sure I don’t look like the world’s biggest hockey fan, and I can’t remember if I ever told them that I only went to that first game because Malcolm liked it.

“Yeah…it’s…new.” Ever since I started banging the guy who just scored. If I were Rylan, I’d make a scoring joke right there.

I try to look like I’m not dying inside as I make my way back to my chair. Why does it suddenly feel like I’m on a mile-longhike through the desert rather than in Donovan’s small living room?

I sit back down, pretending to be completely normal. Nothing to see here.

“We should go to a game sometime,” Eric says. “I’ve been trying to get D to go with me forever.”

“We don’t have to doeverythingtogether,” Donovan replies playfully.

“Yeah, but everything’s more fun with you.” I wait for Eric to snicker, like he’s joking too, but I’m pretty sure the guy is serious. The two of them are definitely close.

“If it’s a sport, Eric likes it. I don’t mind going, though. It’s fun every once in a while,” Donovan adds.

“I’d be down. I like hockey.” Anthony points to me. “And we know Hayes likes it too.”

I’m not sure if I make a face, but when everyone looks my direction, they must see something there, or remember the fact that the only reason we’re all in a room together is because I proposed to Malcolm at a Rebels game. That one choice sent us viral as the known Los Angeles members of the Jilted Exes’ Club.

“It’s probably too late in the season to worry about that,” Donovan says. He’s a peacekeeper. The type of man with a big heart who wants to make everyone feel better.

“Yeah, maybe next year,” Anthony adds, and…I’m a strange mix of emotions. I don’t really know how to feel or why my heart feels so much bigger. Words escape me. I should say something, right? But when I don’t even know what’s going on, it’s difficult to make anything come out.

“And the Rebels score again!” I hear in the background, and the people around me erupt into cheers.

I sit back and allow myself to enjoy the rest of the game.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Rylan

The buzzing beneathmy skin won’t stop. We played an incredible game tonight. I feel like I’m hyped up on too much caffeine, like I need to dosomethingto get all this excited energy out.

“We’re going out tonight to celebrate.” Stevens wraps an arm around me when we get back to the hotel. We’re not flying out until tomorrow. “Not too late because Coach and Volkov will kick our asses, but we deserve a drink or two after the game we played.”

We do. It felt like there was magic in the arena tonight, which is the best feeling to have this far into the season.

My first thought is to tell him hell yeah because honestly, I haven’t been out in a long time. I’m usually a sure thing for going out with the guys, but it’s already late, and if I go out now, then it might be too late to talk to Hayes when I get back. I’m sure to be too exhausted to keep my eyes open after a game and then going out.

Okay, I might be exaggerating. Really, I just don’t want to miss my call with Hayes. I look forward to our talks, especially when I’m on the road. I like seeing his face as he mentions things I did in the game. I like the feeling of knowing he’s watching me.

And clearly, I like to torture myself with this annoying crush I have on him. Every time I see him, I can’t stop myself from wondering if there’s a chance he’ll ever feel the same, and if I’d be good in a relationship, or obsessing about why I want one for the first time in my life.

“Actually, I think I’ll stay in,” I tell Stevens. I feel Mads’s gaze on me. I glance his way, and he grins. I give him the finger.

Stevens frowns. “You always go out with us.”

I cross my arms. “Not always.” I’m sure there has been at least one time in the past that I’ve hung back when the team went out.

---