Page 77 of Good Pucking Luck

Howshefeels about it? Does she care about my feelings at all? “I love him,” I admit, which is probably the dumbest thing I could do—both admitting it and feeling it, if I’m honest.

Her silence says everything I don’t want to hear, but still she says, “I love you, Hayes. I’m not trying to hurt you, but you also thought you loved Malcolm. It’s been…what? Six, seven months since the breakup, and now you’re in love with someone else?”

“Rylan isn’t like Malcolm.” In my heart, Iknowthat.

“And he feels the same about you? This Rylan?”

My stomach twists. Now it’s my silence that’s speaking a thousand words. Rylan likes me. He told me he does, and I feel it when we’re together. But like and love aren’t the same. “Maybe he will. I haven’t told him yet.”

“If he’s smart, he will,” Mom says, and I know she’s trying her best to be supportive, but all I hear is doubt. The worst part is, I can’t decide if it’s really in her voice, or coming from inside me.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Rylan

I’m feeling offtoday. I know part of it is because Hayes didn’t come over last night after hanging out with Donovan and Anthony. He always stays at my place when I’m home, so it just felt weird. When he’d texted to let me know, he’d assured me everything was okay. I’m worried I hurt him by canceling on meeting up with his friends, but then I remind myself that Hayes has been even more insistent than me on no one finding out about us yet. It was only a random, impulsive decision after my parents left that had him wanting me to meet them in the first place. Plus, the end of the season is right around the corner. Once we win the cup—because we are taking that motherfucker home this year—I’ll shout from the rooftops that he’s mine if he’ll let me.

We have a light morning skate before the game tonight, then go over film, before Coach lets us go for what will be a long pregame nap for me.

I head home, warm up one of my prepped meals, then text Hayes while I eat.

Me: Just got home. About to take a nap before I head to the arena for the game tonight.

I really wish he could go. I’d love to see Hayes with a Pierce jersey on, sitting in the stands with my parents. Why does everything have to be so complicated? I hate that by being in the public eye, I have to worry about all these things when dating someone.

Hayes: Good luck.

He didn’t say good pucking luck, something he uses all the time now, if for no other reason than he knows I like it.

Me: I have you…you’re good pucking luck. That’s all I need.

Then, because I’m me, I add a peach and eggplant emoji. I swear, I’m lucky he’s willing to be with me.

I frown when he doesn’t respond right away, but Hayes is a busy guy. He doesn’t always text back immediately, so I finish eating, then go to bed, figuring he’ll message when he can.

When my alarm goes off, I pluck my cell off the nightstand and smile when I see a text from my man.

Hayes: Hockey players are weird.

It’s ridiculous that my chest gets fluttery just reading his message telling me how weird I am, but that’s the effect he has on me.

Me: Wish you could come. We fly out tonight for our last road trip before the playoffs, so I won’t get to see you for a while.

I climb out of bed and take a quick shower, then grab my packed bag and head to the arena. I arrive early because I have an appointment to get a pregame massage.

Before I know it, I’m in my spot on the ice, Volkov at center ice for the puck to drop.

It’s not a good game. Things are off, our communication is shit, but they get a penalty in the third, with a tied game. Volkov scores, bringing us up by one goal. We squeak by with an ugly win and a pissed-off coach, who doesn’t hesitate to tell us that we didn’t win tonight because of our talent, but because of luck. It doesn’t feel like the good kind either.

*

“How’d it gowith Hayes’s friends last night?” Mads asks, sitting next to me on our flight. I’m fucking exhausted and can’t waitto get to Edmonton so I can climb into bed. Most of the team is passed out already, but Mads and I never sleep well on flights.

“I didn’t end up going.”

Mads’s brows pull together. “Why not?”

“Oh, just…wasn’t sure it’s a good idea until the end of the season. When Coach pulled me into his office, he talked to me about keeping my nose to the grindstone, how well I’ve been playing, how the team is counting on me…”

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