Page 24 of Pucking my Enemy Boss

I wave to show I’m fine, even though pain radiates through my body. Grabbing my stick properly, I tell myself I needed thatslam to remind me that my mind should only be on the game while I’m on the ice. I decide to forget Holly and focus on the game.

Just as I start to move, I see a flash of auburn hair at the edge of the rink.

I blink, wondering if my mind is playing tricks on me. Another defender slams into me, and I hit the ice hard again. Coach Andrew whistles loudly.

“Focus, Ethan!” he barks, frustration clear in his voice.

I nod, embarrassed, and glance back to where I saw Holly. My mind’s not playing tricks on me. She’s there, standing beside Lauren.

What is she doing here?

My thoughts spiral, torn between frustration and the undeniable pull I feel towards her.

7

HOLLY

I standon the edge of the practice rink, the cold air biting at my cheeks, but I barely feel it. Lauren is beside me, listing off the names of each player as they glide across the ice, setting up for practice. Her voice is a comforting drone, but my attention is fixed elsewhere. My eyes scan the ice, searching for a familiar face.

There he is, Ethan.

He’s gliding across the ice with effortless grace.

"He's so good," I murmur to Lauren, my voice barely a whisper.

Lauren nods, her eyes following him. "He's one of the best in the league. Really good at this hockey thing."

He’s pretty good at other things, too.

I smile, a warm feeling spreading through me. I had plenty of proof last night.

The coach, dressed in the now familiar blue tracksuit, whistles. He discusses something with the players and sends them out onto the rink to practice. I watch them file out, their movements a synchronized dance.

Ethan seems to be in his element, his every move confident and precise. I can't help but be mesmerized.

He moves across the ice with a grace and power that leaves me breathless. Each stride is smooth, effortless, as if he’s part of the ice itself. I can’t help but gasp, whispering, “He’s so perfect, isn’t he?”

Lauren stops mid-sentence and gives me a curious look. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” I say quickly, feeling a blush creep up my neck. “Just ... he’s really good.”

Lauren laughs. “Yeah, I told you five minutes ago that Ethan’s one of the best.”

As if on cue, the puck is passed to Ethan. He pauses, standing still for a fraction of a second—long enough for a larger player to slam into him, sending him sprawling across the ice.

“Ethan!” I gasp, my hand flying to my mouth.

I glare at her. "He could have been hurt!"

She shrugs. "Hockey is a physical sport. Risk of injury is part of the game."

I know she's right, but it doesn't stop me from worrying. I watch as Ethan gets back up, his face a mask of determination. He's clearly used to getting hit. I heave a sigh as he gets back into the game.

Lauren looks at me funny. “Are you that worried about your housemate?”

I scramble for an excuse. “I just ... I don’t want him to get hurt. He’s, you know, my housemate.”

Lauren chuckles. “Ethan isn’t new to being hit like that. Most of the players are in top physical condition. They can take it.”

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