Page 26 of They All Puck Me

"Maybe," someone else says with a chuckle. "I wouldn't mind being in their shoes. She’s hot as fuck, and knows her hockey."

I can't help but slam the door of my locker shut, loud enough to draw attention.

"You got something to say, Reynolds?" Kyle looks over, eyebrows raised.

"Just wondering if you guys ever talk about anything other than what high school girls talk about in gym class," I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

Kyle shrugs. "Just calling it like we see it. Olivia's hard not to notice."

"She's here doing her job, not here to be the object of your mental spank bank," I shoot back, trying to ignore the twist in my gut.

Another guy snickers. "You sound jealous, Ethan."

Jealous? Me? No way. Except maybe I am. I don’t like the idea of Liam or Noah getting close to Olivia. Not that it’s any of my business.

I finish lacing up and stand, ready to head out to the ice when Noah walks in, looking relaxed as always.

"Hey, man," he greets me casually, not noticing the tension in my stance.

I nod back, my eyes narrowing slightly as I watch him interact with the others. The easy smiles and laughs they share grate on my nerves more than usual today.

Liam enters next, all business as usual. He starts giving orders for practice drills without missing a beat.

"We're focusing on power plays today," Liam announces. "Let's keep it sharp."

As we head out to the rink, I can’t shake the feeling of unease. It’s stupid really—Olivia’s just a reporter. But hearing about her with Liam and Noah stirs something unfamiliar in me.

The ice feels different today. Maybe it’s the tension simmering under my skin, or the way Liam and Noah keep shooting glances Olivia's way, like no one with eyes couldn't notice. Whatever it is, I channel it into my plays, pushing harder, skating faster, hitting with more force. The puck barely leaves my stick before I’m barreling down on the next guy.

"Jesus, Reynolds!" Liam’s voice cuts through the air as I slam into him during a drill. "You trying to kill someone?"

"Just playing the game, this is yoga Makar," I grunt, skating away before he can retort. My shoulder aches from the impact, but I ignore it.

Noah skates up beside me, his usual easygoing grin nowhere in sight. "Ethan, dial it back a notch. We’re supposed to be working together."

"I am," I snap back, firing a pass across the ice that’s just out of reach for our center. Frustration gnaws at me when he misses it. "Maybe you should keep up."

Noah’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to; his glare says it all.

The next drill starts, and I go even harder. Every hit, every pass is an outlet for the storm brewing inside me. But no matter how much I push, it doesn’t seem to be enough to shake off the thoughts of Olivia with Liam or Noah.

We clash again in the corner during a scrimmage, sticks tangling and bodies colliding. "Get your head outta your ass," Liam growls as we break apart.

"You get yours out first," I retort, shoving past him.

Coach Bergman blows his whistle, frustration clear on his face as he skates over. "Enough! This isn’t a damn Fight Club! Play like a team or sit your asses on the bench."

Liam glares at me but says nothing. Noah looks like he wants to say something but holds back.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. The anger hasn’t lessened; if anything, it’s intensified with every second spent clashing with them.

When Noah skates up beside me again during a water break, he leans in close enough so only I can hear him. "What’s your problem today?"

"Nothing," I say through gritted teeth.

"Doesn’t look like nothing," he replies, taking a sip from his water bottle before tossing it aside.

Before I can respond, Liam joins us. "Reynolds, if you’ve got something to prove?—"

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