Page 44 of Puck Block

Not our best moment, but whatever.

Relief replaces the last remnants of anger that I’ve kept a hold of when I have her blood sugar readings right at my fingertips.

She’ll be irate if she knows I have access to the app. She specifically told her parentsandEmory that it was unneeded because she was an adult, but it’s as much for me as it is for her.

Maybe now, I won’t have to stay in her room all night to make sure she’s not going into a diabetic coma and potentially play like shit at my game from lack of sleep.

After scribbling on a torn piece of her notebook paper, and signing itWalker,I place it on her forehead. Then, I walk out her bedroom door and head straight for practice with a little chip on my shoulder.

My skates glide over the ice as smoothly as they always have, but I’m unfocused, exhausted, and every time I look at Emory, all I can think about is how I had my tongue halfway down his sister’s throat the night before.

Whether we were role-playing or not, I’m fucked up over it.

“What is with you?” Ice flies up behind Theo when he skates over to me. He slaps the side of my helmet, and the only thing it does is make my head pound harder.

I try to clear my vision. “Nothing, nothing. I’m good. Swear.”

“Then start fucking defending. It’s the best of seven, and I don’t want to gamble with it. This isn’t practice.”

Practice.

One simple word, and I’m thinking about Taytum again.

I won’t even let myself look into the crowd to see if she’s here, because I’m afraid I’ll lock eyes with her and get a boner on the ice. A boner when you’re wearing a cup is my own version of hell.

“You look like shit,” Emory chimes after skating past to head to his home, also known as the net. “You’re playing like shit too.”

I follow after him and attempt to play it cool in a desperate measure to erase the shame from last night. I’d like to erase the very vivid memory too. “At least I don’t smell like shit,” I quip.

Our teammates laugh before the rest of us skate to meet at the net for an encouragingchat from our captains, who I refer to as Dad One and Dad Two. Coach, who is off on the sidelines with a beet-red face, is Gramps.

Though, he doesn’t know we call him that behind his back.

It’s even funnier now because Aasher is shagging his daughter, so the joke of him being called Gramps is a real zinger in the locker room.

“Alright, who are we?” Theo slaps his stick on the ice.

We follow suit and slap ours at the same time while chanting, “TheWolves!”

“It’s the best of seven, but fuck that. We’re gonna sweep the ice in the first four games and be on our way. Got it?”

We slap our sticks again in agreement.

“It’s 2-1, them. We have one period left to secure the W. So let’s fucking go.”

The sounds of the sticks echo off the ice, and we all break to get into position. Aasher does a lap and gets the crowd fired up, then he and Theo both look up into the stands with their sticks raised for a cheesy salute to their girls.

By reaction, my eyes follow. I immediately land on Taytum, who is planted dead center between them.

She didn’t.Taytum’s sweet smile wakes me right up. Then, she yells, “Yee-haw!” and takesmycowboy hat off her head and tips it in my direction.

I turn around to conceal my grin.

It’s not the reaction I was hoping for. What I need is to be angry with her or, at the very least, for her to be off with some guy so I can stop secretly hoping she’s saving herself for me like she’s a reward for after we win this game.

Because she isn’t mine, and she never will be.

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