Page 132 of Dirty Pucker

My gaze catches on Ingrid, wearing my jersey as she stands up and cheers for me.

I wave at her. She blows me a kiss. My heart skids in my chest and I’m grinning like an idiot.

Dakota, who’s next to Ingrid, makes a joking grossed-out face. My mom, who’s next to Dakota, frowns at her and says something, probably telling her off for making fun of Ingrid and me.

Dakota pulls her lips into her mouth, a sheepish look on her face.

Ingrid blows me another kiss. I wink at her.

There’s my girlfriend, wearing my jersey, cheering for me.

I think about the surprise gift she gave me. I’m still blown away at how thoughtful that was. She went out of her way to find my favorite childhood toy and surprise me with it.

She didn’t have to go through all that trouble. But she did. Because that’s how much she cares about me. That’s how much she loves me.

My heart pounds and it’s not just from the post-game adrenaline.

It’s because the woman I love is here, cheering me on.

We line up to tell the Devils team and coaches good game, then head to the locker room. We’re in the middle of stripping off our pads and gear when Coach walks into the center of the room. We all go quiet.

“Gentlemen, what a game,” he hollers. We all cheer and yell.

“One more win and we advance to round two of the playoffs.” He rests his hands on his hips, falling quiet as his gaze turns focused. “Three wins in a row is incredible, especially during playoffs. But it’s also rough. You guys played your hearts out these past three games, and I’m proud of you. But playing thathard for three games in a row takes a toll. It’s hell on your bodies. It’s hell on you mentally.”

We all nod along.

“I don’t say that to discourage you. I say that to remind you of the reality of the situation. And the reality is this: you’re feeling amazing after winning tonight, but in two days when we play game four, you’re gonna feel tired as hell. The soreness from three hard-fought games is gonna settle into your muscles and bones. And we’ll be playing in LA, not here. We won’t have our fans cheering us on. We’ll be on their ice, getting trashed by their fans. It’s going to be a tough fight.”

He pauses and looks around. We’re all quietly staring at him expectantly.

“But you know what? I’m glad that we’ll be going up against all that. I don’t want an easy win. I don’t want it handed to us. And I don’t think you do either. If we can beat LA on their ice, the win will be that much sweeter. Let’s fucking do it, gentlemen.”

I slap my hands on my legs and yell, amped up to hear Coach curse. He hardly ever does.

Every guy on the team reacts with the same energy. We’re on our feet, smacking each other, hollering, amping each other up.

“Enjoy yourselves tonight, gentlemen. Have fun, but stay out of trouble,” Coach hollers before he walks out of the room.

My phone buzzes with a text from my mom.

Mom: Congrats on the win, honey! I’m so proud of you.

Me: Thanks. Are you headed home?

Mom: Yeah, I’m exhausted from cheering on my superstar son :)

I smile at my screen.

Me: Is Dakota giving you a ride?

Mom: No, I drove here myself. She’s already on her way to her place. She’s got a teacher meeting early in the morning before school starts.

Mom: Have fun celebrating with your teammates!

Me: Drive safely. And text me when you get home.

Mom: I will, honey. Love you!

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