Page 146 of Dirty Pucker

A chorus of “hell yeah!” echoes around the room.

“We knew that fourth game would be tough. And it was,” Porter says. “But so are you. Every single one of you is tough as hell. And I know you won’t go down without a fight.”

We grunt and holler in agreement.

“We’re on home ice tonight. Those are our fans out there, ready to cheer us on. No one plays like us when we’re at home,” he says, his voice a hair below a shout.

Adrenaline pumps through me. It’s awesome to see Coach Porter this worked up, this passionate. And I know the rest of the guys feel the same way.

We’re all staring at him, hanging on his every word.

“Now go out there, play your hearts out, and fight like hell!”

With Coach’s rallying cry, we’re on our feet, hollering and smacking each other.

We head out of the locker room and through the tunnel toward the ice. Blomdahl moves past me, taking his position at the front of the team like he always does when we go out as a team.

I pat his helmet. “Give ‘em hell tonight, dude,” I say to him.

“Fuck yeah,” he says. His focused gaze stays straight ahead. He’s in the zone, and I can tell he’s gonna be on fire tonight.

Xander bumps my shoulder with his. “You good?” he asks.

I nod.

“Kill it out there, okay? I wanna see Dirty Del make an appearance tonight.”

I chuckle.

Theo smacks my shoulder. “Hell yeah, Dirty Del.”

“You sure? If I get too wild, I’ll get a penalty called on me,” I say, half-joking, half-serious.

“Don’t worry. We got your back,” Theo says. Xander nods.

“Thanks, guys. I know things have been crazy ever since my arrest and all the publicity that followed.” I huff out a breath. “And I know it was probably part of the reason why we lost our last game.”

Xander shakes his head. “No way. Do you know how hard it is to win four games in a row in the playoffs?”

“It’s almost impossible, man,” Theo says. “Don’t sweat it. We’re gonna kick their ass tonight.”

Blomdahl, who’s at the entrance of the tunnel, turns around to me. “They’re right. It wasn’t you. I forgot to lick my stick last game. That’s probably why we lost.”

We all laugh. I’m grateful for the impromptu pep talk my teammates are giving me. And grateful that I can count them as friends now too.

The lights in the arena dim and the entrance music blasts through the speakers.

Grinning, Blomdahl runs his tongue along the bottom of his stick. “Let’s fucking go, boys!” he hollers before hitting the ice. The crowd is on their feet, screaming and cheering on Blomdahl and our other teammates as they skate off.

“That guy’s a psycho. Fuck, I love it.” Xander laughs and heads out. Theo follows him.

Just then I spot Ingrid standing off to the side, filming the action on the ice with her phone for the Bashers’ social media accounts.

My heart races as I stare at the woman I love. The woman who’s stood by my side through all this craziness. The womanwho, five minutes after meeting me, refused to believe I was the asshole everyone said I was.

She saw through all the bullshit, the facade. She saw me for me. All the raw, ugly parts of me. And the most amazing part? She liked what she saw. She likedme.

She loves me. And I love her. So much.

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