Page 3 of Suck My Puck

I nod. “I know.”

Rumors that I’ll be traded because of how I choked during the playoffs have been all over sports news and social media for the past few months. Thankfully, no official talks have happened, at least that’s what my agent tells me. But if I can’t get my shit together, if I can’t start playing well again, I have no doubt I’ll be dropped from the Bashers for a worse contract with a worse team.

My dad’s voice sounds at the back of my mind again.

You’re not good enough. Not even close.

Coach Sadler pats my shoulder. “I’m here to support you. So whatever you need to do to get over this slump, do it. No matter how off-the-wall it is, it’s worth trying.”

“I will.”

I head to the locker room, my anxiety spiking despite how certain my tone was when I spoke to Coach Sadler.

I need to blast through this rut. My entire career is on the line. But I have no idea how to do it.

Chapter 2

Bella

Abooming noise jolts me awake. I groan as I struggle to open my eyes.

The more I wake up, the louder the sound gets.

Damn it. Did I accidentally set my alarm before I fell asleep? I was pretty delirious after the workday from hell…

After a few seconds, I realize that’s not the sound of my phone alarm. It’s music.

I force open my eyes and blink a few times until the sound finally registers.

A heavy metal song bounces against the walls of my bedroom. It’s coming from my neighbor’s apartment.

Anger and annoyance shoot through me.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I mutter into my pillow.

I lean up and pound my fist against the bedroom wall that separates our apartments. I wait a few seconds, but that grating guitar riff continues to wail through our shared wall.

I pound my fist again. “Hey! Turn off your fucking music!”

I yell so loud my ears ring. There’s no way they didn’t hear me.

I wait for ten seconds, and still nothing. Just more heavy metal music.

When I glance at the clock on the nightstand and see that it’s just past nine-thirty, my anger turns into full-on rage.

I got home at five in the morning after working sixteen hours straight and dealing with a flat tire. By the time I showered and fell into bed, it was almost six.

Not even four hours of sleep before I was woken up by some death metal rager happening on the other side of this wall.

I hop out of bed, my adrenaline spiking. Who the hell blasts death metal at barely nine in the morning?

Apparently my neighbor, who I’ve never met. But I haven’t met any of my neighbors since moving in two weeks ago. I’ve been too busy working every waking hour to rebuild the savings my piece-of-shit ex stole from me.

When I think about what Matt did, the rage inside of me amplifies.

I can’t believe I was ever in love with that jerk. That selfish, cocky asshole who let me give him all of my savings so we could buy his uncle’s house together while he cheated on me with every puck bunny in Toronto, leaving me with no money and a broken heart.

Which is why I’m living in my aunt’s luxury apartment just outside of downtown Denver that she usually rents out. She’s letting me stay here for free until I can build my savings back up. Because when I first moved back into my parents’ house in Denver so I could lick my wounds and rebuild my life, it was an utter disaster. The second I moved back home, all they did was lecture me about how I madethe biggest mistake of my life, moving to Toronto a year ago so I could be with Matt while he made his hockey dreams come true.

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