Page 47 of The Pucking Player

I watch, fascinated, as Jessica seems to wrestle with her response. “I...I’m pretty swamped today, Finn. Maybe another time.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Finn’s smile is unwavering. He nods at me, then continues down the hallway, his swagger back in full force.

I raise an eyebrow at Jessica, who shoots me a warning glare. “Not. A. Word.”

I hold up my hands in surrender but can’t help the grin spreading across my face. Jessica rolls her eyes and walks away, but not before I catch the hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

Well, well. Looks like Finn’s finally making his move. Those wide circles are definitely tightening.

Jessica Novak is indeed a force to be reckoned with, and I’m damn glad she’s on my side. Well, mostly on my side. As long as I don’t screw things up with her sister.

And maybe, just maybe, Finn’s got a shot at his own Novak. If he can survive Coach’s wrath, that is.

No pressure, right?

18

THIN ICE

LIAM

Istand at my locker in the Defenders’ room, methodically lacing up my skates. The familiar buzz of pre-game energy fills the air, along with the sharp scent of athletic tape and sweat. Around me, my teammates are gearing up, their chatter a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation.

Nate, adjusting his goalie pads next to me, flashes his trademark grin. “Hey, O’Connor,” he calls out, “you think you can get a few past the Titans’ goalie tonight? I hear he’s been on fire lately.”

I roll my eyes but can’t help the smirk tugging at my lips. “Don’t worry, Russo. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve. The Titans won’t know what hit them.”

From across the room, Adam’s voice chimes in, “Just make sure you keep an eye on their top line. Strafer has been racking up points like crazy.”

Finn, who’s just managed to pull on his jersey, pipes up, “Speaking of crazy, anyone else notice how our captain here keeps sneaking glances at his phone? Expecting a good luck text from a certain pre-med student?”

The room erupts in a chorus of “oohs” and whistles. I feel my face heating up, but I keep my cool. “Better mind your business and focus on the game, O’Reilly,” I snap, but it’s too late.

“Oh, you’re focused alright,” Nate chimes in, a shit-eating grin splitting his face. “On Coach’s baby girl. I’m surprised he hasn’t made meat loaf out of you yet. O’Reilly can learn from the master and finally make his move.”

I’m about to retort when Dmitri, ever the voice of reason, speaks up, “Ah, but let us not forget, love is a powerful motivator. Our captain will play even better tonight, no?”

“Yeah, or he’ll be too distracted thinking about Sophie’s...anatomy skills,” Logan adds with a wink, causing another round of laughter.

Just as the teasing reaches its peak, the door swings open. Coach Novak walks in, and the room falls dead silent. You could hear a pin drop as we all freeze, wondering how much he overheard.

Eyes like slits, his deadly gaze is glued to me.

“Alright, gentlemen,” he finally says, his voice booming, “you know the plan. Let’s go out there and show those Titans what the Defenders are made of!”

A chorus of “yes, Coach” and stick taps fills the room. As we file out onto the ice of Madison Square Garden, the roar of the crowd hits me like a physical force. I catch Nate’s eye, and he gives me a small, apologetic shrug, though I can see the mirth still dancing in his eyes.

The arena is a sea of blue and white, with fans packed to the rafters, their cheers echoing off the walls. The energy is electric, and my heart starts pounding in sync with the rhythmic chants of “De-fen-ders! De-fen-ders!”

I take a deep breath, letting the cool air of the rink fill my lungs as I skate a warm-up lap. As I glide across the ice, Iclose my eyes for a moment, allowing my energy to flow from my core, down through my legs, and into the ice beneath my skates, grounding me. Each stroke further clears my mind of any thoughts or distractions.

Opening my eyes, I scan the crowd. But I don’t see her.

The referee skates to center ice, puck in hand. The crowd’s cheers get louder as he prepares to drop it. I lock eyes with Adam, giving him a quick nod of encouragement. The Titans players are coiled and ready across from us, looking like they’re about to pounce on a juicy steak.

The puck drops, and in an instant, the game begins. The crowd’s roar fades into the background, replaced by the scrape of skates on ice and the clack of sticks. The puck flies toward me on a perfect pass from Adam. Chemistry like ours doesn’t come easy—three years of playing on the same line means he can find me blindfolded. There’s something poetic about us working this well together. At least until he figures out what really went down at the B&B with his sister. Then I might need to start wearing extra padding during practice.

I snag the puck, ready to drive toward the net, when movement in the stands catches my eye. Sophie’s there, sandwiched between Jessica and her roommate. Even from here I can see she’s wearing my jersey, the sight hitting me hard.

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