Page 83 of The Pucking Player

His threats drive home how thoroughly I’ve fucked this up. Failed Sophie. Failed Coach. Failed everyone.

But at least she’ll be safe.

That’s what I tell myself as I watch him storm out, photos scattered at my feet like broken promises.

That’s what I repeat as Finn and Dmitri exchange worried looks.

Finn lets out a low whistle, bending to pick up one of the scattered photos. “Well, this is a shit show.”

“Teammates told you so,” Dmitri says, examining my split lip. “Many times. ‘Stay away from coach’s daughter,’ they said. ‘Man will kill you,’ they said.”

I wipe blood from my mouth with the back of my hand. “Thanks for the recap, Dima.”

“Don’t be an ass,” Finn cuts in, but he’s fighting a grin. “Though I gotta say, for a guy who’s made a career out of avoiding commitment, you sure picked a complicated way to fall in love.”

“That obvious, huh?” I probe my jaw carefully. Nothing broken, at least.

“Bro, you’ve got it bad.” He smirks. “And look where it got you.”

“Speaking of which,” Finn squats down to gather morephotos, “these are some quality surveillance shots. Like, professional grade. Who made these?” He straightens up, photos in hand. “Whatever’s going on, you know we’ve got your back. Even if you are a dumbass who couldn’t keep it in his pants around the one girl guaranteed to get you murdered.”

“Such supportive teammates,” I mutter, but there’s no heat in it.

“Hey, we tried to warn you.” Finn shrugs. “Remember that time Caleb just looked at Sophie too long during family skate and Coach made him do wall-sits until he cried?”

“A full hour,” Dmitri nods solemnly. “Poor man couldn’t walk for days.”

“And yet here you are,” Finn continues, clapping me on the shoulder, “not just looking, but” he waves one of the more intimate photos, “definitely not wall-sitting.”

I snatch it from his hand. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Little bit,” Finn admits. “Though not as much as I’ll enjoy watching Coach run your ass into the ground at practice.”

“We should start a betting pool,” Dmitri suggests. “How many suicides before the captain pukes?”

“My money’s on twelve,” Finn grins.

“You’re both fired,” I tell them, but I’m fighting a smile despite my split lip. Trust these idiots to find humor in my impending death.

Dmitri squeezes my shoulder. “We should get ready for practice. Coach will be extra mad if we are late.”

“Yeah,” I look around at the scattered photos, evidence of everything I’m about to lose. “Wouldn’t want to make him mad now, would we.”

“Too late for that, my friend.” Finn starts toward the door. “Way, way too late.”

29

ALASKA IS FOR EX-BOYFRIENDS

SOPHIE

The hum of my car engine fills the silence as I turn onto the familiar street. Sunday dinner feels more like a walk of shame tonight. The Victorian house looms ahead, looking exactly like it always has—the intricate trim, the steeply pitched roof, the wraparound porch where I’ve spilled so many secrets to my sister over the years.

Where I gushed about Liam just a few weeks ago. God, what an idiot.

This evening is unusually mild for New York, hints of spring softening the winter’s edges. As I pull into the driveway, I spot Jessica and Mom on the porch swing, wine glasses in hand. Mom’s still in her court clothes, a perfectly tailored suit that fits her tall frame like a glove. She could’ve stepped right off the cover ofForbes Women, except for the way she’s kicked off her heels to curl up on the swing. Next to her, Jessica is her mirror image, all sleek dark waves and sharp green eyes that can cut you down at fifty paces. They look relaxed together, like my world hasn’t just imploded. Like there aren’t photos of Liam and Olivia Carringtonplastered all over social media. Like I haven’t spent the last three days alternating between crying and pretending I don’t care.

You knew better. You knew exactly who he was.

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