Page 12 of One Pucking Destiny

He runs his hand over my hair. “Well, I’m just saying that it sounds like you and your mom have a really good relationship. I’m sure she’d want you to share your feelings with her if you’re upset. I think you can be happy for her and still discuss your feelings.”

“That’s true. Maybe I will.” I lean back, tilting my face up so I can take him in. “You’re a rarity, you know?”

“How so?”

“Well, you’re generous and kind. Thank you for that gift card, by the way.”

“Of course.”

“You’re a great dancer, phenomenal in bed, a good listener… and I suppose I can’t leave out the fact that you’re hot.”

He smiles wide. “You don’t say?”

I narrow my eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“But… you’re still a no on exchanging numbers?”

“Still a no.”

Holding me tight against him with one arm, he tilts my chin up to face him with his free hand. “We’ll see about that.” Leaning his face toward mine, he kisses me. The kiss, just a peck, holds a promise for the future, and it terrifies me.

Thoughts race through my mind as I wait for Bashto fall asleep. As good as cuddling up to Bash feels, I can’t stay here. My mom didn’t teach me to hate men, but she did teach me to put myself first. I can’t let anyone derail everything I’ve worked for.

He may very well be the right man, but it’s not the right time, so I have to go.

After a few minutes, his breathing slows. I sneak out of his arms, off the bed, and out of the room. I find my clothes still strewn around the floor by the entrance door. As I dress, I’m grateful that Hattie stayed at her boyfriend’s place because this walk of shame would’ve been embarrassing with an audience.

My heart twists as I step outside, and for a moment, I second-guess myself. But I know I’m right. There are millions of beautiful men in the world, but I have one dream. I’m not going to jump into a serious relationship until I’ve accomplished my goals. Sebastian is the type of guy I’d want to settle down with, but I’m nowhere close to being ready. Nonetheless, walking away doesn’t feel good.

CHAPTER

FIVE

BASH

In the final moments of the preseason game against Chicago, our hometown arena is electric with anticipation. I live for this feeling. The fans’ excitement is palpable, creating a tangible buzz in the air. The score is knotted at two-two.

The puck is in my possession. Beckett and Cade are tied up by the opposing defenders, making our planned plays impossible. I pull in a breath, and my skates slide across the ice with calm precision as if on autopilot. The movements are automatic. Every cell in my body wants this win and knows what to do to get it.

I lock eyes with the goalie, taking in his movements, hoping for a tell to gain an opening to the netfor the puck. Sidestepping a lunging defender, I rush forward, lifting my stick. The goalie shifts, anticipating my shot as I slap the puck toward the goal. It rockets through the small space between his legs, hitting the back of the net.

The buzzer sounds, signifying the end of the game, and I smile wide as the crowd erupts with a roar of celebration. Raising my fist, I pump the air as my teammates skate over to celebrate with me. While fleeting, this moment is utter perfection. It fills me with unsaturated joy that will sustain me until the next time. In hockey, there’s always the push for the next time, the next win, the next moment of euphoria. There’s nothing like it.

As a team, we skate around the arena, cheering along with the fans. The thunderous applause is worthy of a championship match more than a single preseason game, but that’s why I love this game and our fans so much. There’s no shortage of heart or passion for the sport.

Cade Richards, one of our starting forwards, claps me on the back. “Fuck yeah, Cookie. Now that’s how you finish the first game of the season.” He smiles as we skate off the ice.

“Thanks,” I say.

The celebratory cheers ring throughout the tunnel that leads to our locker room.

“We are partying tonight!” Jaden, one of our starting defensemen, nudges me with his shoulder.

“Facts!” Max, our other defenseman, collides with my other shoulder. “Barbados style.”

I huff out a laugh. “It’s hard to replicate Barbados in Michigan.”

“Just need a little creativity, my man,” Jaden states.

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