Page 87 of First Puck

And Lance looked straight at me and Tommy over Alex’s shoulder, giving us the widest shit-eating grin I ever saw.

He was such a bastard.

It was like he was staking his claim.

Like, it was hard enough lying in the bed next to Alex last night, when I knew he was totally awake because his breathing was different when he was asleep. And that I was lying there with a fucking boner and doing everything I could not to climb into his bed and show him what he was missing by rubbing my cock against the seam of his ass.

And Alex straight up told him? Did they really have the kind of relationship where he just ran off to Lance after we sucked each other off? It was the sexiest fucking thing I’d ever done, and he justtoldLance?

Seriously? After all that?

As soon as I thought about it, a gross feeling pierced through my chest. If Alex did end up liking me, there was no way I was sharing him with someone like Lance. Yeah, Alex said they weren’t together last night, but he could have been lying.

The only time I’d had a threesome, there had been too many arms and legs in too many places, and it was so confusing I nearly left. I wasn’t going there with Lance. Hell, I wasn’t even interested in seeing anyone else’s dick apart from Alex’s

“Owens!” Coach shouted, banging me on the helmet.

The announcer was calling out names and players were already sliding out onto the ice, and I was just standing there, staring.

I wasn’t just fucking it up with Alex, I was fucking up the game. I couldn’t lose focus.

Alex and I had a plan, and I had to stick to that no matter what. I wasn’t letting Alex go to the big leagues without me, and definitely not if Lance followed him.

Alex was meant to support me too, because we were doing it together. Which made it a million times more shit to see Alex gliding out onto the ice with Lance, especially when Lance ran a hand along Alex’s arm before sweeping his fingers over Alex’s glove, giving him a soft smile before they parted on the ice.

***

“We’ll be in touch.” The guy in the suit reached out and shook my hand.

The scouts said their goodbyes as they left the small room, leaving me alone with my agent.

My agent knew everything I’d been through to get to this point. He’d been my main cheerleader apart from Alex. Most of the guys on the team used him, and he had my back.

“I’ll give you a minute,” he said. He placed a hand on my shoulder, giving me the same proud look he gave all the guys under his wing.

I nodded numbly before he left.

It was a special room for meetings like those, but it was just like an office, really. Dull white walls, a plastic table, and cheap gray padded chairs that nervously took my weight as I rocked back on one.

The chair legs squeaked against the wooden flooring, but I didn’t hear it over the ringing in my ears.

Under my hand, glued to the table, was a card I’d been praying to see all my life.

We absolutely slaughtered the other teams to come out on top and make it to the finals. I played like a tank, using the combination of my happiness at getting off with Alex and my pissed off energy to score three goals in the game, and prove to the Wranglers’ scouts I was the one for them.

We had the finals in one week, and then the season would be over.

Coach and some of the team were hanging around outside the room. They’d seen the scouts come and go. Some of the other guys were called into similar rooms, and my agent had left to help them out, too.

I looked down in shock at the white corner peeking out under my thumb.

I didn’t even want to stare too long in case it was a dream and it might vanish at any second.

Because on the front of the card was the big, bold logo of the team I’d been fighting for, a horned skull, and the name of the contact who would arrange my place with the East City Wranglers.

And it was right there, in my hand, the offer of an absolute lifetime.

The door suddenly clicked open, and my gaze shot up.

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