Page 66 of Zero Pucks

“But not now?”

Tucker sighed. “Grapevine rumors say he got a promotion working for the DA. I don’t know what that pays, but it was enough for a big-ass rock on her finger and for her to want to finally say I do.”

Biting my lip, I tried to think of something to say—anything at all—but I was coming up blank. I settled on, “I’m sorry.”

He snorted and tugged me back down against him, squeezing me tight. “Don’t be. It showed me who I was willing to marry—and at the time, I probably would have been fine with it. I was a complete shithead back then. You would have hated me.”

It was hard to imagine hating him at all. But maybe he was right.

“I met my little family here. Bodie and Ford are basically my brothers. They’re more my brothers than Killian has ever been.” He fell quiet for a moment, then huffed a laugh. “It’s funny how people talk about daddy issues and mommy issues—like people who get all fucked-up for having shit parents. But no one ever talks about the ache it leaves in your chest when your sibling—a person who was in the damn trenches with you growing up—turns out to be a totalturd.”

I burst into laughter, my body shaking with it. “I’m sorry I can’t relate, but I can empathize.” I hid my chuckles behind a kiss to his neck, and he hummed with delight.

“Your siblings don’t suck?”

“I have one sister, and she’s probably my best friend. And yes, I’m aware that makes me a pathetic loser.”

The moment sobered, and I felt his body tense all over. Pulling back, I saw his stormy face, eyes narrowed. “I really hate when you say that about yourself. Do you really believe it?”

Heaving a sigh, I dropped my head back down as he stroked a touch along my spine. “I guess it depends on your definition of total loser. My sister’s my best friend. I stayed in a relationship with an ab-abusive man”—I stumbled over the word, still not used to saying it like that—“for way too long just because…well, I don’t know why. Because I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not. I don’t know your ex, but I bet I know people like him. I bet he’s very, very good at making you want to stay the moment he drives you to the point that you’re ready to leave.” He fell quiet for a moment. “I don’t remember a lot of how we met, but I remember you looked so sad.”

I had been. God, that had been a terrible day. “He’d been unkind to me all week when he learned I was being sent to Vegas for work. He was passive-aggressive and kept accusing me of cheating on him, which was ironic since he’d been cheating for years.” I tasted bile in the back of my throat. “He had me in tears more than once that day, telling me what a sorry sack of shit I was.”

“I hope he never shows his face here. I will rearrange it.”

I squeezed Tucker tightly. “Not necessary. He’s not worth it.”

“I bet it would feel good though,” he said, shaking me gently.

I didn’t want to admit he was right, but I didn’t want to lie and say he was wrong, so I kept my mouth shut instead, and he laughed until we both started to doze.

* * *

Tucker was gone when I woke up. I felt a surge of panic, like maybe this was some kind of payback for what I’d done in Vegas. But rolling over, I spied a note scribbled on the back of a receipt sitting against the alarm clock.

Deo, sorry I had to run. I had an early morning doctor’s appointment, then a private lesson, but I’ll be at the rink all day if you want to stop by. Text me. -Tuck

My heart swelled in my chest. It was impossible not to compare this to Bryce, though this was not an official relationship. But Tucker had already done so much more to take care of me than my ex ever had. It made me want to cry.

I showered instead, washing the scent of Tucker off me and feeling a small pulse of regret that we’d slept instead of fooling around more. But I’d been wiped out, and I could tell that Tucker was wrecked from the game and then from spilling his emotional guts all over me.

The shower was invigorating, though the unfamiliarity of the place was a stark reminder that I wasn’t home—and that I didn’t know what home was supposed to look like now. I had to deal with the apartment bullshit since Bryce was refusing to leave, and Alessia only had so much sway.

As though my thought conjured her, my phone began to buzz with her name on the screen. “Hey.”

“You sound rough. Are you sick?”

I hadn’t realized my voice was so hoarse, and I didn’t want to tell her it was from deep-throating my pseudo-husband’s dick. “No. Just…tired.”

She hummed like she didn’t believe me. “If you say so. Did you get the wedding thing sorted out?”

I sank to the floor next to my suitcase. The top zippered pocket held the documents from Vegas, and I pulled them out, staring at our names on the license.

Tucker Banks, Amedeo de Luca.

But what if it was Tucker de Luca? Or Amedeo Banks?

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