Page 76 of Zero Pucks

“It’s a big deal, right?”

He blew out a puff of air and shrugged. “Professional parahockey has only been around for a few years. I think six,” he said, frowning. “This guy—this former NHL player broke his neck and became quadriplegic, but he wasn’t ready to stop playing. He got into sled hockey, but he realized that it wasn’t enough for him. He wanted the same respect as the NHL. It took a lot of fighting and a lot of cash and calling in favors from retired players, but eventually, it worked. It’s not as much money or acclaim because, well, people suck. But being offered a job as a coach for the NBHL?—”

“The what?”

He laughed. “National Blind Hockey League. It’s a big deal. It’s real money. It’s…well, different than I envisioned my life going when I was nineteen and signing my name on a dotted line. But it feels just as important.”

I felt his words in my chest, the weight of them like the pride and fear were my own. “Tell me how you want me to wish you luck.”

He laughed and shook his head. “You’re so sweet, but I don’t need it. This is enough.” He traced a touch down my arm, linked his fingers with mine, then brought our curled knuckles to his lips and kissed my hand.

I had no idea what to say, so instead, I basked in what I had, not sure if I had the strength to let go.

CHAPTEREIGHTEEN

AMEDEO

The day passedslow and sluggish after dropping Tucker back off at the rink. He gave me a filthy kiss and a dick grab before getting out of the car, then said to be over at his place at seven. I felt directionless and a little unsure of myself, but I went back to the rental, finished changing all my passwords so Bryce had no way of getting my information.

When that was done, I sent a message to my sister, asking her to drive by the apartment and see if she could get a glimpse of where my shitty ex was.

While I didn’t think he’d show up in Turenne, I didn’t trust him not to, and that scared me more than anything. I trusted Tucker and his friends to stand up for me if I needed it—but I really didn’t want to need it. Not to mention, I had no idea what they’d think of me after that.

I was already the weirdo who drunk married their friend. I didn’t want to be the disaster who couldn’t clean up his mess after his ex. It was partly my fault anyway. Bryce had cheated—he’d been cheating—but I was no better when I stooped down to his level.

How did I live with that? I trusted myself to not make choices like that ever again, but did I have a right to ask Tucker for the chance to prove it? We were in some sort of honeymoon fog—which felt too literal, considering the circumstances—but when that wore off and he had time to think about the details, what would he say?

What would he think of me?

The thought made my stomach sour, and I was a bit of a mess when I got his text at six thirty, telling me I could come over. It felt like I was fist-fighting my brain to keep from canceling on him, and my need to see him won, but only just.

And it would be going over there, battered and bruised.

Tucker was waiting for me outside, sitting on the little ramp that led up through the front door. He had his legs off, his thighs stretched out in front of him, his head tilted against the doorframe. His eye locked on me as I approached, and he smiled.

“It’s good to see you.”

“Yeah?”

He made grabby hands at me, so I dropped down beside him. The doorway was not big enough for two grown men—especially one with his meaty hockey ass, so he spread his thighs further and situated me between them.

It felt too good to lean my head back against his chest and have his thick arms wrap around me. I was safe in ways that I’d never felt before, and I wondered if I would ever have this again.

“Deo?”

“Mm?”

“We should burn our marriage license.”

I stiffened all over, hurt rushing through me. It was a mistake. Of course it was a mistake. But it wasn’t one I regretted. And I thought he’d felt the same way. “O-of course. Of course we c-can. I should have brought it. Um. I’m sorry I didn’t think of it b-before, and?—”

“Sweetheart. Hush up.”

My jaw snapped shut with an audible click.

He leaned over my shoulder, his lips brushing my ear. “Relax, okay?”

“I’m not upset. I’m just?—”

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