Page 90 of Zero Pucks

“I mean, they might not exactly be super fond of the random guy who left me in a hotel room without my legs,” I explained, rubbing the back of my neck.

I could feel tension radiating off him, and I understood why. He already expected people do hate him. Too often, he felt he was unworthy of the most basic human affection. I didn’t want my well-meaning friends to make that worse.

“I didn’t realize Ford and Boden were still—I mean, of-of course they’re not that fond of me after what I did. B-but if you want me to talk to them…”

“No.” I tugged him close to me. “Deo, no. Not them. The other guys. I didn’t know what this was or what it could be, so I didn’t say anything about you to the rest of the team. But when I first got back from Vegas, I kind of, you know, ran my mouth a bit about the organ- and leg-stealing hooker.”

He laughed softly. “I see.”

“Trust me, Ford and Bodie won’t let anyone say shit to you. They’re protective.” I found his hand and squeezed it. “But if the other guys make you uncomfortable, we can leave.”

“I’m not taking you away from your friends, and I did learn enough about sports to know you don’t screw with someone’s routine. Especially in hockey. I can put up with a little passive aggression.”

I blinked, then burst into laughter. “Baby. This is just practice. It’ll be fine if you want to shake things up.” I didn’t tell him that I didn’t give a shit about superstition because I didn’t care about winning the way the others did. “And for the record, I’m not okay with anyone being passive-aggressive to you. I will hurt them if I have to.”

Amedeo took a deep breath, then tugged me toward the curb. “There will be no need for that. Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

He sounded like he was walking toward a firing squad, and I fought the urge to say fuck it and abandon everyone else for the rest of the night to be with just him.

* * *

In the end, it was fine. He got a couple of side-eyes from Cooper, and Mike and Shea were a little cold with him at first, but after Ford threw his arm around Amedeo and said that he was under his protection, they all calmed down.

He was quiet for most of the dinner. He kept close to me and laughed when things were funny and listened whenever someone wanted his attention. But I could tell he was trying to blend into the background. To be a piece of furniture. I didn’t know if that was his ex’s doing or maybe shitty parents.

It was a stark reminder that I still needed so much more time to get to know him. I wanted all those details. I wanted to know his tender spots so I could soothe them. I wanted to see where all his scars were so I could make sure no one ever reopened those wounds.

But we had time for that.

He was going to stay, after all. He was ready and willing to be mine.

We all collectively headed across the street together, Cooper and Shea wheeling around the back while the rest of us walked through the front doors. I tugged on Amedeo’s hand and kissed him, ignoring the wolf whistles and the threats of a fine for showing so much PDA.

I didn’t give a shit. I’d dump whatever I had in my savings in the fine pot if it meant kissing him as much as I wanted.

“Where do I sit?” he asked after I pulled back.

I squinted around, then pointed at the bench where a couple of people were already getting seated.

“WAGs?” he asked.

I grinned and kissed him again. “Mmm. Hearing you use hockey lingo turns me on. And yes. Though actually, the redhead is Cooper’s sister. He’s still fairly new to the team, and she drives him. Her name is Cassidy, and you’ll like her. She’s a middle school math teacher, so she takes zero shit from anyone.”

He hummed, then leaned in for another kiss. “Sounds like a good friend to have. See you after practice.”

It took all my self-control to let him go and make my way back toward the swinging doors. Letting him go felt like I was carving a void into my body, and I hated it. I knew this wouldn’t last forever. Eventually, I’d want my space back. And so would he. But I wanted to bask in this feeling because it was so damn new andsodamn good.

“Banks!”

There were only two people on my team who pronounced my last name with a French lilt, and one of them never, ever called me Banks. I turned and saw a suit-wearing figure walking toward me. After a few steps, I could make out the new coach’s face with a little more clarity.

He looked a little apprehensive as he approached, his hands twisting in front of him. “May I have a word?”

“Go nuts,” I said.

“In private.”

That was never good. Was I being fired? Oh God, was he going to talk to me about Boden? Obviously, I could do nothing except follow him down the corridor and into the coach’s office. He was the only one in there though, which probably meant this wasn’t a big crisis situation.

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