Page 35 of Zero Pucks

“Broken or bleeding.” I walked over and sat opposite him. “Don’t let the adorable French Canadian accent fool you. He’s a total asshole.”

Amedeo pinked. “I thought he was nice.”

“He’d better be real fuckin’ good to you,” I said. “All the guys are on warning.”

He let out a nervous laugh, which was, of course, also adorable. “That’s…sweet of you. Why are you being so nice?”

“As opposed to what?”

He shrugged. “I figured you’d be pissed off that I got you drunk and married you.”

Both my brews flew up. “Isthat what happened?”

“Well…I mean.” He stopped and bit his lip. “I think the shots were both of our ideas, but I was the one going through something.” He trailed off with another shrug.

“I think it’s safe to say we both fucked up that night. And can I just say again I’m really, really sorry for messing up your relationship.”

At that, he winced and looked down at his lap. Shit, that was a tender nerve. “No. You didn’t ruin anything. I’m the one who cheated.”

I should dislike him immediately. I had absolutely no tolerance for cheaters. But something told me if anyone deserved it, it was Amedeo’s ex. His voice shook whenever he talked about him, like he was afraid. It made me want to rip the guy’s dick off and show it to him.

“I’d had a really bad day, and he wasn’t being very kind while I was on that trip,” Amedeo said, his voice barely audible. I moved a cushion over to hear him better, and he didn’t flinch away, which I considered a win. “There’s no excuse for what I did, but I will say that it was over a long time ago. I just feel bad that I didn’t have the courage to end it when I should have.”

I had no idea what to say to that. I’d never really been in a functional relationship before, so I did what I do best. I changed the subject.

“Do you have a nickname?”

He blinked up at me, brows furrowed. “A…nickname?”

“Some of the guys on my team call me Fucker—because it rhymes with Tucker. My hockey nickname is technically Banksie because?—”

“Banks,” he finished for me, wearing a tiny grin. He was starting to relax again. Mission accomplished.

“Yeah. It feels weird to call you Amedeo all the time. I never call anyone by their full name unless I’m really pissed, and I am not angry at you.”

His ears flushed. “Uh, my sister calls me Deo.”

“Deo. I can make that work. Is it cool if I use it?”

He looked startled. “Well. Yes.” His shoulders hunched again. “I’m not used to people asking.”

“Sounds like you know some seriously shitty people. Anyway, did Bodie say anything about dinner?”

Amedeo shook his head. “No. But he did make me taste this sauce he was making, and it was really nice.”

Clapping my hands together, I stood up, then offered him one to feel like I was being a gentleman or some shit. He took it, his grip gentle and delicate. I wanted to kiss him, which no. Absolutely fucking not. That was off the table.

“Come on, we can explore together. And if it sucks, we can go get burritos, and you can blame him instead of me.”

Amedeo laughed softly. “Thanks for tonight. I think I needed this.”

I squeezed his hand gently before letting go. “Don’t tell the guys I said this, but me too. Like you would not believe.”

CHAPTEREIGHT

AMEDEO

This wasthe first real home-cooked meal I’d had in…hell, I couldn’t remember how long. I wasn’t much of a chef, and Bryce rarely did more than pour a bunch of granola over yogurt and pretend to eat it on Instagram for his followers before heading down to the coffee shop or the dumpling place a block from the apartment.

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