Page 54 of Zero Pucks

I felt my entire face bloom bright red. “Um…I’ll…pass?” I didn’t know if it was a test, but as much as I liked dick, ogling a locker room full of Tucker’s teammates’ junk wasn’t exactly on my agenda.

Jonah burst into laughter and tugged me into a one-armed hug. “I like you.”

“Thanks?”

Letting me go, he turned and grabbed the door handle, and when it opened, I was nearly overwhelmed with a cacophony of voices. It was loud, intense, and somewhere in the distance, someone was shouting.

Yeah, I wanted no part of that. The door closed behind Jonah, and I hunkered against the wall, hugging myself. The hallway was so silent the faint ringing in my ears sounded like a damn foghorn, and the sound of doors slamming far off made me jump.

Time seemed to both speed up and slow down at the same time, and after a beat, I realized it might be better if I left. Something had clearly gone on in the game—something that affected the team. And I wasn’t a part of that.

I took a breath, then pulled out my phone and began typing a text for Tucker so he wouldn’t think I went out of my way to ditch him.

Me: Hey, loved the game, and you were amazing tonight!

Me: I can tell things are tense so I thought it would be better if…

Tucker’s text came in before I could hit Send on the second one.

Tucker: I’ll be right out. Don’t fucking move.

My breath caught in my chest, trapped by the lump in my throat, and it took real effort to exhale. I could hear my own heart beating in my ears now. Another door slammed, and a second later, there were footsteps.

A door a few paces behind me opened, and I spun, ready to greet Tucker, but it wasn’t him. The man was using a wheelchair, and he had very thick biceps that looked like he could bench-press a car, wide shoulders, wet hair that was dark ginger but probably lightened to something much more copper, and a beard to match.

It was the beard that triggered the memory. This was the guy who’d gotten into a fight with Boden. He had what looked like would turn into a very colorful shiner over his right eye.

He stopped with his hands on his wheels and studied me for a long time.

“Tucker’s guest,” he said.

God, how could he know? Was Tucker talking about me to the opposing team too?

Shit, too much time had passed, and the silence was now awkward. “S-sorry. Sorry. Hi. I’m Amed-deo.” Really? I had to stammer on my own name?

He tilted his head to the side as he continued to regard me, and then he gave a stiff nod and pushed his wheels, gliding past me. And…that was it. He made it to the end of the corridor, opened the door, and he was gone.

“Deo.”

I spun so hard I almost lost my footing, and strong arms caught me, pulling me down to a seat? No. A lap in a wheelchair.

I looked up into Tucker’s face, and he was smiling softly. “Hi.”

“Hello.”

His smile brightened, and he pressed a calloused hand to my jaw, stroking a rough thumb over my skin. “Hello.”

“You said that.”

“No,youdid.”

“I—oh my God, stop,” I said, rolling my eyes. “How are you? The game looked rough.” He had a shadow of a bruise forming just beneath the collar of his shirt, and I pressed two fingers against it. He winced, but he didn’t pull back. “You should let me up. I’m probably heavy on your legs.”

“I’m fine, and you’re not, but you can get up only if you give me a kiss first. I brushed my teeth,” he added, as if somehow that was a concern of mine.

“I didn’t brush mine.”

He hummed softly and tugged, and I went way too easily for my pride. But it felt good to let myself soften, to be held against him, kissed breathless like somehow he’d been waiting for it all day. His tongue was warm, sharp mint flavored, and very demanding. He kissed me like it was his job to make my toes curl and stomach squirm.

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