Page 89 of Zero Pucks

She snapped back. “Boyfriend?”

“Yeah. You met him the other day. Cute as fu—uh—fudge guy you thought was my stalker?”

From this close, I could see her jaw tick. “That was real?”

“I don’t joke about guys like him, Sharon. Trust me. Anyway, I should get out of my skates. He and I are having dinner before the guys get in to take over the ice.” Before she could say anything else, I clapped my hands. “Fist bumps, everyone!”

A handful of tiny fists knocked against mine, and then I hurried back into the locker room, switching into my pre-practice sweats and walking feet. I couldn’t wait to get my legs off, but I was grateful for them now. I wanted to stand and pin Amedeo to a wall somewhere and kiss the absolute fuck out of him.

I could still smell him on my skin. If I closed my eyes long enough, I could feel the echo of what it had been like to be buried deep inside him. I wanted more.

Just as I pulled my T-shirt over my head, my phone buzzed, and I held it an inch away from my face to read the text that said one word:Here.

Anticipation began to fizz under my skin like fresh ginger ale, and I grabbed my walking cane to take some of the pressure off my limbs as I hurried past the moms still talking to Jonah and hit the doors. The evening air still had a hint of crisp early spring to it, and I breathed in as I scanned the curb for Amedeo’s car.

It was where he’d picked me up the first time, and I limped over and quickly got in before he could get out and make conversation with any of the nosy moms who might have followed me out.

“Hello,” I said, breathless, leaning in for a kiss.

He didn’t make me wait. He tasted like mint and smelled like a fresh shower. No, he smelled like my fresh shower. Like the bottle of soap on the rack with big letters spelling out TUCKER so Boden didn’t use it all.

“You should have waited for me,” I murmured against his lips.

“Hmm?”

I pressed my palm to his chest and dragged it downward. “To wash us off.”

He sucked in a sharp breath, and his swallow caught in the back of his throat with an audible click. “I thought about it, but I didn’t want to be gross.”

“I practically live in a locker room full of cheese-dick jockstrap dudes. Trust me, it would be the least gross part of my day.”

He burst into laughter, shaking his head before stealing a last kiss. “Fair enough. Next time, I’ll wait.”

I fucking loved that there was going to be a next time.

“Where to? And is anyone meeting us?”

“Yeah. Actually, if you want to park, we can walk over, and then you can stay and watch practice. Uh…if it won’t be too boring.”

He took my hand and squeezed it. “I want to learn the game so I know what I’m doing when I cheer you on. I’m pretty sure I was yelling in excitement when you got in trouble the other night.”

I grinned. God, I liked him so much. I kept his hand as he pulled into a parking spot near the edge of the lot, and then I waited for him at the front of his car while he got out. Our fingers slipped together again, and normally where I’d take out my white cane, I leaned against him instead.

“Don’t let me fall into a hole. Or traffic. Or walk into a tree. My vision really sucks when it starts to get dark.”

“I’ve got you,” he said. And I knew he did.

We made our way to the deli that had changed their hours to accommodate us during practice nights, and I could see shadowy figures set against the bright light in the window. There would be at least Boden and Ford, along with Cooper and probably Mike and Shea. I hadn’t had a lot of time with the guys since Amedeo had come into town, and I felt a moment of sudden panic.

I had to explain this to them. All of this. They all knew about my wild-as-fuck night in Vegas and my alcohol-induced amnesia. And the hotel room business.

But only Ford and Boden knew the details.

“Tucker?”

I turned to face Amedeo. “Hey, so…what do you want to tell everyone? You know, about us?”

“Uh?”

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