Page 50 of Pucking Fate

The house is quiet. Finley’s asleep, oblivious to the turmoil in my heart. I know I should sleep, too, but my mind is running a marathon of doubts and what-ifs. Every time I close my eyes, I see Christian’s face—his eyes pleading with me, his voice cracking just a little when he said, “Fine, I want more, Maya. I want to be with you. I want you to be mine in every damn way.”

I sigh heavily and roll over, squeezing my eyes shut, wishing I didn’t believe him.

20

Christian

After Maya’s date with Spencer last night, which she didn’t seem too excited about, I still feel like the space between us is growing even wider. And I don’t know what the fuck to do.

So, that morning, when I come over and Maya says, “Since you did such a great job last night, would you be up for babysitting this afternoon?” I almost lose my shit.

“Why? You have another date with the fucking bench warmer?” I snap.

Maya rolls her eyes, and warns me, “Watch it with the swear words.”

“Sorry,” I mutter.

“And no, it’s not a date. I have a job interview!”

“Oh wow. Congrats.”

“All thanks to thebench warmer,” she replies.

“Great.”

“It is great. Spencer told me about his aunt who works at a retirement home. Her boss agreed to meet with me about anactivity director position. I sent over my resume an hour ago and she emailed to ask if I could come in for an interview at four today!”

“That’s…wow.” Shit. Maya might get a job here in Bethesda, which means the chances of her and Finley moving to North Carolina are dropping even lower.

“Right? It’s exactly what I had hoped to do.”

“So, if you get the job, you’re definitely staying here?”

“I’ve told you from the beginning that we weren’t moving,” she replies. “So? Can you stay with Finley for a few hours again today?”

“Yeah, I can stay with him. We had fun last night,” I tell her. “Good luck, I guess?”

“Thank you!” she says excitedly before running off. “Now, I have to figure out what to wear!”

Later that afternoon, I’m eating pizza at the table with Finley, who is still, unfortunately wearing his new, signed, Spencer Williams Warhawk’s jersey, feeling like a dick for hoping Maya doesn’t get the job when Finley asks me, “Did you always want to play hockey?”

“Yes,” I answer, pausing with my next slice halfway to my mouth. “Even though my dad wasn’t ever thrilled with the idea. Still isn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s a professor, a genius with a doctorate who teaches at a university. He thinks it’s stupid for grown men to chase around a puck on ice skates. For years, I thought he was just being an ah… being difficult.” I barely catch the swear wordin time. “But then when I got older, I realized he mostly just didn’t want to see me get hurt.”

Finley nods as if that all makes sense to him. And he’s a smart kid, so it probably does. His intelligence all came from his mother.

“I wonder if my dad’s a professor. Or maybe he’s an astronaut,” he says softly. “That would be cool too.”

“That would definitely be cooler than him being a hockey player,” I agree before biting into my slice of pepperoni.

His eyes widen. “You think my dad could be a hockey player? Like you and Uncle Preston are, playing in the big arenas full of people?”

I swallow, then tell him, “Yeah, I do, so you got your skills from both sides of your family.”

Tilting his head to the side, Finley says, “How do you know?”

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