Page 95 of Double Pucked

“Well, yeah,” I say, with alife sucksshrug. Even if my sister’s cool with us, would others be? My teammates? The rest of my family? And really, most of all, would Chase and Trina want to be in a relationship? Maybe they like it for a week, but asking someone to be a throuple is more terrifying than facing down bloodthirsty teams on the ice.

“Please. You love who you love,” she says, emphatic.

I don’t disagree but I won’t get my hopes up. “Regardless, she just got out of a bad breakup. She doesn’t want anything more than something casual. She said as much. So even if I had a modicum of feelings—”

“You don’t have to be so Mister Vocabulary to cover up your feelings.” Ivy snorts.

“An iota,” I say tightly, refusing to give in.

“More like a fuck-ton.”

Fine. I hold my hands up in surrender. “Even if that’s true,” I continue, “there’s nothing I can do about it. She’s here with Chase, and he’s not into anything more, and…” What’s the point? The cards are stacked against us.

I drag a hand through my hair, wishing there were another way, wishing I didn’t have a pact, wishing I could somehow lay my heart on the line for Trina and not lose my best friend in doing so. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll get over her.”

But it will hurt, because in one stupid, annoying, amazing, incredible week, I’ve fallen in love with a girl who stole her ex’s tickets and then my heart.

* * *

A little later, we leave, but once we reach Chase’s home there’s a message blinking up at me on my phone.

Ivy: Call me when you get this.

That’s not foreboding at all.

In the garage, I step away from the two of them and dial her. “What’s going on?”

“Your ex did a podcast with the shit-tastic reporter. And it’s about Trina.”

I want to kill them before I even listen.

35

BAD LUCK CHARM

Chase

The three of us are gathered at the kitchen counter, the site of so many fantastic dinners and breakfasts over the last week. The place where we’ve gotten to know her, where we’ve laughed, and argued, and shared. Where we made the new pact.

Now, with dread crawling through my veins, I open my podcast app. I’m bracing myself for the worst. Trina’s face is pale. Ryker is a stone, and I’ve got to keep my shit together since that’s what I do.

I keep it together, no matter what happens.

“It’s going to be fine,” I say tightly, then I hit play.

The reedy voice of a one-time hockey podcaster fills my home. “Bryce Tucker in the house. You might know me from my sports coverage, but celeb coverage is way more fun. So let’s do it. I have a fantastic guest here today. The Stuntwoman.”

Abby laughs. Or Selena, or whoever she is. It’s a familiar sound, one I used to liken to bells, but now, it’s the sound of deception wrapped up in a pretty package. “Hey everyone, this is your girl Selena here, AKA The Stuntwoman. And no, friends,” she stage whispers, “that’s not my real name.”

“Never give up your name,” Bryce says. “Now, I hear you have an interesting story for us.”

“I sure do.”

I rub a hand across the back of my neck. This is going to be bad. Trina’s fidgeting with her nails, picking at her cuticles. I’ve never seen her do that before. It’s so unlike her. I don’t even know what to say to reassure her.

If I can say anything.

“Remember a week or so back when that hockey game made the news for the VIP evening?”

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