Page 67 of Wrong Pucking Player

“Meaning, I need to return the favor,” he emphasizes. “You can stay in my place while they renovate. It took a few months and was delayed a bit due to a wood shortage, but I’m not around much. Jayce always has me doing paperboy shit for him, so aside from coming back to sleep, I won’t be lingering in the place.”

“You’re… letting me stay at your place?”

It seems like a miracle to me—a ‘too good to be true’ miracle.

Especially coming from Oscar Armani.

Who normally hates my guts.

“Returning the favor,” he emphasizes with a shrug. “It’s only fair, and again, I won’t be around. With this hockey shit, I’ll probably be extra busy. We were supposed to find out who our coaches are, but it got delayed a few days. So, tomorrow or the day after, we can move the majority of everything into my place. The couch may be tricky, but this floor has a storage area which they offered to us last time for anyone who couldn’t afford to get their stuff put in a storage unit.”

I process his words slowly. Each second that passes makes my heart ease its rapid pace. I didn’t realize how fast it was pumping against my chest.

“That seems… possible.” Like an actual miracle. “Are you sure? I mean, aren’t you worried about what others will think? Like Kane and Diesel?”

“Those two would never judge my decisions unless for a show,” he admits with a shrug. “I don’t really care about anyone else’s opinion of what I do with my place. No one really comes by, anyway.”

“What about Jayce?”

“Winchester would never step foot in this place,” he declares. “He only went into this facility because it was specifically asked of him by Mr. Champion himself, who obviously is the Head Operator of Strattonville Stadium and this hockey movement. Driving into this district gave him goosebumps, and he threw out the clothes he wore so he wouldn’t be plagued with poorness.”

“You’re pucking joking.”

“Fucking,” he counters. “Getting back into that now that Mikayla’s around?”

“It’s hit or miss,” I voice earnestly.

“And I’m not ‘pucking’ joking,” he continues. “He destroyed those clothes.

“Wow. How wasteful.” That pisses me off to get rid of clothes that were most likely designer because of the mere thought of being “plagued” with the inability to afford common housing.

“So, you have nothing to worry about,” he concludes and moves both thumbs along my cheeks as if to ensure no more tears were shed, even though his eyes have been on me this entire time. “So, breathe and get back to getting ready for your girls’ night.”

“You comforting me feels weird as hell,” I admit. “But I’m really grateful, Armani. Thank you for the gesture. I’ll… um… figure out a way to pay you back for the time spent in your place.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He lets go of my cheeks. “I’m gonna go. I have a workout to do with the guys at the gym. Mittens. Let’s ditch.”

“Meow!” The black cat with hints of white is off the couch and jumping onto the man’s shoulder.

“Muffin,” I correct.

“Plus, Jayce is allergic to cats.”

Say what now?

“Seriously?”

“Yup. His younger bro ain’t.”

“Jayce has a younger brother?”

So much tea in three seconds.

“Yup. That’s some other shit, but Winchester would be sneezing up a storm if he set foot in this hallway, so no way would he come here. Hope that brings some added comfort.”

That’s good to know… I think.

“Um… Armani?”

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