Page 98 of Thoroughly Pucked

Player after player come at me. It’s just like shooting practice at morning skate when the guys fire off shots from all directions, trying to score on me. Ryker slams a wrist shot that I knock down with my glove. Chase flies around the perimeter of the rink, trying to sneak up on me as he comes in fast and hot, but I kick out my leg and saysee you laterto that one.

Jaw tight, eyes lasered in on the action, I watch as Ledger flies down the ice. I can’t believe this season is going to be his last. He’s still as fearless and as terrifying as ever. When he smacks a slapshot at me, I stretch as far as I’ve ever stretched. I’ve got this, I swear I’ve got this, but it whizzes past, and lands right in the twine with a loud thwap.

“Ledger! You show him how to get in the hole!” Aubrey’s voice is loud and exuberant and downright filthy.

I fucking love that she cheers for both of us. No issues, no jealousy—she just switches back and forth.

As Ledger turns and skates the other way, there’s apang in my chest. An ache. I wish it weren’t his last season. I wish he could play forever.

But a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do. What will he do, though, when he retires? Will he spend more time with Aubrey? Without me?

What the fuck? Where did that thought come from?

I don’t even know. This fling has an end date—two days from now. Not a year from now. Not at the end of the season. It ends in less than forty-eight hours when the plane lands back in San Francisco.

I blink away the sobering thoughts.

Here on the ice, there’s no room to get lost in my head. Scrimmage or not, there are always stakes—playing my best.

For the next forty-five minutes, I soak up every second, reveling in each save as if it were happening during game seven in the playoffs.

That is where I want to be at the end of the season.

When our session ends, Stefan rips off his helmet and skates over to me, tapping his stick to mine. “You could do better,” he deadpans.

Asshole. He knows I only let in three.

“And you’re slow as shit,” I reply.

Stefan adopts a serious expression. “It’s all the sex I’ve been having.”

I roll my eyes. “Then stop having so much.”

He scoffs. “Please. I’ll just work out more to balanceit. Yeah, that’s it. This Sunday. The gym at my place. It’s on,” he says, pointing my way as Hayes glides over, joining us.

“I’ll be there.” I have to—training camp starts the next day.

“Me too,” Hayes puts in when he stops at the net, jerking up his helmet as well.

“No shit. You live there,” I say to Hayes, and damn, this feels good too, ribbing these guys, seeing my teammates.

“You can work out by your lonesome then,” Hayes says to me.

“Nah, I like the kale smoothies the Viking brings me,” I say, tipping my forehead toward the team captain.

Stefan shrugs with the confidence of a king. “I do make excellent smoothies.”

“Why don’t you just open a kale smoothie truck?” Hayes suggests to his friend and his partner since they’re both married to Ivy.

Stefan’s blue eyes twinkle. “I already own a restaurant. Why not add a smoothie truck? Thanks, New Guy.”

Hayes growls. “Nope. You’re not calling me that anymore.”

We haven’t called Hayes that in ages. He joined the team a year ago and outgrew that moniker quickly. “Yeah, Hollis has that name now,” I add.

“Actually, Hollis needs to be Surfer Boy, I decided,” Stefan says, then gestures to Hayes. “We picked it.”

I furrow my brow likewhat gives?“You picked anickname without me? You know I love doling out nicknames. Also, I have a much better one for Hollis.”

---