Page 4 of Broken As Puck

Our cars were in the same direction, so we started across the parking lot toward them.

“Chelsey and I dated in college,” I admitted, keeping my gaze on the vehicles rather than on him. “I was crazy about her, but I fucked up and lost her.”

“Fucked up how?” Nick asked as we reached his car. “Did you cheat?”

“No! I would never cheat on her. But I hurt her badly enough that she left me, and I’ve always regretted it.”

Nick rested his hip against the driver’s side door and made a thoughtful sound in the back of his throat. “Are you going to try to win her back?”

I laughed, even though I didn’t find any of this the least bit amusing. “I would love to, but I get the feeling she’d rather run me over with a Zamboni.”

He grimaced. “Perhaps you’re better not to push her, then. Do you want my advice?”

I shrugged. “Sure.”

“Do what you can to make her job as easy as possible. Maybe she’ll warm up to you.”

I appreciated his insight, but I doubted that. Not when the last thing she said to me all those years ago was, “Don’t come after me unless you want a kick in the balls.”

Chapter Two

CHELSEY

I collapsed into the driver’s seat of my ancient SUV, my hands shaking, and prayed that I’d come across as cool and collected. I’d certainly tried to. I dropped my forehead onto the steering wheel and drew in deep breaths, trying to calm myself.

Damn Matt Matthews to the deepest pits of hell. Why couldn’t I feel nothing for him after all this time?

Ugh, I hated that seeing him still stirred up so many emotions. My gut churned with hurt and betrayal, but there was a hint of something else too. Something I’d never admit to, even under pain of torture.

Attraction.

How dare that asshole be just as handsome as ever?

There should be a rule that cowardly men weren’t allowed to be sexy. He should be balding and potbellied and well and truly gone to seed, not just as gorgeous in that all-American way as ever. Fucking Matt with his thick blond hair, piercing blue eyes, and those muscular biceps I used to love to feel wrap around me.

It wasn’t fair.

I sat up and checked out the window to make sure no one had seen my slightly embarrassing meltdown. Reassured that the coast was clear, I slotted the key into the ignition and started the engine.

It was a bit of a drive from the stadium to the apartment I shared with my best friend, Layla, and I spent far too much of it wondering exactly what Matt had wanted to say to me when he’d tried to apologize. I’d interrupted because I hadn’t been interested in hearing any excuses, but still…I wondered, and it irritated me that I cared.

I shouldn’t give a shit about what Matt wanted to say. I wished I didn’t. I wished a lot of things, but wishes were just that: wishes. They weren’t meant to come true.

My career, on the other hand, was real, and I’d worked hard for it. I’d thought long and hard about accepting this job offer because I knew it would mean seeing Matt again, but the opportunity had been too tempting. If I was part of the team that successfully turned around one of the biggest PR disasters in the NHL, then I’d be able to write my own ticket. I wouldn’t be stuck applying for everything and crossing my fingers that something panned out like I had when my last contract was coming to an end.

I wasn’t about to let Matt mess with that. Honestly, I doubted he would anyway. At least not intentionally. He wasn’t that kind of person. But he could be bullheaded when he wanted something, and given my own mixed emotions when it came to him, it would be best to keep my distance as much as possible.

I met my eyes in the rearview mirror before flicking them back to the road. “Get yourself together.”

I parked in the basement of our apartment building and took the elevator to our floor. My apartment was about midway up the building, which was nice because it meant we had a reasonably nice view. I used the key to let myself in, bent to untie my shoelaces, placed my shoes next to the door, and wandered farther in.

Despite the gray skies, sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling window in the living room and the heating system maintained a pleasant temperature, like what I’d become accustomed to in Los Angeles.

“How did it go?” Layla asked from where she sat cross-legged on the couch.

“Well, I think.” I removed my camera from around my neck and placed it on the kitchen counter. “Everyone I talked to was friendly.”

I’d noticed that a few of the players hadn’t made any effort to introduce themselves to me and suspected those might cause problems later. Fortunately for me, I was familiar with every player on the team, including the rookies, because of my love of the game and plenty of pre-season preparation.