Page 67 of Broken As Puck

But if I did, so much would be on the line. Not just my heart, but my job and my reputation in the industry too.

I had a lot to lose.

Chapter Twenty-Three

MATT

I backed up to bend over and pick up my skates and bumped into someone behind me. When I looked around, Drew glared at me, his headphones on, his mouth set in its perpetual scowl.

“Uh-oh, you interrupted his hardcore warmup playlist,” Jesse teased.

Brown snorted. “I know exactly what kind of music McKinley listens to and it’s about as hardcore as a unicorn.”

Jesse tsked. “Don’t forget that unicorns have horns.” He turned to Drew, who looked about ready to punch someone in the face. “Are you a horny unicorn, Drew?”

“I’m a pissed-off unicorn,” Drew growled. “You’d better watch for rainbow farts, Brown.”

Jesse stared at him, visibly delighted. “I think we all will now.”

Coach Dunn whistled to get everyone’s attention and, once he had it, launched into his usual pre-game spiel. I sat to pull my skates on and laced them tightly while listening, then I taped my stick and made sure everything was in order.

Once Coach Dunn had told us the starting lineup and explained how he wanted to approach the game—rock solid in defense, limit the movement of defensemen out of the defensive zone—we made our way out onto the ice.

I’d played in the T-Mobile Arena in Las Vegas over a dozen times before and knew it well. Rows of black seats formed a ring around the ice while a massive screen displayed camera footage for those seated farther back, on the second level or beyond.

The stadium was packed, as it often was. Las Vegas was such a popular tourist destination that even if locals didn’t buy enough tickets to fill the stands, they ended up filled, nonetheless.

We circled around the ice, and I silently catalogued where Assistant Coach Willets waited and where Chelsey and the documentary team stood near the edge of the rink. They must have pulled some strings to have been given such a good position. As I skated past her, she raised her camera and snapped a photo. I smiled, hoping she’d be able to tell with the helmet blocking my features.

My heart pounded for a reason completely unrelated to the exercise I was doing, and I pictured her face as I’d taken her apart. Thankfully, there was no chance of me getting a hard-on in front of so many thousands of people because I couldn’t wipe the image from my mind.

I hoped she’d let me touch her again.

I hadn’t had nearly enough of her. If she allowed me to, I’d kiss her first thing in the morning and last thing at night every day for the rest of our lives.

The game began a short while later, and it wasn’t difficult to stick to Coach’s plan. Vegas’s forwards came out strong, so it was all Gauthier and I could do to hold our own. There was no chance of one of us taking a run with the puck.

Unfortunately, their center and wing managed to get the puck past me and slotted it over Davenport’s left shoulder just before the end of the first period.

We fought them off in the second period. Gauthier and I were an impenetrable barrier whenever we were on, and McKinley and Elliott were strong together too. McKinley even managed not to throw hands despite the fact he was obviously tempted. Perhaps he was conscious of the documentary crew capturing absolutely everything we did.

Going into the third period, we were down one-nil. Vegas fought harder than ever, eager to score again, but five minutes in, I got the puck and passed it to Harris, who put it over the opposing line. We cheered and piled on Harris, who, in his typical fashion, tried to dodge the congratulations and claps on the back.

The goal must have set a fire under our forwards because less than a minute later, Kelly scored, and only seconds before the final whistle blew, Young did too.

We gathered together in the center of the ice, elated at the win. I slung an arm around Young and another around Gauthier. Even though we all knew not to read too much into our wins this early in the season, I was feeling more optimistic than I’d had in years. If we kept this up, we might make it to the playoffs.

We cooled down, stretched, and showered. Coach Dunn congratulated us on the win and cautioned us not to go wild overnight. McKinley was given Frankie the fox—to his horror—and Coach took Harris and Young with him to the press conference. The rest of us dressed and made our way to the bus.

I looked for Chelsey but found her already sitting with Max, deep in conversation. A little disappointed, I dropped onto a seat beside Gauthier. When Coach, Jesse, and Austin joined us, we drove back to the hotel.

I lugged my bag to the room I was sharing with Jesse and immediately got out of the suit. It wasn’t that I disliked suits, but jeans were much more comfortable. I paired them with a button-up, so I’d at least look semi-formal and the two of us headed down to dinner.

Chelsey was seated at the opposite end of the table from me, so I didn’t get the opportunity to speak to her while I ate. I caught her looking at me once or twice and smiled, but I couldn’t tell what was going on behind her carefully neutral expression.

After dinner, I went to the bar to order a drink and was waiting for the busy bartender to notice me when someone appeared right beside me, so close I could feel the heat radiating from their body. I turned, hoping it was Chelsey, and my stomach dropped when I saw it was instead a pretty brunette in a short black dress.

“Hi.” She gave me a once-over and grinned. “Want to buy me a drink, handsome?”