Page 76 of Broken As Puck

“It’s no problem, Mr. Matthews.” She smiled tightly. “I’ve taken up enough of Matt’s time. I should get going.”

“Stay,” I said before I could stop myself.

Unfortunately, she only paused for a couple of seconds before hurrying from the room. She returned a moment later with her jacket on and her handbag over her shoulder.

“I’ll see you on Monday,” she said, waving while continuing not to meet my gaze, and then she disappeared again.

My stomach dropped. “Fuck.”

Hopefully, this wasn’t the excuse she needed to back off after we’d spent so much time getting close again.

“Did I just put my foot in something?” Dad asked, the corners of his mouth tight.

“It wasn’t your fault,” I assured him.

“I’m sorry. I should have thought before I spoke.”

“We’re both sorry.” Mom drew me into a hug. “We shouldn’t have just turned up. It was thoughtless of us.”

“It will be fine. I’ll smooth things over with her later.” Hopefully. If she was willing to listen. Surely, she’d come around soon. We’d been living in a bubble, but that couldn’t continue.

She must know that, right?

Chapter Twenty-Seven

CHELSEY

“Coach Dunn, how are you feeling about the team’s chances of winning against Boston and entering the playoffs?” Patrick, who was conducting interviews before that night’s game, asked.

Coach Dunn scowled at the camera. “You should know better than to ask a superstitious hockey player about their odds of winning ahead of time. I thought we agreed there wouldn’t be any of that sort of nonsense in this documentary.”

Patrick looked chagrined. “Sorry, Coach. Let me rephrase: Do you feel the team has been strong in training?”

Coach Dunn allowed this even though I doubted he liked it much better than the first question. “The team is in good shape, and they’re playing well together.”

I had to agree with that. I’d been watching their games religiously and keeping an eye on their training sessions through the office window. They were working hard and they’d come a long way. I suspected that most of them were nervous ahead of tonight. I knew that Matt was.

“I need to get to the team,” Coach Dunn said and Max hit a button to stop the camera.

We were in front of the rink at the TD Garden arena in Boston and the documentary crew had taken advantage of a brief lull while the teams were preparing to grab Coach for an interview. They’d already spoken to any players they were interested in getting personal comments from a couple of days ago so as not to psych them out so close to the beginning of the game. Perhaps the same should have been done with the coaches.

Coach Dunn nodded to us as a group and headed for the changing rooms.

“What do you think?” Patrick asked me, not bothering with the camera because I wasn’t interesting enough to officially interview. “Do you think they can pull it off?”

“I hope so.” I thought it was a strong possibility, but Boston wasn’t a team that could be discounted and I also didn’t want to jinx anyone by claiming I thought they’d win.

He chuckled. “You’re as bad as them.”

I shrugged. “I used to play.”

“Ah, that makes sense.” He tucked his hands into his pockets. “Just casually?”

“Yeah. I’m far too clumsy for more than that. Honestly, I’m lucky as it is that I never seriously injured myself. Have you ever played?”

He grinned. “Only once or twice. I’m more the type to yell from the sidelines than to actually get in on the action.”

“Your job suits you well, then.”