Page 1 of Her Puck Daddies (Game On Daddies #2)

AVA

I ’ve spent my life avoiding trouble. The moment voices sharpened with anger, whether it was my mom or one of her sketchy, pot-dealing friends, I disappeared.

Slipping under the bed, tucking myself into a closet, pressing into any shadowed corner that could swallow me whole. Out of sight, out of harm’s way.

I learned early that chaos was a storm best dodged.

In fifth grade, when a food fight exploded in the cafeteria, kids hurled mashed potatoes and milk cartons with wild delight.

But I didn’t join in. I ducked beneath the table, arms wrapped around my knees, waiting for the storm to pass.

Senior pranks in high school? Count me out.

I wasn’t the kid who laughed at detention stories—I was the one who made sure I’d never have one to tell.

I never look for chaos, but somehow, chaos always finds me. Like a bloodhound with my scent locked in its nose, it tracks me, relentless and unyielding .

And right now, trouble is waiting for me on my phone screen.

Voicemails. Texts. Emails. A furious flood, all from Dean “Dino” Masters, the man I was stupid enough to marry at nineteen and the one I’ve just served with divorce papers.

His words reeked of desperation, but nothing could erase the fact that Dean was never a real man—just a lying, cheating coward who mistook manipulation for love.

Maybe if I’d had a dad around, I’d have known what a real man looked like.

But I didn’t. So, I fell for the first one who pretended to be.

Dean refuses to let go, stubbornly clinging to the idea that I haven’t really walked away.

I’ve muted his notifications now, something I should’ve done after the first few enraged messages he sent.

Hell, if I’d been smarter, I would have seen this coming and cut him off the moment I smeared my good riddance message across his office windows.

But for the first time in a long time, I’m not drowning in regret.

Because the words I left him with? They will always be mine.

‘DEAN MASTERS HAS THE TINIEST OF COCKS.’

Even now, I can’t help but smile at the thought of those words stretched across the pristine glass facade of the Effortless Massage and Tranquility Center, his beloved business… where I was al so his employee. A bold, white-lettered truth bomb, impossible to ignore.

Does he deserve it? Without a doubt, even if it’s not true.

His cock is perfectly average, but I don’t care.

He earned that insult, not just for the years of verbal abuse that stripped me down until I barely recognized myself.

Not for the weeks of unpaid work, his desperate attempt to keep me tethered and powerless.

No. What sealed his fate was the moment I walked in on him, balls deep in a client, her body tangled with his in a mess of betrayal and sweat.

Did he really think he could screw her in our place of work and never get caught? That I wouldn’t see him, wouldn’t feel the final, breaking snap of the rope he’d tied around my throat?

Seeing him like that didn’t break me.

It set me free.

The weight I carried for too long shattered, and its place rose something sharper, stronger. I had been suffocating in his lies, drowning in his deceit. But now, I could finally breathe. And with that first, liberating exhale came the sweet taste of revenge.

Yes, some might call scrawling that message in white shoe polish childish. Maybe I didn’t have to sink to his level. Maybe it threw gasoline on an already raging fire .

But dammit, it was my battle cry.

Because not only are those words about him.

They’re about me. Reclaiming the power he stole from me, piece by piece, over the past two years.

And I’d be an idiot to think he’d be any different for the next woman.

Men like him don’t change. So, in a way, that message wasn’t just mine.

It was a warning, a shield for the next woman in line, the next victim he’d try to break.

I can still hear his insults and cruel words. What started out as underhanded comments became gaslighting and worse.

“These shirts don’t smell like they should. Did you even bother to add the goddamn detergent?”

“What? You’re too stupid and fat to make the bed right? The comforter goes over the pillows, not under .”

“What part of lightly toasted bread don’t you understand? You’re burning it deliberately, aren’t you, you selfish cunt. Do it again. I dare you.”

This was my soon-to-be ex-husband’s specialty—keeping me trapped in a cycle of fear, keeping me constantly on edge.

When you’re afraid of the person you share a home with, nothing feels safe.

You forget what it’s like to eat without a knot in your stomach, to take a shower without flinching at the sound of footsteps.

Even bedtime, your supposed refuge, becomes a battlefield, because how do you sleep next to someone whose rage is always waiting to ignite?

So when I wrote those words on his office windows, it wasn’t just an act of defiance. It was an exorcism, purging all my demons at once.

For the first time in years, I wasn’t the one shrinking. He was.

Because Dean Masters no longer controls me. No longer dictates my fear, my choices, my life. I am no longer his to intimidate, no longer his to manipulate.

And damn, does that feel good.

Besides, within the next few minutes, I’ll being leaving Newark for good.

It feels like the beginning of a fresh chapter as I drop my phone into my pocket and traverse the aisle toward my business class seat aboard this 737.

I only have these deluxe accommodations because my new employer, the NHL’s Colorado Avalanche, has paid for me to arrive at their Denver headquarters in style.

Getting the call about my sudden change in fortune couldn’t have come at a better time. I’ve been desperate to get the hell out of New Jersey for so long, to leave behind the place where Dean and so many of my worst memories live .

It’s not just him, though. I didn’t have many friends growing up, and survival with my mom was all I knew.

She did her best, but her need to get high often got the best of her.

The minute I turned eighteen, she packed up and took off on a road trip with her friends, leaving me to figure out life on my own.

She checks in every few months, a text or a quick call, but that’s the extent of our relationship.

I couldn’t turn to her when things with Dean fell apart, but I had Leighton, my best friend, my rock, the one person I’ll actually miss.

So, as much as this fresh start feels like a gift, I might be jumping out of the frying pan and straight into the fire.

Because as soon as I get there, I’ll have to face the three ghosts of my one-night stand’s past, the strangers I shared a crazy, uninhibited, and stark-naked evening with.

Men I’ll have to work closely with at this new job.

Oh, and did I mention that one-night stand was the best damn sex in my entire life?

My stomach has been in knots ever since realizing that the ridiculously hot men I only knew as Odds, Doggie, and Spandex are actually Eric Schwartz, Sven Hinter, and Levi Corolla—key players on the very NHL team I’ve just been hired to treat.

So if there was any lingering doubt that my bad luck would follow me clear across the country?

Yeah, that’s gone. It’s definitely coming with me.

And at this point, more bad luck feels almost inevitable.

Because the truth is, this new chapter, this new career, might not even have the chance to take root. It could wither and die right there on the vine.

So, yeah, trouble continues to haunt my steps, and apparently, it always will.

But really, what choice do I have? Leaving this city isn’t just a want, it’s a necessity. And so is the ridiculously generous salary the organization is offering. Besides, I’ve already signed on the dotted line. No backing out now. Not for me, and hopefully, not for the league.

Hopefully.

For now, the NHL has made sure my flight is comfortable, so I should probably try to enjoy it. Or at least pretend to. That’s what I keep telling myself, anyway. People like me don’t get breaks like this often, so I’m doing my best to stay calm and take it in stride.

Even if the second I see those three hockey players again, it all blows up in my face.

Seated comfortably in Business Class, I glance out the window of the empty seat next to me, watching the caravan of aircraft lining up for takeoff.

It’s my first time flying, and honestly, I’m impressed—soft leather seats, generous legroom, and chairs that recline almost all the way back.

Even the screens in front of me are stocked with endless entertainment options.

Definitely a step into luxury after going without for so long, and I’m determined to soak in every bit of it.

Just as I’m settling in, movement near the front of the plane draws my attention.

I peek ahead, my gaze slipping past the curtain separating first class from the rest of the cabin.

Three men step through, and the moment I recognize them, my heart leaps into my throat. I bite down on a panicked yelp.

Holy shit.

Holy fuck .

A tall and beefy man with fluffy brown hair and a ridiculously handsome face is swaggering down the aisle with the ease that only athletes possess.

It’s Eric. Behind him is the dark head of Levi and then, of course, Sven’s blond one.

I bury my face into the space between my seat and my window and pretend to be asleep, my blood pressure rising.

I’m so screwed.

Why of all the flights out of all the different times, why do they have to be on this one ?

I lay there, eyes closed, features hidden as best as I can manage—too bad it’s not winter so I could be wearing a hoodie—wishing for a miracle. Maybe they won’t notice me. If they do, I won’t know what to say. I’ve been attempting to work that out somehow, but I haven’t yet. I’m not ready.

My shitty lack of fortune has shown its ugly head again. I mean, I knew they were in Newark, but what is the likelihood of us sharing the same flight? Maybe it makes sense. For them, this will mean heading home. But still.

Dammit.

I literally hold my breath as they toss their bags in the overhead bins and settle into their seats, afraid to move a single muscle. Only after counting to one hundred do I dare to slit open one eye, checking if the coast is clear.

It appears to be. Thank god.

They’re a few rows ahead, completely unaware of my presence. But even after takeoff, even after we hit cruising altitude, I can’t relax. I can’t lower my guard. This flight is just over three and a half hours, so I hunker down and stay exactly where I am. What other choice do I have?

But, as usual, nothing ever goes that smoothly for me .

About an hour in, the ice water the flight attendant handed me at the start of the flight hits bottom, and I suddenly really need to use the lavatory. There’s one up front, but that would mean trundling by the keen-eyed Sven, Eric, and Levi without being detected.

Nope . I’d rather hold it.

But another hour passes, and now I’m about to burst. What if we get held up on the tarmac? That happens all the time, right? And who knows if they’ll even let passengers get up then. No, I can’t wait any longer. I have to do this now.

So, I wend my way toward the back.

Even this isn’t without its difficulties since both of the two lavatories at the rear are occupied. By the time one opens up, I’m doing the peepee dance and praying that I’ll be capable of holding it until I can get inside.

At last, crisis averted, I make my way back up the aisle through economy.

A little more than halfway there, though, I freeze, feeling like a secret agent on a covert mission as I glance up, assessing the hockey players I need to avoid.

They’re perfectly still—thankfully, motionless, which likely means they’re napping .

I release a breath, cautiously continuing my stealth journey when, out of nowhere, a baby behind me lets out a screech so loud it could shatter glass.

I jerk where I stand, stunned by the sudden, ear-splitting noise, when Levi turns in his seat. His annoyed scowl briefly sweeps past me, then his eyes snap back, locking onto mine. I freeze as his gaze sharpens, widening for a split second before narrowing in recognition.

“ Hottie ?” he hollers out, drawing the attention of Sven and Eric as well as most of the first and business class passengers. Even one of the flight attendants who’s been waiting on us pokes her head out of the service area.

Shit, shit, shit.

Does he really have to call me that? Then again, what else would he say? It’s the only name he knows me by from that one unforgettable night. I only knew them as Doggie, Spandex, and Odds, and let me tell you, it worked like a charm, turning up the flirtation and the heat for one hell of a ride.

But now? I don’t know what to do. I try to come up with some logical explanation for why I’m here, but my thoughts are as helpful as mashed potatoes. It only gets worse when Levi’s jaw tightens, a vein bulging in his forehead, as he stands from his seat and starts moving toward me .

“What are you doing here?” he demands. “Are you stalking us?”

“Um, no,” I squeak like a mouse, my throat hurting. My hand goes to it as if rubbing my throat from the outside will help.

News flash. It doesn’t.

I didn’t want things to go down like this, but I guess there’s no easy solution to this tangled web I’ve woven. Why can’t I stay out of trouble?

Sven jumps from his seat, grabbing at his friend’s shoulder from behind, as if trying to hold him back. I can’t quite read Sven’s expression—it’s like he’s wearing a mask. But the first words come from Eric, not the other two.

“What’s going on?” he asks, his voice calm—not angry, but his confusion unmistakable. As he uncoils from his seat across the aisle, he swivels, his gaze locking onto me. “Why are you here?”

I feel like a burglar caught in the act as Sven glances from Eric to Levi and silently mouths the word, “Fuck.”

Yeah, that’s my take on all this, too. And none of them even know the rest of it. If they’re reacting this badly to me being on their plane, what will they do when they hear about my new position? Especially since I’ll be invading their personal space .

My vision begins to fade at the edges, the world around me growing darker with every breath I can’t take.

Concern crinkles across the foreheads of Eric, Sven, and the flight attendant who’s suddenly appeared behind me.

Even Levi’s over-the-top irritation seems to dull, but maybe that’s just the dizzying wave crashing over me.

The atmosphere around me goes suddenly flat, as if the very life has been sucked from the air. And then, like a candle snuffed out in an instant, everything goes black.