Page 29 of Her Puck Daddies (Game On Daddies #2)

AVA

I don’t know why I’m even surprised by this. Not the specifics, though that part is shocking, but the fact that something amazing, like that night in Jersey, has taken a hard left turn straight into nightmare territory.

It figures, considering my terrible luck. Still, it leaves me reeling.

The thought of someone recording us without our knowledge, then sending it to team headquarters, is nothing short of horrifying.

After coach and Barb leave, Sven lays everything out for us. My mind is a complete blank, my body numb, as if I’ve been paralyzed from the inside out.

Except for one thing. A suspicion. A nagging thought buried deep in the back of my mind. I keep it to myself, letting it simmer, while Sven, Eric, and Levi lose their minds around me.

"Th is is bullshit," Levi yells, his default response always anger. "They need to check that goddamn hotel. The concierge, the bellboy, housekeeping, every single person who works there."

"Barb said there’s already an investigation," Sven explains, his tone steady. "The team’s security firm is handling it. I’m sure they’ll be questioning all of those people."

"This is bad. This is so fucking bad," Eric mumbles, mostly to himself, his head buried in his hands.

He’s been like this for the past several minutes. I’ve been trying to block him out. Not that it helps.

We don’t even have access to the thumb drive. They took it back with them. It’s probably for the best. Having copies of something like that is a legal disaster waiting to happen.

From what Sven tells us, our faces are crystal clear.

I’m so goddamn na?ve. It never occurred to me that someone would go after these guys, that someone would actively try to harm them. Even though I know famous people deal with stalkers all the time.

Is that what this is? Some obsessed psycho watching from the shadows? Or is it just about money?

Tha t seems more likely, given the anonymous account left on the drive, a cold demand for cash with no personal message, no twisted obsession—just dollar signs.

"I don’t think I even have five mil free and clear to give," Eric says abruptly, lifting his head, his expression grim. "I’d have to sell some shit just to pull that kind of capital together."

"You’re not selling anything," Levi snarls, his jaw tight. "We’re not giving these bastards a single fucking cent."

Sven exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair again. He’s been doing it so much, his usually flawless blond tresses are a complete mess. But when his eyes land on me, something inside me turns ice cold.

"There’s something else I need to tell you,” he says, voice lower now, heavier. "I’m pretty sure they suspect the three of us are in a relationship with you, Ava."

The room goes still.

"What the actual fuck, dude?" Eric explodes, coming completely unglued.

“I didn’t tell them," Sven says, his hands gesturing emphatically toward Eric before his eyes lock back onto me.

"Not in so many words. But right before they left, Barb mentioned that we should n’t be seen with you in public.

Whoever this is, is likely keeping tabs on us, and it would be unwise to fan the flames. "

Levi doesn’t say a word, but his expression is pure murder.

I haven’t added anything to their frantic back-and-forth, but now I shift, balancing myself on my crutches as I stand. "As much as I wanted this, this is exactly why we should have never kept seeing each other. Now, we could all lose our jobs. We could be dragged through the mud. I'm going home."

"The fuck you are," Eric shoots back, his expression not angry, but deeply concerned.

"It’s not safe," Sven argues, his voice sharper now, edged with something dangerously close to panic. "Some lunatic is watching us. Possibly targeting you, too."

“Didn’t you just say that Barb doesn’t want us seen in public together?” I challenge him. “I think that makes going home necessary. And I’m doing it alone.”

“If you're leaving, then I'm taking you. Period." Sven’s voice is firm, unshakable, pure command, and though I’m tempted to argue, I don’t.

Speaking to him one-on-one is something I need to do anyway.

A f ew minutes later, we’re in his SUV, pulling out of the underground parking garage beneath his condo. The tinted windows shield us from prying eyes, offering a temporary illusion of privacy. His hands stay firmly on the wheel, his presence protective, absolute.

The silence as he drives is deafening, so I speak up. “Look, Sven, I can’t say why I feel this way, but I have a feeling that Dean is behind this.”

“Your ex?”

“Yes.”

“But he still doesn’t know where you are, right? Or has something else happened with your friend back in Jersey?” he asks.

“Nothing else has happened. At least nothing she’s updated me on. But this has him written all over it.”

Sven wraps his big hands around my shoulder. “That man sounds like someone who needs a fist in his face, no question. The fact that you’re trying to divorce him probably won’t be enough to make him a suspect but letting that security firm know about him couldn’t hurt.”

Once we pull up to my place, Sven glares at my apartment like it personally spit on his skate. "I hate leaving you here."

"I ’m fine. This is my home."

He doesn’t look convinced. Without a word, he steps around the car, opens my door, and helps me up to my apartment. His grip is steady, like he’s reluctant to let go.

"I’d like for my place to be your home."

I freeze, my heart stuttering. I tilt my head up, meeting his gaze, searching his face for clarity. Did he just say what I think he said? "What did you just say?"

He lets out a deep, almost weary sigh, eyes searching mine as if he's bracing himself for a reaction. “I want you to move in with me. Forever. To be with me, with all of us.”

His voice is firm, but warm, laced with something that sounds a lot like vulnerability. “There's something about you, about the way you fit into our lives that just feels... right . I don’t know how else to say it. I guess I—”

He pauses, like he's wrestling to find the right words, then they spill out in a rush. “I’m falling for you, Ava.”

My mouth parts, but nothing comes out. My heart slams against my ribs, pounding so hard it drowns out everything else. I barely manage a whisper. "But—"

His eyes lock onto mine, unwavering. “I felt it that first night we met you. And now, after all this time together, I know it wasn’t just in the heat of the moment. I want more.”

And before I can even fully process what’s happening, he cups my face, pulling me into a kiss, long, slow, filled with all the emotions he’s been holding back.

“I need to be with you,” he murmurs against my lips, as if sealing the promise right then and there.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

He lingers, hesitation woven into every second. Just before closing the door on his way out, he gives me a regretful look, his sigh heavy, weighted with something unspoken. "I hate that you won’t just come back with me."

Then, he’s gone.

The massive bouquet from the Avs still sits nearby, along with the chocolates, stuffed animals, and other well-meaning tokens from my coworkers. But instead of lifting my spirits, they only serve as reminders of what I can’t have—the three men I crave most.

The next two days are the loneliest I’ve experienced since leaving Jersey. Sven, Eric, and Levi keep their distance, following management’s advice, and that means I don’t see them at all. No stolen glances, no teasing smirks, no fleeting touches that send warmth through my skin. Just silence.

I s hould find comfort in the fact that Sven offered to share his home with me—that he was willing to give me a place in his life. But now, I can’t help but wonder… was that offer made because he truly wants me there, or just because of the chaos we’re caught in?

Because right now, there’s a shadow hanging over us, heavy and sharp. A threat, looming like a guillotine, waiting to drop.

***

On Monday, I head straight to Barb’s office, my nerves tight, and I spill everything.

Well, everything that’s been happening with Dean, or rather, everything that hasn’t been happening.

Patrick still hasn’t been able to get in touch with him for a copy of the signed divorce papers.

He thinks he might be having second thoughts.

And if that’s the case, I might have to take matters into my own hands soon.

Somehow, I know deep down that he’s the one pulling the strings behind this messed up situation.

While I’m in Barb’s office, I ask her to show me the full video footage.

She doesn’t hesitate, leading me to a smaller room where the security firm has access to everything.

As the footage rolls, I feel my stomach twist in knots.

It's humiliating to watch, but so mething keeps tugging at my thoughts—the placement of the camera.

It’s not up in the corner like a typical security camera.

No, this one is set at waist height, angled perfectly to capture every detail, every intimate angle.

I tilt my head around, seeing if I could somehow see the semi-blind spots around the main focus of the video.

From that angle, it looks like the camera was embedded, carefully placed.

Maybe on the wall. Or maybe it was in something nearby. A chair, a vase?

A sickening thought hits me like a punch to my gut. I had my large purse with me that night. And I distinctly remember setting it down on a chair.

I choke back a gasp. This has to be the missing piece of the puzzle.

What if Dean has been tracking me? What if he planted something? It wouldn’t be the first time he’s gone to extreme lengths to control me. If that’s the case, where the hell could he have hidden it where I wouldn’t notice?