Page 27 of Her Puck Daddies

“I’ll be there,” I tell her. “For my appointment.”

Shedoesn’t nod or wave or acknowledge my words in any way. In fact, she disappears so fast down that hallway that she could be the hockey player rather than me.

Once she’s gone, I twist around to see what Levi wanted, but he’s not even looking at me. His eyes still locked on Ava, his expression unreadable, but so damn focused that I half expect him to take off after her.

He doesn’t. But he wants to. I can see it in the way his jaw tightens, the way his fingers flex at his sides. I don’t press him on it. The last thing I need to do is bring her up around anyone else, not even the goalie who’s practically family to me.

I clear my throat, hoping to shift the focus. “Why were you looking for me?”

“Dinner,” he says after a beat, but his attention still flickers between me and the hallway Ava disappeared down.

The whole situation makes my skin itch. I drag a hand across the back of my neck, trying to shake it off. “Great, I could eat a horse.”

“Fine,” he says, finally looking at me. “But I want to take the stairs.”

Something is off, but I don't question it. Even if he just took the elevator to get here. I don’t mind the cardio anyway.

But as we head down, I feel his eyes on me, scanning like he’s trying to read a secret message scrawled across my forehead that he can’t decipher. Still, I keep quiet.

Levi knows me too well not to sense something’s off, but the last thing I need is for him to bring up Ava. It’s not about keeping secrets from him or Sven. I don’t want to keep things from them, but I gave her my word.

Whatever’s going on between us, stays between us.

At least for now.

Chapter 10

AVA

As I wait for Eric to arrive on game day, I can’t shake the nagging thought that he and Levi might have talked about what happened between us. The idea gnaws at me, curling around my nerves, but before I can dwell on it too long, Eric strides in.

By some miracle, he’s completely at ease.

He stretches out on my table like it’s second nature, like I’ve been working on him for years instead of just a handful of sessions. And yeah, he gets hard as a pipe. I acknowledge it for a split second, but this time, I brush past it without lingering, without letting it steal the air from the room.

I half expect him to make a suggestive comment, to test the boundaries and see if I’ll help him out again. But he doesn’t. And damn, I didn’t realize how much I needed that relief.

What happened last time felt like the only way to help him in the moment, but it can’t become a regular thing. Crossing that line once was already a risk. Doing it again could lead to consequences I’m definitely not ready to face.

At least for now, it seems like we’ve left it behind.Good.I need it to stay that way.

Although I’ve never watched a hockey game in my life, being part of the staff means I get a free ticket. So, I decide to finally see what it is that Sven, Eric, and Levi obsess over so much.

And honestly? I’m blown away.

Hockey is relentless—fast, brutal, barely giving players a second to breathe. The only pauses are the seventeen-minute intermissions between periods, and even those feel like they vanish in the blink of an eye. I barely have enough time to grab a soda and a pretzel before the action picks back up.

Even as a complete rookie to the sport, spotting them is easy.

Levi, of course, stands in the net—his helmet bulkier than the others, designed for maximum protection. Honestly, I wish all players wore as much gear as goalies do. The whole sport would be a hell of a lot safer.

Then there’s Eric, tearing down the ice like a goddamn turbo jet. For such a massive guy, he moves with shocking speed—likepure muscle and momentum combined into something terrifyingly unstoppable. If I ever had to face off against someone like him, I wouldn’t even hesitate. I’d skate my ass right off the ice and hide in the stands.

Sven is a thing of beauty out there. Where Levi is all about blocking shots and Eric is a wrecking ball, barreling through anyone who dares get in his way, Sven glides. He doesn’t just move—he commands the ice, weaving through defenders like they aren’t even there. And when he scores—effortless, precise, like it’s nothing—it finally clicks just how much raw talent he possesses.

They all possess.

The way Sven moves, the deadly accuracy of his shot, the complete control he has over the puck. It’s more than just skill. It’s instinct. And damn if that isn’t a turn-on.