Page 28 of Her Puck Daddies

It’s not just admiration that simmers low in my belly—it’s heat, deep and unmistakable. My thighs press together instinctively as slickness pools between them. I’ve never been one to fawn over athletes, never considered myself a real fan of the sport. But if I’d known how ridiculously hot and tough these men are, especially the three I’ve already had my hands all over, maybe I would’ve been one a lot sooner.

The Avs crush the Panthers with a final score of three to one, and watching the team storm off the rink, riding the high of victory, makes me feel it, too.

I might not be out there scoring goals or making game-winning saves, but I’ve contributed—kept their bodies in check, helped them perform at their peak. It’s a small role in the grand scheme of things, just a tiny cog in the machine, but it matters. And it feels good to be part of something bigger.

The next day, the energy is sky-high as we board the plane to New York for their matchup against the Rangers. Everyone is chatting, laughing, and riding the adrenaline rush from the win.

Everyone except me.

While they revel in the excitement, I sit quietly, dread curling in my stomach like a fist. The closer we get, the worse it gets. The moment we touch down, nausea rolls over me in a sickening wave. Newark might technically be in a different state, but it’s still part of the New York City metro area.

My old turf.

And the familiarity alone is enough to send a shiver down my spine.

Dean’s home turf.

I don’t want to be here. Anywhere near here.

Even though there’s no logical way my ex could know I’m traveling with an NHL team, just being back in this part of the country unsettles me. It’s irrational, but I can’t shake the feeling that the second I step outside, he’ll know. As if somehow, just by existing within his radius, I’m setting off some invisible alarm.

It’s ridiculous. I know it is.

Dean never cared about hockey, no more than I did back then. He always wanted people, clients, to believe he was all about spirituality and mindfulness, but that was just for show. The only thing he ever cared about was money, success, and making a name for himself. A big part of that meant working me to the bone without paying me fairly, or on time.

If he wasn’t barking orders at me, he was playing Sudoku. That was it. His entire personality boiled down to control, arrogance, and self-indulgence.

And cruelty. And adultery. Even though I’d love to forget.

If I could walk into a doctor’s office and have them erase every memory of him, I’d do it in a heartbeat. No hesitation. Gone. I don’t want to sound ungrateful—the kindness he showed me in the beginning wasn’t nothing—but it damn sure wasn’t enough to make up for everything that came after.

For everything I lost. If I never thought about Dean Masters again, it would still be too soon.

Despite this hotel resembling the last one, just knowing I’mthisclose to Dean keeps me on edge. Every flash of ginger hair makes my stomach twist, especially on a man. Even a quick glimpse out of the corner of my eye is enough to set my nerves off.

I’m so wound up that when I spot a redheaded guy with freckles, I nearly lose it—until I realize he’s just a teenager. Not Dean. Not even close. But it takes repeating that to myself before my pulse settles.

The only thing keeping me grounded is my packed schedule and the small chance I’ll get to see Leighton. God, I miss her. I pull out my phone and fire off a quick text.

Ava: Hey girl! Just landed. I’ll let you know when I’m done with work so you can come by the hotel to have dinner with me. Game should be done by 7pm.

Leighton: Ava!! Can’t wait. I should be done at the bar by 8pm. Xoxo.

Appointments keep my body busy, if not my mind. At least they stop me from pacing like some cracked-out maniac.

The second I’m done, I hole up in my room, ordering some light snacks from room service just to avoid stepping out and risking a Dean sighting.

And yeah, I feel like a coward for watching from my room instead of the stands. But I’m not ready—not brave enough to face it. To face him. The monster who made me feel worthless. Not here. Not yet. Even if the lawyer assures me I’m in the clear, I know the unease won’t vanish overnight.

Logically, I know Dean won’t just materialize out of thin air tonight, but sitting out there in the stands would make me feel too exposed. And with these games being televised, there’s always the risk of a camera catching me before I even realize it. Being there live just isn’t worth the trouble.

The game that night is another win for the Avs, but this time, it's a much closer call. A single goal late in the third period breaks the tie, and the sheer anxiety of watching it unfold has my esophagus searing with heartburn.

Afterward, my phone lights up with a group text inviting everyone to coach’s suite for a celebratory party. I ignore it, but another message comes immediately after.

Cecille: Hey, where you at?

Ava: Getting ready in my room. About to grab dinner with my friend soon.