Page 45 of Her Puck Daddies

Levi blocks every single shot on goal.

It’s like one of those science fiction force fields went up in front of his net. Or like he has a magnet in his glove and the puck is made of steel. Because that goddamn hunk of plastic lands in his palm every single time. Without fail.

My little brother is back, baby!

The next practice is pretty much the same. When we head out for our trip to Chicago, Coach watches us closely during the morning skate, his gaze narrowed. We scrimmage again, and Steiner blocks one, then lets another slip through, while Levi gets a shutout. I’m hoping that means Levi will get back in the game, but I’m disappointed.

Coach sticks with Steiner for the first period, and the very first challenge to the net ends with the Blackhawks getting one on the board. The crowd erupts when the lamp lights up, but Coach just crosses his arms over his chest and frowns.

“Come on,” I mutter under my breath, the commotion in here drowning me out. “Come on…”

Sven and I are waiting for our turn to hit the ice when Coach bops Levi on the shoulder.

“Get out there, Corolla.”

Levi moves like a gust of wind, unstoppable. The next two periods are a thing of beauty. Not only does Levi pull off another shutout, but Sven and I each manage to get a goal in. The captain even adds another assist to his tally. The hometown fans may not like it, but we sure do. We fucking love it.

Levi’s grin doesn’t fade as we celebrate with fist bumps, wishing the other team a good game. It sticks with him through the whole routine—removing pads, showers, and getting dressed.

When he gets called to the publicists area, he doesn’t flinch.

“Care to explain what’s been different for you tonight? What got you out of your funk?” a reporter from theChicago Sun-Timesasks.

Levi smirks. “Just needed a bit of that gritty city Chicago air, I guess.”

That smile says it all.

But as the celebrations buzz through Coach’s suite, I can’t shake the emptiness that comes with missing Ava. I realize I haven’t seen her around, and the thought hits me harder than I expect. Her massage schedule’s been packed lately—no surprise, considering our focus on beating Chicago and squeezing every bit of training in. But still, the fact that she’s not here after such a big win leaves a hole I can’t ignore. It stands out, sharp and painful, like something’s missing where it shouldn’t be.

Levi’s swamped with well-wishes from everyone, and Sven’s getting a pat on the back every few seconds. That leaves me with my other teammates.

“Hey, seen the masseuse around?” I ask, trying to keep it casual so I don’t raise any suspicions about how familiar I am with her.

“Nah, man, but she’s gotta be here somewhere,” the forward replies, grinning. “Great goal, by the way.”

“Thanks.” I move through similar conversations with a few other guys until I reach Cecille. “You seen our masseuse around?”

“She called it a night. Said she was tired,” the office manager says with a slight shrug. “You’re not having any pain, are you?”

“Oh, no. Just curious.”

I just need to let her know that the captain, the goalie, and I are all dying to have our wicked ways with her again. No big deal, right?

I join in the celebration for a bit, then start weighing whether I want to find her tonight or wait until the party’s over. But I don’t like putting things off, especially not when it comes to stuff like this. I’m nervous, sure, because I have high hopes, but the longer I wait, the worse I’ll feel if she says no. Might as well rip off the Band-Aid now.

If I’m lucky, we’ll have our next foursome sooner rather than later.

Now, it’s just a matter of finding her room. Cecille will have a list of room numbers, so all I need to do is track down Ava’s. The tricky part is doing it without making it obvious where I’m headed.

“Hey, Cecille, can you tell me which room Levi’s in? He told me to put in for a wake-up call for him tomorrow.”

“Oh, I can do that for him. What time?”

Well, shit.

“Uh, I need to drop by his room to shove something in there, too. I don’t know the number, though.” I remove my own credit card-looking key. “All he gave me was this.”

Cecille raising a delicately plucked black eyebrow. “Eric Schwartz, you’re not pulling a prank right now, are you?”