Page 25 of No Shot (The Toronto Tundra #2)

Penn

Okay, so I have a bit of a crush? So what.

I mean, I technically haven ’ t had a crush since I was like, I don ’ t know, fourteen and asked Julie Parker to homecoming.

Made a sign, bought the flowers and chocolate, and everything.

We dated for all of two months before she decided I was way too focused on hockey to pay enough attention to her.

Ever since then, it ’ s been nothing more than one night of fun with those of the opposite sex.

I ’ ve always considered myself a romantic at heart, but it just hasn ’ t been my reality.

Julie put it best. I ’ m ‘ like a locker crammed with junk—zero space for anything but me and my dumb hockey stick ’ .

Stung in the moment, but it ’ s true. Kinda stuck with me.

It ’ s just been easier to hook up with puck bunnies and live my best solo life, unaffected and unattached.

I mean, I never thought I ’ d be alone forever .

I want the whole shabang. Wife, kids, white picket fence, just wasn ’ t planning any of that before I hit thirty.

So why not have a little fun until then, ya know?

More than ever, though, the thought of companionship, support, endless love…

it ’ s all sounding pretty sweet even in this phase of my life.

The buzzer sounds, and I snap back into reality. FUCK. We ’ re down two-nothing and just can ’ t find our groove tonight. I ’ ve got to get my head in the game.

I grab the smelling salt, taking a deep inhale before—yup, that ’ ll do. I shake my head, trying to clear the feeling like my sinuses just got power-washed. All my senses are heightened like a lightning bolt to the brain, my adrenaline surging.

The first time I tried salts, no joke, it felt like my soul left my body and slammed back in. It ’ s what I ’ d imagine getting hit by a Mack truck feels like—except in your brain. It rocked me pretty good, but I ’ ve acclimatized now… kinda.

My antsy fingers tap against the board, waiting for my shot on the ice.

The second Connor Tucker hops onto the bench, I shoot off like a firecracker after the puck.

I ’ m halfway down the ice, chasing after one of the Avalanche players, when I spot an opening.

I circle behind their net, following one of their bigger defenders.

I ’ m faster, so I take the inside corner a lot sharper than him and end up with my stick blade grazing the puck, moving it out of his control.

The dude scowls, and I have just enough time to wink. Oop, he ’ s a big-fucker.

Varga. Must be some new trade for the Avalanche. I haven ’ t played him before, and now that we ’ re toe to toe, it ’ s hard to miss the five inches he ’ s got on me. Oh well.

I spin, cradling the puck against my stick before whipping it at the net.

Their goalie quickly catches it in their glove, of fucking course .

Makes sense. Obviously, my hat trick luck is over, and I ’ m back to being the guy who ’ s destined not to score.

The ref blows his whistle as Scott, Theo, and I circle up for the face-off.

The Avalanche defenseman bumps my shoulder as he skates by.

“Stay out of my way you little shit.” Original. His grating voice is thick with some sort of accent. Russian maybe? Is Varga a Russian last name? I don ’ t know. They don ’ t teach you these things in strategy meetings.

My eyes graze past the bench. Jack is standing on his feet, clearly monitoring our interaction.

He ’ s got major dad energy. Always the first to jump in to make sure I ’ m not in the line of fire, or sticking it to anyone who bothers me or anyone on our team, really.

He ’ s good like that, he ’ d do anything for the boys.

I give him a reassuring nod. I ’ m not shaken by some stupid chirping.

Not like he has much to worry about, I haven ’ t thrown a punch on the ice in years.

I ’ m not built for it, and I usually like to stay out of the scuffles.

We ’ re right in front of the family section seats in the lower bowl. Scott sends a quick smile toward Cami before lining up. The Russian notices.

“ That your girl?” Varga says, nodding his head right toward Cami and Bri. Scott doesn ’ t engage other than eyeing him with a warning stare. “ Think maybe she needs to have a little Slovak in her.” Ah, Slovak. Close enough. A douche either way.

He gives a wicked grin, leaning down, stick prepped to snap the puck back to his teammate.

I haven ’ t been on the team as long as some of the other guys, but even I know it takes a lot to rattle Cap.

I watch both men wait for the puck to drop, but Scott flinches, reacting too early.

The whistle blows, and he gets waved out by the ref.

That means I ’ m in. I advance, ready to take his place in the faceoff.

My eyes briefly catch the crowd, doing a double-take when I spot Bri.

I swear I ’ m not hallucinating, but I ’ m telling you, I saw the tiniest hint of a smile on her face.

I have to resist the urge to wave, but damn.

Was she smiling at me? Pride starts to swell in my chest.

“ She ’ s a lot hotter.” I barely register the words, still revelling in the brief flicker of Bri ’ s attention, but then— “Actually, I think I ’ ll have that one instead.

Looks like more fun.” That part lands hard, dripping with arrogance and malice.

Even with his thick accent, there ’ s no mistaking his meaning.

“ The fuck you just say?” I shout. My pulse spikes. Heat floods my chest. My head jerks toward Scott. He ’ s gripping his stick like his life depends on it .

Varga chuckles, and it scratches my soul like nails on a chalkboard. “ Wanna go?” The guy directs his goading toward Scott, who starts to move closer. I hold out my hand to stop him.

“ Let ’ s fucking go.” I surge forward, dropping my stick and shaking off my gloves. Varga is fully laughing, leisurely dropping his own gloves and holding up his fists. He got what he wanted, clearly. There ’ s no sizing up my competition, frankly, I don ’ t give a fuck. He ’ s a dead man.

“ Don ’ t, Penn.” Jack ’ s warning voice calls from the bench, riddled with concern. Too damn late for that. I ’ m seeing red. My eyes are filled with pure, unfiltered rage.

The sounds of the crowd drown out until I ’ m locked into the scene ahead of me. I take a wild swing, luckily landing a blow on his neck, bumping up his helmet. I ’ m honestly shocked my fist connected with anything.

The impact has my blood pressure spiking. I get hit on the side of my helmet, the sound rattling my brain. I grasp at anything—jersey, pads, helmet—wishing I practiced fighting more, but the whistle blows by some miracle, and we ’ re pulled apart.

Neither of us look too worse for the wear. I wish I had at least cracked his lip or something, but I ’ m conscious and barely hurting. That ’ s gotta count for something, right?

“ Thanks, Penn,” Cap calls to me as I make my way to the penalty box.

“ Don ’ t mention it.”

The rest of the game drags on, each minute feeling like a grind.

Theo somehow managed to take a clapper, nestling the puck into the tiniest lower left-hand pocket of the net, but that was our only goal for the night.

The scoreboard showed a close game, two to one, with almost equal shots on net, but yet again, I proved myself to be entirely useless.

I drag my feet into the locker room with the rest of the guys.

It ’ s usually a mixed bag of moods after an L.

Some guys move on fast, not wanting to dwell on the past, but others, like Theo, take it pretty hard.

I can always tell when he needs a bit of space, backed into his stall, lost in his thoughts.

I pop into the shower to clear my head before changing back into my game-day suit.

A few of us are ready to head out at the same time. “ Coming?” I call to Theo, who hasn ’ t moved apart from stripping out of his gear, down to only his compression shorts.

“ No,” he calls back, not looking up. “ Going to bike for a bit.” Did I tell you he was a beast, or what? Imagine playing an entire hockey game, then opting for another workout to cool off… The thought of having to lift my arm to push the elevator button right now sounds too draining.

“ Alright, don ’ t go too hard, man.” I slap his shoulder before leading the charge out. Damn, I ’ m tired. Disappointment flows through me. I thought I turned over a new leaf, but after today ’ s game, I dunno. Feels like my one successful game was a fluke.

I push open the locker room door and stop, a body slamming into my back at my sudden hesitation.

Bri.

The lump in my throat that ’ s been weighing me down since the final buzzer dissipates. The tension melts away from my shoulders. The corner of my lip starts to tug up.

She looks so pretty. I haven ’ t seen her in jeans before, the worn denim complementing her deep red cardigan. I can smell her from here. The sweetness I ’ ve grown used to, entering my senses, leaving nothing but warmth in its path.

“ Soup!” I call, barreling toward her. My body has a mind of its own as I wrap my arms around her, spinning her in the air.

She giggles, and my whole world bursts into color.

“ How ’ d it go?” I ’ ve been dying for news, but her exam was only supposed to finish a few minutes before warm-ups. I didn ’ t have time to check in.

“ Aced it,” she says, her voice steady and sure.

“ Fucking knew it.” I squeeze her tighter.

She ’ s a genius, without a doubt, so I knew she ’ d crush it.

I slowly let her body slip to the floor until we ’ re eye to eye.

For a moment, I forget where we are. For a moment, I just let my heart pound, staring into her mesmerizing eyes.

But she clears her throat, gets to her feet, and smooths out the front of her clothes.

Scott stares, trying to make sense of the scene unfolding.

Behind him, Jack looks equally as perplexed, but the corner of his mouth tugs up like he ’ s amused by our little moment of PDA.

Whatever, we ’ re friends. I ’ ve been thinking about her all day.

I couldn ’ t wait to hear how her test went…

It ’ s not like some big conspiracy or something.

“ You got in a fight,” she whispers, and if I didn ’ t know any better, I ’ d think she was concerned for me.

I shrug it off. “ Happens sometimes.” She looks entirely unconvinced.

“ Well, are you alright?” Okay, now, I ’ m not imagining things. There ’ s a worry in her tone.

“ Never better,” I reply with a smile. Not entirely true, considering the mood I was in a mere five minutes ago, but things are looking up.

“ Dibs on the next one!” Max shouts from behind me, barging into our moment and hugging Bri. She ’ s surprised, still quietly assessing me, but gives him a quick embrace.

“ Did you catch some of my hits from the second period? Wrecked some guys out there. What ’ d you think?” Max asks Bri.

“ Oh yeah, I saw them. Very manly.” The sarcasm is subtle enough that Max completely misses it, and I hold in my smile.

Jack is the next to give Bri a side hug, with nothing more than a “ Good to see you.” Respectful. Alright, I ’ ll allow it.

“ Bri!” Evan ’ s upbeat voice rings out, giving off his usual warm smile.

“ Hey, Evan,” she replies, cheerier than she ’ s ever been with me. This time, she ’ s the one to initiate a hug.

What is it? Free hug night? They ’ re going to get their cheap cologne smells all over my girl.

Err.

That girl.

Uh.

The girl?

Bri. All over Bri.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know…

I make my way back over to her, past Scott and Cami whispering to each other, and Jack and Mia holding hands, staring lovingly at one another.

Max and Evan are still trying to make conversation with Bri, each fighting to get words in, seemingly continuing their pissing match from our night out. I move between them, wrapping my arm around her waist, pulling her at my side.

Both of their eyebrows shoot up, spotting my hand position.

Yeah, that ’ s right. Back off, fuckers.

She ’ s mine.

Bri ’ s confused too, obviously. Come on, Soup, humor me just this once. I don ’ t give her time to pull away or interject.

“ I ’ ll walk you to your car.”

“ I drove with Cami.”

“ Come home with me.”

She gives me a look, half annoyed, half amused. It ’ s an odd sense of déjà vu, with this exact scenario reversed just a few days ago. Yeah, I know what I said. I ’ m supposed to say I didn ’ t mean it like that, but I do.

“ Whatever you ’ re thinking, Soup, I guarantee that ’ s exactly how I meant it,” I whisper, low enough for only her to hear.

The guys make space, allowing us to pass through the group.

Evan and Max throw me frustrated looks. Jealous losers.

While the rest of them stay blinking at us, confused by what they ’ re seeing. Yep, join the club.

I ’ m liking this little routine that ’ s forming. Bri coming to my games, and me getting to drive her home.

It ’ s nice.

Calming almost.

I could get used to this.