Page 219 of Playing the Pucking Game

What if I’d let him do more? Would he have rolled his hips like that as he filled me up?

I startle when an arm drapes around my shoulders.

“Hey, how’s it going?” Brooke asks without a care in the world.

The second I look over, she must be able to read the torment in my eyes, because her face falls.

“Shit, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I lie. “Everything is fine. It’s just been a long day. What are you doing down here?”

“Just getting some footage. Gonna try and speak to a couple of the guys before the puck drop, if they let me.” I smirk, more than aware of how superstitious hockey players can be. She might just be out of luck there.

“Awesome. Don’t let me stop you,” I say, stepping back to allow her to pass.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Absolutely.” I force a smile on my face, hoping that she doesn’t know me well enough yet to be aware that it’s fake.

Before long, our first line guys are out on the ice, and Fletch is facing off against our opponents’ forward, waiting for the puck to drop.

We’ve already beaten the Blackhawks this season, and they’re floundering toward the bottom of the division. They’re going to be coming out fighting.

We can take them, though. I might have a lot of questions spinning around my head right now, but I don’t doubt that the Vipers are going to come out on top tonight.

And just to prove me right, less than three minutes into the first period, Linc manages to get a breakaway and shoots the puck right between their goalie’s legs, earning his first goal of the evening.

Pride shoots through me as his teammates surround him on the ice.

I shout and scream along with everyone else, completely swept up in the moment as I celebrate my team.

I forget about everything troubling me—or at least, I do until the guys let him up and he immediately looks at the bench, searching, almost in a panic. But the second he finds me, he relaxes.

His smile hits me like a truck, and I take a step back as he moves closer.

As he taps his glove against his teammates’ on the bench, his eyes never leave mine.

My heart pounds and my hands tremble.

This is bad.

Really fucking bad.

And it only gets worse.

By the time the buzzer sounds, Linc has managed his first hat trick of the year, and the Vipers’ fans are going wild, chanting his name, while the Blackhawks fans have already mostly left after a painful three-to-zero loss.

While the guys continue their victory laps, I disappear to the trainers’ room to hide.

I already know I won’t see Linc for a while; he’ll be heading off to do press with Fletch and Coach after that incredible performance. But I have plenty of other players who are going to be needing massages, ice baths, and a whole lot of other things before I’m able to leave.

Not that I’ll get much relief because we’ll be on an airplane and heading to our next city before I have a chance to blink.

Maybe everything will be simpler in Texas.

Maybe I’ll find some clarity and answers to all my problems.

I might have my back to the door when Linc finally emerges, but I know he’s there the second a round of cheers erupts across the room.