Puck Your Feelings

Lesson one: Don’t roast your new teammate on a hot mic. Lesson two: Don’t fall for him in a cabin built for one.

Becker Accidentally broadcasting my unfiltered commentary about Kane Marcus’s “personality-free” press conference to 700K people wasn’t my finest moment. Getting assigned as his roommate immediately after? The universe has a sick sense of humor. Kane’s got more issues than Sports Illustrated and a father with enough power to make or break careers. He’s the hockey world’s golden boy—talented, controlled, and thoroughly straight. I’m the chaos gremlin who just turned him into a meme. We’re supposed to become the...

Lesson one: Don’t roast your new teammate on a hot mic. Lesson two: Don’t fall for him in a cabin built for one.

Becker Accidentally broadcasting my unfiltered commentary about Kane Marcus’s “personality-free” press conference to 700K people wasn’t my finest moment. Getting assigned as his roommate immediately after? The universe has a sick sense of humor. Kane’s got more issues than Sports Illustrated and a father with enough power to make or break careers. He’s the hockey world’s golden boy—talented, controlled, and thoroughly straight. I’m the chaos gremlin who just turned him into a meme. We’re supposed to become the team’s defensive core. Instead, we’re one cabin fire away from homicide. At least that’s what I tell myself while trying not to stare at him doing his elaborate morning routine. Or when our legs touch during ice baths. Or that night I definitely, absolutely should not have been awake when he thought I was sleeping… Turns out the line between wanting to fight someone and actually wanting them is thinner than I thought. And I’m about to cross it in a spectacularly stupid way.

Kane I transferred to escape my father’s shadow. Instead, I got Becker—a podcasting menace who turns everything into content and makes me feel things I’ve spent twenty-four years not feeling. About anyone. Especially not men. But a tiny cabin does things to a person. Things like noticing how Becker’s chaos somehow makes sense. How his smile makes my carefully controlled world tilt sideways. How badly I want to kiss the smirk off his face after he calls me a “hockey robot” for the thousandth time. When we finally stop fighting long enough to kiss, everything changes. But my father doesn’t do change—he does ultimatums. One hot-mic incident later, and he’s threatening to blacklist Becker from the league.

And I’m about to break his heart to save it.