Page 22 of Pucked Up (Punk as Puck #2)

I almost choked on my own tongue. “Trust me, that’s not going to happen.”

“Listen, even if you are grieving,” Journey said, “if you have even a shred of desire for other men—which obviously you do—you will be tempted. He’s like a goddamn shark sensing blood in the water, okay? He goes right for the dick.” He made a motion like two jaws snapping together with his hands.

I reared back. “Have you both?—”

“Let’s not?—”

“We don’t have to—” they said at the same time.

Ben cleared his throat. “My point is, I’m happy to sign off on him missing whatever game might be the same weekend, and I’m happy to help provide funds for transportation or whatever since clearly he’s not driving.

But I’d like you to be careful. He’s an amazing friend so long as you don’t let him cross the line. ”

“Trust me. I’m not in danger of that,” I told them both. I doubted anyone could stir my cock besides Boden, and even he had been a surprise to me. At least with how fiercely I wanted him.

“Is it the dead husband thing?” Journey asked.

“ Journey ,” Ben hissed .

I waved my hand dismissively. “No, no. I’ve definitely had a lover or two since Reid.”

Journey stared at me, and then his eyes went wide. “Oh, you’re fucking someone now. Who is it? It’s a small town. People will find out.”

My face flamed so hotly I thought for a moment I was going to faint. “Euh…”

“For the love of—just leave him alone,” Ben said, shoving Journey back with his elbow. “Let someone have a few secrets around here.”

Journey looked annoyed, but he offered me an apologetic smile. “Sorry. It gets boring in tiny towns.”

If anyone understood that, it was me. But that didn’t mean I was going to tell him the truth. I mimed zipping my lips, and as disappointed as Journey looked, he let it go. I liked him for that alone.

The bill came shortly after, and in spite of their protests, I paid. “I meant to ask you to lunch to discuss the trip anyway.”

Ben bit his lip, then said, “Can we hang out again?”

“Oh.” That was a rare question. Most people found me dull and dry. “Are you sure?”

“I’m not hitting on you or anything.”

I burst into laughter. I didn’t mean to, but I wondered how often the poor bastard’s offer for friendship was misinterpreted. That had to be what happened between him and Micah.

“Yeah, I know. I’m a loser.” He started to reach for his dog’s harness, so I touched his wrist to stop him.

“You’re not. I’d love to get together again.

I don’t have a lot of friends. I’m not the most exciting person, and people get pretty disappointed when they realize I’m not some suave Frenchman with a dozen sexy stories of fucking models and…

I don’t know. Whatever other people think Parisians do.

” They both stared at me. “I’m not Parisian. ”

It was obvious that meant nothing to them, but Journey grinned, and Ben settled back in his seat, looking relieved. “We do poker a couple times a month,” Journey said. “Movie nights when the theater does audio captions, which happens, like, twice a year.”

“It’s annoying, but—” Ben started to add.

“No,” I told them quickly. “That sounds nice. My therapist would want me to get out. The only person I talk to besides my team is my husband’s brother, and he can’t stand me.”

“Sounds like you know a lot of people with very bad judgment,” Ben said as he reached for his dog again. This time, I didn’t stop him. He stood and commanded his dog up, then stretched one arm above his head. “Shoot me a text when you’re free, yeah?”

“And me,” Journey said, sounding like he didn’t want to be left out. “If you get bored of whatever you’ve got going on in your sheets, I can introduce you to a few people. No hockey guys, of course.”

“Of course,” I said. My words felt like they were stuck in the back of my throat.

How long would these friends last if they knew the truth?

I’d forgotten how much coaching was more than just standing at the edge of the ice watching my players lead themselves in a game I really had no skill at. I’d gotten proficient enough to push Reid around on the ice, but God help us all if anyone depended on me and my skates.

I didn’t mind being stuck in my office though. It was quiet there, but not the pressing quiet of my still unfamiliar apartment, where nothing felt like home. Everything there still smelled faintly like the plastic wrap it had all come in, and the food tasted wrong.

It wouldn’t last. I knew that much. I’d been plagued with that feeling every time Reid and I had to switch homes, but this was…different, and I couldn’t put my finger on why.

Tapping my pen, I looked down at my playbook and attempted to focus, but it felt impossible. Guilt was weighing on me. Not for moving on but for standing in the way. I wanted to make Boden a better player, but the arrogance I felt, the belief that I could do it with my dick, was something new.

And crossing lines I’d drawn myself wasn’t something I was used to.

When he came out of the fog and stepped into the PPHL, would he forgive me?

“Knock knock?”

I looked up to find Tucker hovering in my doorway. He seemed a little nervous, rocking back and forth as he leaned most of his weight on his walking cane.

“Come in. There’s a chair a few feet in front of you.”

He nodded. I knew he could see better since his surgery, and he didn’t miss the chair as he grabbed the back and lowered himself down. I hadn’t seen him in a while. He was transitioning into his coaching job, and I knew he was getting ready to hand in his A since he was playing less.

“Something I can help you with?”

He was quiet for a beat, and then he said, “You know how this shit—community league or professional, it doesn’t matter—they’re all like a knitting circle.”

I frowned. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Gossip,” he said.

I sat back. Shit. Did he know? Did everyone? Had Boden been telling people? It was hard to imagine he’d willingly give up the secret of us, considering the mountain of shit he’d given me as his coach.

“Alright,” I said slowly when Tucker didn’t expand his thoughts.

“Look, I just need to know that you and Bodie’s dad aren’t bribing anyone in the league to get him a spot. I think he’d take it”—he leaned over his thighs—“but he’d literally spiral into a puddle of viscera and goo if he got the position because of his dad. You know that guy? Right?”

“We’ve met,” I admitted .

Tucker sat back with a groan. “The guy is a class A douche bag. I don’t know if you know those words?—”

“I don’t live under a rock,” I said flatly.

He blinked, then snorted. “Yeah, okay. Fair. But you know what I mean, right? He thinks his balls are smooth and his asshair smells like roses.”

I tried not to grimace at the mental images. “I…suppose, yes. He does come across as arrogant.”

“I mean, he was a mediocre player at best. And you want to know what I think?” I had a feeling he was going to tell me anyway, so I didn’t answer.

“I think the fucker shits himself every time he thinks about how Boden would be better than him on two skates if he had the ability, and that drives him nuts. He can be actually comfortable about losing his fuck-ass hockey family legacy or whatever because he’ll never be outplayed by his own son, and I think he likes that. ”

I bit my lip. I knew there were issues, but this was…a lot.

“And I think that drives him nuts because he was never able to break any of his dad’s records, and Bodie’s granddad was also a mediocre fuckface.”

“I never did look too closely at their stats,” I confessed. I braced myself for his anger.

Tucker just scoffed. “Probably better if you don’t.

But seriously, I need to know if the shit everyone is saying is true and Bodie’s going to get in because of his dad’s bribery and whatever bullshit.

I mean, I don’t know how you fit into this.

Like, are you a secret billionaire who funds the entire PPHL, or… ”

I laughed. “I’m most definitely not.” I had more money than I knew what to do with, considering everything Reid left me, but I didn’t live on it. At some point, I’d probably donate most of it. It felt like blood money.

“Okay. So…”

“It’s not true,” I interrupted him. I wasn’t ready to talk about Reid with him.

Tucker was kinder than he’d been when I first met him, but he wasn’t someone I trusted with my most tender secrets.

“I have the connections to get scouts to see him play, but Boden will have to get in on his own merits.” I also wasn’t going to tell him I’d already gotten offers for Boden.

“Obviously, it’s more difficult, considering his record and his age?—”

“Bro. He can skate circles around these fucking teenagers.”

“I’m not arguing that,” I said, throwing up my hands in surrender. “His talent is quite unmatched.”

“And the Paralympics thing was all me—and a little bit Ford. Like, you get that, right? He was coming off a really shitty fight with his dad, and I wanted out of there. I felt like all that attention was going to flay me alive, and I was being a selfish prick and didn’t want to go down alone. I regret it so much.”

I believed him. His tone was heavy with his guilt. “It won’t be held against him forever. If he can keep his attitude toward me in check—at least in front of people who matter—he won’t have a problem getting offers.”

“I’ll talk to him.”

I sighed and shrugged. “It’s alright. I think he and I have come to an understanding.” Tucker raised a brow at me. “Mostly.”

He snorted. “Yeah. I mean, that’s basically Bodie. He will fight. He will make it bloody. But he knows what he wants, and he’s not going to fuck up again. He already made that mistake once.”

My heart sped up a few beats. It shouldn’t have been so sexy, but it was. Christ, I was in trouble. “I trust him to do what he needs to do.”

Tucker’s jaw tightened, and he stood, taking a step back before pausing. “You actually give a shit about him, don’t you?”

I nodded.

His head tilted to the side. “Okay, but…why? Respectfully, because I love him more than I love myself most days, but he doesn’t usually inspire this kind of faith or kindness in people. That’s usually Ford’s job.”

I smiled. Ford was kind of the team marshmallow, even if he was also a bit of a goblin. “I see potential in him. Not just in hockey but as a person. He’ll be okay.”

Something in Tucker seemed to unknot. His shoulders sagged, and he breathed a little deeper. “You get him.” He bit his lip, then said, “Most people don’t.”

That made my heart ache. “Someone will. ”

“I hope so. Thanks again. Oh, and, uh, if you want a second A, go for Coop. He’s a good guy.” He shot me finger-guns, clicking his tongue a few times, then slammed the door hard on his way out.

Sitting back, I allowed myself to feel the silence of the room, and then I grabbed my phone off my desk and opened up a text thread that only had a handful of messages in it. And none were particularly kind. But I ignored them all and scrolled to the short thread I had with Boden and began to type.

Me: You inspire a lot of love in your friends, Boden. And you inspire things in me I didn’t expect.

Boden: Don’t fucking get sentimental. Get horny.

Me: I can do that. Do you need to unwind?

Boden: My dad called. I could use a break, but Tucker and Deo will be here tonight.

Me: Do you want to come here?

Boden: I don’t want to impose. And anyway it’s not a good idea…

Boden: Is it?

Me: You already know what my answer would be, petit feu. I’ll send you my address and you can decide what yours is.

Boden: Uh. Thanks, I guess?

Me: Any time.