Page 46 of The Worst Pucking Deal

Jo nods, her eyes pleading for understanding. “I know it was wrong, Lucia, and I’m sorry. But I was just trying to do what I thought was best for you.”

I take a moment to process Jo’s words, feeling a mix of gratitude and resentment swirling inside me. It’s clear that Jo was only trying to look out for me, but I can’t help but wish she had been more upfront with me from the beginning. How fucking ironic when my life is nothing but one lie after another.

Yeah, I really don’t have a moral high ground at all. I’m willingly whoring myself out for my freedom, all while pushing away my best friend, and deceiving everyone who comes into contact with me. What a fucking treat I am.

“But I hope you know how proud of you I am,” Jo continues, pulling me out of my thoughts.

“Huh?”

She nods eagerly. “Yes, it’s a big step. But I have to ask, are you okay with living with him?”

I rub my fingers against my temples and exhale slowly. “Yeah, I am. We’ve already discussed it, and I’m moving into his place.”

“Okay,” she says. Then turns her laptop back toward her and begins to write something. “I’ll make sure a moving company comes to your place on Monday. You should probably stay at Sawyer’s until then to keep up pretenses. But I’ll have people at yours on Monday at noon to help pack up your stuff and get it all moved.”

Shaking my head, I decline her offer. “That won’t be necessary. I don’t want to leave my roommate with nothing. All I need are my personal belongings.”

“Nonsense,” Jo says, waving me off. “It’s not up for discussion. The two of you need to be at your apartment at noon.”

The day passes by in a haze. Although I’m not physically packing boxes, my mind is constantly buzzing with lists and mental catalogs of the items I’ll take with me tomorrow. It’s not until mid-afternoon that I remember I promised to text Sawyer, and when I do, his reply is almost instantaneous.

Sawyer: Glad to hear it’s all sorted. You doing alright?

I frown at the text. He shouldn’t be asking me that. We both know that what’s happening between us is nothing more than an arrangement we’re both benefiting from. Sure, he doesn’t know what I’m getting out of it. Then again, considering I’ve now freaked out on him twice, it’s not that odd he’s asking. I really need to get my shit together fast.

Me: I’m fine.

Sawyer: Then stop frowning.

I look up from my phone and turn my head, but I don’t see him anywhere.

Sawyer: Don’t forget to wear my number tonight!

With a sigh, I tug my phone away and grab the package that was delivered a few days ago. Then I go to the bathroom to change into something a little less business-like and a lot more girlfriend-like.

The custom-ordered, tight, low-neck sweater fits me like a glove. It’s made in the Sabertooths’ color and has their logo on the front and Sawyer’s number on the back. With my dark jeans and ankle boots, I’m pretty sure I’m looking the part. After touching up my makeup, I pull a sharpie out of my bag and draw Sawyer’s number on my cleavage. There, now there can be no doubt about who I’m there to support.

Before leaving the bathroom, I text Gail. I don’t know if she’s seen the interview since I still haven’t heard from her, but I owe her to hear it from me, too. As with all the other texts, it shows as read almost immediately, but no reply comes through.

When it’s finally time, I make my way into the arena, taking my seat among the other girlfriends and wives, who greet me with big smiles and cheers. At first I was really nervous about having to sit with them, but the way they welcome me instantly puts me at ease.

“I never thought I’d see the day one of these seats was taken by Sawyer’s girlfriend.” The woman speaking grins widely.

“Seriously. I’m glad we didn’t have bets going, or I’d have lost everything,” another jokes.

Grinning, I reply, “Trust me, even while living it I would have been betting against us.” That earns me a loud round of laughs, making it even easier to be around them.

The arena fills with excited chatter and the shuffling of feet, bringing the atmosphere alive with anticipation. The hum of conversation grows louder, punctuated by bursts of laughter and the occasional roar of excitement. Fans clad in team jerseys and scarves stream in, their faces painted in team colors, adding to the vibrant tapestry of the crowd.

The energy in the air is palpable as the countdown to game time draws near. The lights dim, and a hush falls over the crowd as the familiar strains of the national anthem echo through the arena, accompanied by the fluttering of flags and the sound of applause.

As the anthem fades into silence, the tension mounts, building to a crescendo as the players take to the ice. When Sawyer comes onto the ice, skating a circle around Mickey and Soren before shoulder bumping them, I jump to my feet and chant his name along with the fans.

Sawyer scans the stands, and when his eyes land on me, he smirks. I turn around to show him his number printed on the back of the sweater. Then I spin again, pointing at my cleavage. I’m not disappointed by his reaction when his eyes widen and he licks his lips. My breath hitches as our eyes lock, making it feel like we’re the only people here.

Our bubble bursts as the roar of the crowd swells to a deafening height as the puck drops, signaling the start of the game. With a flurry of skates and sticks, the players race across the ice, the intensity of the game unfolding before our eyes.

In that moment, as the game begins in earnest, the arena pulses with energy and excitement, uniting fans in a shared passion for the sport. As I watch from the stands, caught up in the thrill of the moment, I can’t help but feel a sense of belonging—a part of something bigger than myself, even if it’s just for tonight. What a fucking high.

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