Page 47 of The Worst Pucking Deal

Though it isn’t, this almost feels like my first game. The other times I’ve watched, I’ve always felt like the spectator I was, and this time… this time it felt different. Don’t get me wrong, I love the game and the organization, but I wasn’t in love with it. Not until now.

Sawyer

The energy in the locker room is electric, pulsing with the high of victory. The Sabertooths have emerged triumphant once again, and the sense of elation is palpable among the team. As we gather around Coach, there’s a buzz of excitement in the air, a shared sense of accomplishment that binds us together as a unit.

“Great game, boys!” Coach booms, his voice echoing off the walls of the locker room. “That was a hard-fought win, and each and every one of you played your hearts out on the ice tonight.”

The room erupts into cheers and applause; the sound reverberating off the walls as we celebrate our victory. High-fives and fist bumps are exchanged all around, smiles stretching from ear to ear as we relish in the sweet taste of success.

To some, it means more to win a home game, but that’s not how I see it. Winning on our turf is just how it should be. Beating another team in their home, that’s the sweetest victory of them all. Still, none of that matters as I celebrate with my teammates.

Coach’s eyes scan the room, his expression one of pride and satisfaction. “But let’s not get complacent, boys,” he continues, his tone serious now. “We’ve got a tough road ahead of us, and we need to stay focused if we want to come out on top.” I roll my eyes while smiling wider. Of course, the old bastard would use a win to remind us we’re not unbeatable. That’s just how he rolls.

My teammates all nod in agreement, a shared determination to keep pushing forward and striving for the ultimate reward. Despite the exhaustion that lingers in our bones, there’s a fire burning within each of us, driving us to keep pushing, keep fighting, keep winning. This team, this brotherhood, is something special, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

“Right, I’m going home to fuck my wife,” Henry, our right defender, says.

“Hell yeah,” Peter chimes in.

The two of them are always vocal about how much they crave sex after a win—hell, we all do. In the past, I usually found a puck bunny or two to celebrate with, but tonight I won’t be doing that. My thoughts stray to Lucia, and the image of her sitting among the other girlfriends and wives during the game flashes through my mind. I wasn’t prepared for just how hot she’d look wearing my team’s color and my number. Really. Fucking. Sexy.

Distracted by my thoughts, I almost run into the group of women waiting for their men. “Sawyer,” Amy greets me. “You played great tonight. Well, not as amazing as Peter, obviously.”

“Obviously,” I chuckle in agreement.

“I wanted to say I got to sit with Lucia. She’s so sweet. You’re going to bring her around more often now, right?”

Speaking of the woman in question, I look up and my eyes lock on the stunning redhead the world believes to be my girlfriend—fuck, fiancée. Her green eyes have a hazy quality to them. She wobbles slightly while biting down on her bottom lip. I wonder if she’s been drinking, or if she, like me, is high on the atmosphere.

I don’t even excuse myself, I just leave Amy right there and push my way over to Lucia. The closer I get, the more I feel the pull. We’re still looking right at each other, and the moment I reach her, she throws her arms around my neck while I pull her into me.

“Sawyer,” she breathes.

Slamming my lips down on hers, I steal her words. I slide my tongue into her mouth, kissing her hard. Hmm, I don’t taste alcohol, so she’s definitely not drunk. She moans into my mouth and fists the lapels of my suit jacket. It’s the first time I’ve kissed her for real, and fuck me, Lucia is an epic kisser. Seriously, if I’d known she was this good, I’d have done it a long time ago.

We’re interrupted by Mickey, Soren, and other teammates as they burst from the locker room. “Hey we’re going to celebrate, right?” Soren asks.

“Lead the way,” another guy says. “The usual place?”

I tear myself away from Lucia. “Let’s go,” I say, wrapping my arm around her so she has no choice but to follow.

We end up going to Magnitude, the club we always go to after a home game. Amidst the pulsating lights and throbbing music of the club, the celebration for our victory reaches a fever pitch as more teammates join us, their raucous laughter filling the air as we settle into the VIP section.

Soren raises his glass. “When’s the big day, Sawyer?”

Mickey chimes in, his grin wide. “Yeah, spill the beans, man. Don’t leave us hanging.”

I chuckle, feeling the effects of the alcohol warming my veins. “Who says there’s a big day? Maybe we already tied the knot.”

Lucia’s eyes twinkle mischievously as she leans in, playing along. “Oh, you didn’t hear? We had a secret ceremony last week. Just the two of us and a bottle of tequila.”

Everyone howls with laughter. “Seriously?” our backup goalie asks, shoving the woman in his lap away. “Are you two already married?”

“No,” Lucia answers, winking.

As the adrenaline of the game still courses through my veins, I find myself unable to shake the comments from Mickey and Soren echoing in my mind. The weight of their words are on a loop in my mind, mingling with the euphoria of victory and the alcohol in my system.

It’s more than that. Everyone sees me as an irresponsible forever-bachelor. I’m known as the bunny chaser, Mr. Fuck-Em-And-Leave-Em, the Sabertooths’ Casanova, and whatever else the press have called me. Though it’s never bothered me in the past, now that I’ve distanced myself from it and taken a good look at my life, it does. It makes me seem unreliable; the sponsors are right about that, and it fucking stings if I’m being honest.

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