Page 87 of The Worst Pucking Deal

“They’re all like that sometimes,” Amy says with a shrug. “I swear they’re like kids on the ice. Sometimes all it takes is a glare and they refuse to back down.”

“Alphaholes,” I giggle, repeating her word from earlier.

I glance at Sawyer, my heart tightening with worry. I can’t shake the feeling that his behavior is somehow connected to the recent revelations about our marriage.

As the game progresses, the women continue to chat, but my mind is elsewhere, consumed by thoughts of Sawyer and the turmoil swirling between us.

“Good evening, ladies.” I’m so focused on what’s happening on the ice that I barely register the voice. “Are you enjoying the game?”

The second the voice registers, I become rigid. But this time, it’s not cold that spreads through my veins; it’s red-hot fury. How fucking dare he show his face? How dare he show up when Sawyer’s playing?

“Yeah, we are,” Sam says, answering Fabian’s question. Then she winces as Sawyer glares in our direction before ruthlessly pursuing an opponent.

“Do you mind if I sit with you?” Fabian asks, already moving toward me.

No one seems to think it’s weird that Fabian is here, in the family section so I don’t comment on it. Even though I know it’s frowned upon, I get up. “Take my seat. I was just leaving.”

Without looking back, I hurriedly walk away, doing my best not to block anyone. Most hockey arenas don’t allow spectators to get up during a game since it blocks the view of the fans behind you, which in turn puts them at risk of being hit by a puck. But fuck it, this is a special circumstance.

I hope Sawyer’s watching, seeing me leave Fabian in the dust where he belongs. Despite acting cool, my heart thunders in my chest. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to not feel at least some sense of panic whenever my ex husband is near.

As I look across the rink, my gaze locks with Sawyer’s, and he gives me a subtle nod. I breathe a sigh of relief, happy he saw me leaving the group. Maybe it’s too much to hope for, but I can’t help hoping he knows this is me choosing him. Now and always.

I watch the rest of the game standing. Though I’m alone, I don’t feel it. Not when Sawyer looks at me every chance he gets. It’s like a security blanket; comforting.

When the final buzzer sounds, signaling the end of the game, he skates off the ice with a smirk across his kissable lips. Despite the penalties and the physical toll, he looks happy about the win. As he should be. The Canadians are always favorites, but tonight the Sabertooths showed the league why they shouldn’t be underestimated.

I’m just about to leave when movement in my peripheral vision catches my attention. “Oh, my God!” I exclaim as Sawyer gracefully skates right for me.

Without missing a beat, he runs through the opening in the barrier. People have stopped moving, and when he takes me in his arms, dipping me before fusing our lips together, the spectators clap and whoop with excitement.

At first, I think he’s doing it for show. But the longer we kiss, I know it’s more than that. The chemistry between us can’t be fabricated any more than the passion and need in our kiss. And the kiss is one that could burn down forests and make the earth crack.

“My sweet bunny,” he rasps against my lips.

Winding my arm around his neck, I pull at his hair. “I love you, Sy.” I deliberately use my nickname for him, refusing to go back to a place where we act like strangers. “And I’m done with you ignoring me.”

He helps me back up, smiling widely. “Yes, ma’am,” he drawls, saluting me. As he looks at something—someone—behind me, his smile disappears. “What do you want?” His tone is no longer playful.

“I just came to congratulate you on your performance tonight,” Fabian says. His beady eyes shift between us like he’s trying to work something out.

Sawyer tries to push me behind him, but I stubbornly stay in place, refusing to hide from Fabian any longer. Canting my head, I stare at him through cold eyes. “Vattene.” Leave. “Levati dal cazzo. L’ordine del nostro Don è di lasciarmi in pace. Questo è il tuo ultimo avvertimento.” Get the fuck out of here. The orders of our Don are to leave me alone. This is your one and only warning.

Fabian narrows his eyes as his mouth opens and closes over and over. But he doesn’t say anything. Only stares at me like he’s imagining the ways he’d like to punish me for finally taking a stand.

“Cagna,” he spits, making me laugh.

“What did he say?” Sawyer asks, not taking his eyes off of Fabian.

Together we watch him retreat, and it’s not until he’s out of sight I answer. “He called me a bitch.”

Nodding, my husband looks down at me like that’s what he thought. “And what did you say, sweet bunny?”

Though I was expecting him to ask, I still gulp. Not because I don’t want to tell him, but because I’m scared he’ll get pissed at my answer. “I can’t tell you here,” I murmur. When he takes half a step back from me, I hurry to explain. “I’ll tell you the second we’re home, Sy. But…” Trailing off, I look around. “Not here.”

He looks around, obviously noticing the people still milling around. “The second we get home,” he growls, clearly feeling the need to clarify.

I suck my bottom lip between my teeth before letting it go with a deep exhale. “I promise.”

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