Page 106 of My Pucking Crush

In Richmond’s case it’s an F5 tornado.

In the spirit of sport, I want to be happy for them. There’s a reason we shake hands before and after the game. Your rival on the ice one day can be your neighbor in the locker room the next.

The game ends, the scoreboard flashing the Crushers defeat. Richmond hugs each other, the entire bench emptying onto the ice to celebrate.

Triumphant music blasts from the speakers. I leave the ice and look at the bright side. We could win the series back in Stamford.

Christ, I’m so happy we’re flying home tonight. I need to sleep in my own bed with my hot Russian bodyguard.

FIFTY-SEVEN

Luca

We land back in Connecticut close to midnight after the bitter Richmond win. I’m walking Max to his car, when he gets a call.

“Fuck, I have to take this.” He stops in his tracks. “Hi, Mom. What?When?Mom, I can’t just leave. It’sthe playoffs. You’d know that if—” He holds the phone away from his ear, as yelling on the other end grates my nerves.

I open the car door for him like I’d been doing for months. This time when our hands touch, he yanks his away.

His parents trigger him. Fuck.

Meanwhile, I’m keyed up about the Jake Quinn intel, but Ican’tshare it with him.

Max shakes his head and says he’ll call his mother back. Shoving the phone into his pocket, he gets in the car, but doesn’t say a word.

We drive for a while, and finally, Max’s hand drifts to my thigh. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” I glance at him. “I’ll forgive you if you blow me.”

He laughs. “I would have done that anyway.”

I love that I got him tolovegiving blowjobs.

“Can we stop at the waterfront?” His words raise alarm bells in my head.

“Plan to throw me in?”

“No.” He squeezes my leg. “You’d swim right back to the shore and break into my apartment, wouldn’t you?”

“Da,” I answer. “But it’s late. I’d rather keep yousafe in your penthouse.”

Max exhales and stares straight ahead, not arguing with me.

We reach his apartment building, and he immediately slogs to the windows that face the downtown harbor. Max’s head hangs low, fingers rubbing his eye sockets. My feet move toward him before my brain tells them to stop. A fire ignites in my gut seeing him emotionally struggle through so much pain.

He’s mine and I can’t have this.

“What happened, baby?” I cup his shoulder. “What did your mother want? Something with your brother?”

As far as I know, Max wired the ten grand to bail out his brother, but the fucker never called him to discuss legal fees. How dare they abuse this amazing man?

“My high school coach died.” Max shifts on his heels. “Coach Avalon.”

“Hockey coach?” My brows furrow together.

“Yeah,” he says with a laugh. “It’s only ever been hockey.”

He squeezes my hand with the kind of grip that signals he’ll let go a second later.

---