Page 55 of Revenge Puck

Nobody calls me names or even gives me the evil eye when I walk into the arena with Audrey, wearing Preston’s jersey.

The tickets he got for us today are almost as close as the first ones, which is insane.

“There they are!” Audrey says before we can even sit down.

I follow her pointed finger to the ice where Preston is skating toward Christian casually, and Christian, well, he pops one of the pucks up and then shoots it right at Preston’s head. He dodges it easily, though, and then they talk. Or yell at each other.

“I wonder what they’re talking about,” Audrey says as we finally squeeze past a few people to get to our seats.

“I’m not sure if I want to know. Hopefully, Preston stays calm.”

“He doesn’t look like he’s going to choke the life out of Christian, so that’s a good sign.”

I let out the breath I was holding when Preston skates off toward the tunnel leading to the locker room. Christian resumes shooting pucks toward the goal, one right after another, making about one in every three.

We watch him until my phone buzzes in the pocket of my jeans. Pulling the device out, I’m amazed to find a text from Preston when he should be preparing for the game.

Did you have any trouble getting your tickets?

Then another message quickly follows the first.Will you come say goodbye before we leave the arena?

I quickly text back,These seats are great! Thank you <3 And yes, I’ll come see you off. Now, shouldn’t you be listening to the coach giving the team a pep talk?

He says,Coach’s pep talk was short and sweet – Go kick their asses.

Good luck,I tell him along with a four-leaf clover.

Moments later, both teams are on the ice, the announcer introducing the Bobcats starting line. Then the National Anthem singer barely gets off the ice before the puck drops.

“Do Preston’s hits look even more vicious tonight?” I ask Audrey during the first period as another Bobcat gets plowed over.

“Oh yeah. He’s hangry. And I don’t mean hungry and angry.”

“Then what…”

“He’s obviously horny and angry,” she remarks, causing a burst of laughter to escape from me.

“Oh my god.”

“Well, it’s true, right? No Os for him. That man looks like he could really use one.”

“You’re ridiculous. He’s just determined to win the championships.”

“And determined to mow down every single one of our Bobcat clients.”

“Our clients?” I repeat before I look closer at the numbers of the home team being targeted. While I never really paid much attention to the guys who come and go from the salon, there are some familiar faces being smushed into the boards by Preston.

“No way,” I mutter.

“I guess he figured out a way to spread his rage around to multiple players. There go our clients. But at least it seems to be working for him,” she says just as the Warhawks score the first goal of the game.

Preston

“Another great game tonight, Lawrence,” Coach Ramsey says to me on the walk to the bus.

“Thanks, Coach.”

“Guess the rest of the guys will shave now that you proved facial hair doesn’t decide who wins or loses games.”

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