Page 37 of Puck Sweat Love

It’s a good night to be alive with a man who makes silence feel easy.

I don’t push him, sensing he’ll speak when he’s ready.

Sure enough, about ten minutes in, he says, “I saw Garcia, the backup goalie, talking to the assistant General Manager outside the arena last night. I know it sounds paranoid as hell,but Stone warned me that Garcia has his sights on me. And Hartley, the assistant GM…” He trails off, his jaw working before he adds, “Let’s just say he’s made it clear he doesn’t think guys like me deserve second chances.”

“Guys like you?” I echo.

Tank’s steps slow and his expression tightens. “Guys with a history of substance abuse. Guys who fucked up their first shot at the big leagues by getting high and wandering into the street in front of a drunk driver.”

My breath catches—the thought of him being hit by a car affecting me in a visceral way. “Oh my God, Tank. That’s intense. I’m so glad you’re okay.”

He stops beside me, his brows drawing together as he asks, “Did you really not google me?”

My pulse picks up. “No, I didn’t. But Ididask Bree about you. She mentioned that you’d been through some stuff, but she wasn’t specific. She was trying to respect your privacy while also...” I bite my lip as my cheeks heat. “While also making sure I knew what I was getting into if I decided to date you. I’m sorry if that feels like I went behind your back. It was the night we kissed for the first time, after the food trucks. I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t a mistake to have the feelings I was starting to have for you.”

To my surprise, his features soften with understanding instead of irritation. A confession like that would have had Drake fuming, but he just murmurs, “You don’t need to apologize. I get it. Stone and I were talking last night about what pieces of shit most men are. You’re smart to be careful.” He frowns as he adds in a gruffer voice, “And you should have googled me. Your safety is more important than my privacy. I could have been a serial killer.”

I smile, more charmed than I can remember being in a long time. “You’re not a serial killer.”

“No, but I’m…problematic,” he says with a sigh.

“No, you’re not. You’re Tank, and I think you’re pretty great. I’m sure Hartley will, too. Just give him time, and a chance to get to know you. You’ll make a good impression, no doubt in my mind.”

“I appreciate that. A lot.” He stretches his neck to one side, rubbing at the tight muscle there. “But I’m no angel, Teach, especially when it comes to romantic relationships. The only woman I was ever serious about…” He clears his throat. “I fucked things up with her. Big time.”

My brows drift up my forehead. “Yeah?”

“Long story short, I made her promises, broke those promises, betrayed her trust, and by the time I finally pulled my head out of my ass and tried to get her back, she was pregnant with another man’s baby.”

I wince. “Ouch.”

“Yeah. He was an asshole and a criminal and dragged Michelle down with him. Eventually, they both ended up in prison for dealing, though I doubt she had much to do with it.” His gaze remains fixed on the ground between us as he adds, “Their kid ended up in the system.”

“That’s a really sad story,” I say softly.

“It is.” He runs a hand over his hair to curl around the back of his neck. “And if I hadn’t broken her heart and my word, none of that would have happened. She’d still have a life, a future.”

“Hey.” I reach for his free hand, twining my fingers through his. “You can’t blame yourself for other people’s choices, Tank. It’s not your fault that she chose the wrong rebound guy.”

“No, but I wasn’t there when she needed me. And after all that went down…” He squeezes my hand. “That’s when I really started to spiral. You don’t want to know how many pills I was taking every day by the time I finally realized I had to get clean. I’m lucky I didn’t end up in prison myself. Or dead.”

Silence settles between us again, a much less comfortable one this time. I honestly don’t know what to say. My relatively sheltered life hasn’t given me a whole lot of context for this kind of thing.

Finally, I ask, “How long have you been clean?”

“Two and a half years.”

“Are you in a recovery program?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, that didn’t work for me. I’m not a joiner. I just made a choice to stop and did it. Cold turkey.”

“Impressive,” I whisper.

He shrugs. “Not really. It was hard as hell at first. Messy. Ugly. But then, I got into coaching kids, then adults, then other pro players. I started rebuilding my skills and realized I might still have a shot at the NHL. Aiming myself at that took me a long way. Then, eventually, I woke up one day and realized I was never going back to that dark place. Not ever again.” His thumb traces circles on my palm. “So…what do you think? If you’d rather just be friends after all that, it’s okay. I wouldn’t blame you. Or be a little bitch about it.”

A smile curves my lips as I squeeze his fingers. “You’re the farthest thing from a ‘little bitch.’ Seriously.” I take a beat, composing my thoughts, wanting to meet his honesty with as much of my own as possible. “So, here’s what I think… Your past is part of your story, for sure, but it’s not who you are. I see how much you care about living your life with integrity and kindness, Tank.” He frowns, but I push on, insisting, “Youarekind. The way you interact with the other students, with Mr. Sniffles, with me...” I cup his stubbled cheek in my hand. “You’re a good man trying to live a life you can be proud of in the here and now.That’swho you are. That’s the guy I admire and love spending time with.”

His eyes lock with mine, dark and intense in the fading light. “You’re the fucking sweetest, you know that?”

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