Page 27 of Pucking Curves

“Archer, I…”

“Please,” he says, the word soft. Pleading.

I don’t tell him no. I can’t. Not when I’m realizing that we want the same damn thing. I’m just the one afraid to reach for it.

“Okay,” I whisper, reaching anyway.

His answering smile is worth the leap.

Chapter Seven

Archer

“Coachisademon,”River groans at practice early the next morning, falling onto the bench beside me. He drags his helmet off, reaching for his water bottle. “Fucking hell. I’m exhausted.”

“Tapia!” Coach shouts at Diego as a puck whizzes by him, slamming into the back of the net. “Get your head out of your ass. Don’t piss me off, kid!”

“He isn’t a demon. He’s Satan.” Jordan mutters, collapsing beside him. “Jesus Christ. Who pissed him off this morning?”

“That’d be Logan,” Nash says, kicking a wayward puck toward him across the box. “He’s always pissing Lariat off.”

“Fuck all of you. It’s not my fault.”

For once, he’s right. I glance over at River to see him staring blankly at the ice, his expression grim. He knows he’s the reason Coach is pissed. He’s fucking our publicist, Alice.

Apparently, Coach caught them making out in her office this morning.

I did not want to be involved in that meeting when I got here. Matter of fact, I never want to be involved in meetings around here. It’s always some bullshit. And I’m always expected to step in and help handle it. Sometimes, being the captain sucks. Donkey balls.

River is an idiot who has made a career out of fucking everything that moves. This time feels different though. He’s falling for Alice. It was written all over his face in that meeting. And he doesn’t have a fucking clue what to do about it. I don’t think she does either.

Coach wants them to stay away from each other, and I get where he’s coming from. Really, I do. The last thing we need is for the world to find out that a member of the team—one constantly in the press for his shitty choices—is fucking our publicist. But I saw the storm brewing in River’s eyes as soon as Coach demanded it. He isn’t going to stay away from her. Because, out of everyone, she’s the one who matters.

“Shouldn’t you three be on the ice?” I ask Jordan, Nash, and Logan.

They bitch and grumble before hauling themselves over the boards onto the ice. River makes like he’s going to follow them.

“Hold back a minute,” I murmur.

“Fuck.” He settles back against the bench again, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Coach already jumped my shit, Graves. I don’t need to hear it from you too.”

“Good because that’s not what’s about to happen.”

He eyes me sideways, surprise written all over his face.

“You aren’t going to take his advice, are you?”

He doesn’t confirm or deny. He says nothing.

“That’s what I thought, which is why we’re having this conversation now. Alice isn’t another puck bunny.”

“I fucking know that,” he growls, scowling at me like he wants to hit me. “It’s not like that with us.”

At least he recognizes it.

“If you want to keep her, you need to get your shit together, man,” I murmur, not mincing words with him. River isn’t the kind of guy who listens to subtle. He needs a hammer blow to get through his hard ass head. “You’ve spent the last five years of your career turning yourself into an asshole that I’m guessing not even you actually like. You fuck around and drink and pretend nothing matters because it’s easier than dealing with your trauma. But she let you in anyway. She gave you a chance you don’t particularly deserve. If she matters to you, deal with your shit, River. It’s the only way this ends the way you want it to end because she’s not a puck bunny. She won’t settle for bullshit.”

He grits his teeth, glaring straight ahead.

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