Page 46 of Pucking Rebound

“Any ideas what that would look like or do I have free reign?”

“I trust you.”

I break out in a sweat. He really shouldn’t trust me, especially around his assistant.

Drawing an invisible circle with my hips, left and then right, I smirk watching Wade do the same thing he does before every game. He picks up the photo of him and the woman who raised him out of his cubby, mutters something, kisses it, then puts it back.

I’m superstitious like all of the guys, and I do always kiss my stick and the ice before every game. Something I've done since my first NHL game.

When Sienna did make an appearance at games, I would always make sure I kissed her too as part of my pregame ritual, but I can’t exactly kiss Lola in front of everyone now, can I?

One because she’s not my girl, two because she’s Wade’s assistant, and three, she’s an Eagles employee.

Fuck my life.

Connor, our new goalie, slaps me on the back. He’s a good guy, far nicer than Zane Edwards, our last goalie who got suspended a few weeks ago by his father who just happens to be the owner of the team.

“Home & Away for dinner and drinks after the game?” Connor asks.

“Not tonight. I have plans.”

“Since when?” Wade questions suspiciously, knowing I go out with the team after every game.

“Since my creative mojo returned. I have a date with a paintbrush.” I feel fucking terrible lying to him.

“And his hand,” always the joker, Spike interjects. “Do you jerk off when you finish a painting to celebrate?”

“And add the jizz to the paint?” Connor adds.

I screw my face up in disgust. “What is wrong with you two knuckleheads?”

“I changed my mind. I don’t want anything painted by you.” Wade shudders.

“I’m telling both your wives you drank each other’s piss from your skates last weekend.” I point my stick at Spike then Connor and they both hold their hands up in surrender.

“See, two can play the stupidmake shit upgame.” I give them both a smug smile, making them mirror my gestures because we all secretly enjoy fucking with each other.

“No jizz in the paint. Got it.” Spike walks past me, shoulders back, and slips into leader mode. “Right, boys, let’s do this shit.”

Wade and I walk over to join the team to listen to one of Spike’s legendary pep talks. He’s fucking epic at rounding us up and injecting enough confidence to make you feel like you can fly.

“Did you see Lola when she arrived earlier?” Wade asks, concern written all over his face.

“Yeah. I think she’d been crying.” Her eyes were red, and her cheeks were all puffy again and all I wanted to do was hold her in my arms to make her feel better.

“I’m not good when girls cry.” Wade groans, running his hand down his face.

“Ice cream always helps. Make sure you have plenty in the freezer.”

“Why?”

“So, she can eat her feelings.”

“I never would have thought of that.” Wade lifts his head as if he’s thinking about my suggestion. “That’s a great idea. I’ll pick some up after the game.”

“Check with her first. She might have plans tonight.”

He waggles his pointer finger at me. “True. Good point. I’m shit at this stuff with girls. I never had a sister.”

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