Page 157 of The Pucking Arrangement

But as I help Ris find her folder—under the couch, because why wouldn’t it be there?—Galina’s words press against my ribs, heavy and unrelenting.

* * *

Back at my desk after morning skate, I stare at the open laptop in front of me

Fingers drumming against the wood.

There’s still time to fix it.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I pull up my phone. Scroll through my Venmo transactions. Find the name I need.

Jacob Levinson.

Emma’s father.

The man who sold us Ris’s cello.

My fingers hover over the keyboard. The words aren’t fully formed yet. But doing nothing?

Not an option anymore.

Chapter31

Final Game

Dmitri

The locker room hums with pre-game tension, that unique mix of focus and adrenaline that comes before a game. Some guys have their rituals—Finn with his tape job that’s more superstition than function, Adam with his endless stretching routine, Nate staring at the whiteboard like it holds the secrets to the universe.

Me? I’m just trying to breathe.

Game seven. Stanley Cup Final. Sixty minutes to glory or heartbreak.

And all I can think about is her.

How she’ll react when I tell her that I don’t just want her in my life—I want to build a life with her.

I press my thumb against the roll of tape in my hands, stretching it tighter than I should. Control what you can. Tape the stick. Play the game. Worry about Erin later.

Easier said than done.

“Yo, Sokolov.”

Liam drops onto the bench beside me, already in his base layers, playoff beard in full glory. He’s watching me too closely, like he can hear every thought thundering through my skull.

“You good?”

I grunt, focusing on my hands, on the slow, methodical wrap of the tape. Left to right. No bubbles. Control what you can.

Liam snorts. “Yeah, you sound good. Real convincing.”

I ignore him.

“Erin’s here tonight.” His voice is casual, but I hear the pointed edge beneath it.

My hands falter—just for a second. Just long enough to mess up the tape job.

I exhale through my nose, tearing off the ruined section. “Ris will be happy.”

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