Page 45 of The Pucking Arrangement

Liam doesn’t have to say more. We all know what he’s thinking. I can practically hear it.

You have a daughter. You have a history. You have obligations.

And Erin? She deserves someone whole. Someone who isn’t holding on to ghosts.

“You might want to focus, Dmitri,” Liam adds, adjusting his gloves. “Coach is already riding my ass about Sophie. Pretty sure he can’t handle two of his players being distracted. “

I manage a scoff. “I’m not distracted.”

“I beg to differ,” Finn smirks. “The girl’s got that wholelooks innocent but could probably destroy youthing going on.”

He’s not wrong.

That girl is steel wrapped in soft, infuriating temptation.

I see it when she handles Ris with endless patience. When she doesn’t let the skating moms intimidate her. When she plays her cello with that fierce, focused determination that makes mewant.

And it’s killing me.

After only two days, she’s already everywhere in my house. The music lingering in the air. The scent of her shampoo when she walks past. She’s in my head, crawling under my skin, making me restless, making meweak.

And I can’t have her.

“You’re doing it again,” Finn sing-songs.

“Doing what?”

“Staring at nothing, looking tortured, probably composing a sonnet in your head.”

I chuck the mangled tape roll at his head. He dodges it, grinning.

Nate shakes his head. “Man, I’ve seen you take punches harder than that. And here you are, wilting over a girl.”

She’s more than just a girl. It’s her quiet strength. The way she fills my house with music. The way she makes me want things I shouldn’t. Things I swore off after Elena.

The thought of my late wife used to burn like acid. A constant, gnawing grief, an open wound that refused to close.

But now…it’s different.

The pain isn’t sharp. It’s soft.

And for the first time, I wonder if Elena—my Elena—somehow had a hand in this. In bringingsolnyshkointo our lives.

She always did have a way of knowing exactly what we needed.

Fuck.

“Five minutes!” Coach’s voice booms through the room. “Get your heads in the game!”

Right.

Hockey first.

Feelings later.

I drag my jersey over my head, my shoulders squaring.

“Ready?” Liam’s watching me, searching.

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