Page 57 of One Pucking Life

Walls? What is Iris even talking about? Do I have very specific boundaries when it comes to dating? Sure. I’d be stupid not to, given the quality—or lack thereof—of the dating pool. I’veseen what loving a man can do to a woman. My mother gave my father everything, and in return, she was disrespected, gaslit, ignored, verbally abused, and cheated on.

Growing up, everyone always told me how great my father was. To the outside world, he was charming, respected, and handsome. But he was the villain in my origin story.

The truth is, I don’t know what molded me more into the woman I am today—the way my father treated my mother, or the way she stayed with him, hoping it would get better. I remember questioning her, asking why she stayed loyal to him. Why she wouldn’t leave. She had told me that one day when I truly loved someone, I’d understand. Her words—“You’ll be surprised at what you’ll do for someone you love”—have stuck with me.

If loving someone means living a pathetic existence, then why would I ever want that? Love has never seemed worth the heartache.

The one good thing my father ever did was leave my mother—finally. I was grateful because she never would have left him, no matter what he did. I know she still secretly pines for him. But even if it wasn’t her choice, I’m glad she gets to live without him—a man who only ever hurt her.

I’m pulled from my thoughts when Max stops skating and looks up toward the box. His expression morphs from one of confusion to pure happiness as he spots us. I wave, and Caroline shakes a navy and white pom-pom. With his gloved hand, he blows us a kiss and presses it to his heart over the number four on his jersey for a moment before giving us another wave and continuing on, skating.

The walls I’ve built around my heart are strong and impenetrable—guaranteed to protect me from heartbreak. I’ve held these convictions for so long, I don’t even know if I’m capable of change. But Iris is right. If there’s anyone worth fighting for, it’s Max. He’s unlike any man I’ve known.

The thought of being vulnerable still scares me, but how will I ever know if it’s worth it if I don’t try?

CHAPTER

TWENTY-TWO

DELANEY

The Crane Hockey team takes the ice, and my heart stutters.

Max is skating out with that calm, predatory confidence he always seems to carry—but here, in this space, he’s more than just confident. He’s commanding. His presence is magnetic. He doesn’t even have the puck, yet my eyes never leave him.

God, he looks good.

It’s not just the uniform—which, okay, is doing plenty of work—it’s the way he moves. Smooth. Focused. Completely in control. There’s a split-second moment where he blocks a slapshot, absorbs the hit, spins off the boards, and launches the puck down the ice all before I even realize what just happened.

“Damn,” I whisper.

Caroline coos in agreement, and Iris chuckles. “I knew you’d like it once you gave it a chance.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty addicting to watch. Who knew?”

Max skates back to the bench, jaw tight, sweat dotting his brow as he leans forward and talks strategy with his teammates. That intensity in his expression, the focus—it does something to me. Something unexpected. I’ve seen this all before on TV,but witnessing it in person is intoxicating. It’s a whole new experience.

Living with Max allows me to see him in every light—tired, funny, silly, sexy. I’ve watched him in pajamas, in the kitchen, covered in pureed carrots. I’ve held his daughter in my arms while he kissed her forehead and hummed her to sleep. He’s been teasing and competitive during our never-ending game of rummy. I’ve seen him in so many ways—and not one of them has been disappointing.

But this? This is a different version of him. A more primal version. And I want him.

Not just because he’s hot—which, obviously—but because this man on the ice, this driven, quiet, brilliant player, is the same one who sings Care Bear lullabies and eats dill pickle hummus like it’s gourmet. It’s all him. Every single version. And suddenly, my chest aches with something bigger than want.

Somewhere in the second period, he takes a nasty hit into the boards, and my breath catches. I grip a now-sleeping Caroline a little tighter and stand halfway up. But Max pops back up like it’s nothing, shaking it off and skating away without missing a beat. My pulse doesn’t settle for several minutes after.

By the time the final buzzer sounds, the Cranes have won by two, and while I still know very little about the game, his defense seems unmatched.

Caroline sleeps in my arms as Iris leads us down to a private area outside the locker rooms. We make plans to get together soon, and she excuses herself, leaving us alone.

I wait, heart pounding. The hallway is quiet, staff buzzing past with gear and equipment, and then—he’s there.

He steps through the tunnel, hair damp from the shower, duffel slung over his shoulder. His eyes scan the space, and a brilliant smile lights his face when he sees us. In a second, he’s standing in front of me. He lifts his hands, cradles my face, andcrashes his lips to mine. I moan into his mouth as our tongues swirl.

Without warning, he pulls away—freezes—and looks around. “Sorry. I was just so happy to see you.”

“It’s fine.” I shrug, not caring in the slightest.

He leans down and gently brushes a piece of Caroline’s silky hair off her forehead and kisses it, careful not to wake her.

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