Page 75 of Pucked Up

He grinned at me. “He texted.”

“He—oh.” He. Boden. My heart ached in my chest. I’d gone numb the moment I got into the bed next to Micah and I let him think he’d comforted me. He was such a good guy, and I didn’t want to break his heart by letting him know that my emotions weren’t better. They just shut down.

We had a decent night, and we both slept in, which was a good thing. I woke up to a text from Vincent asking me if we could grab breakfast before his potential meeting with my…well. Ex-lover was probably the best word for it now.

It hurt to even think it though.

“He wants to meet at one.” Vincent set his phone down and picked up his coffee. “How’s this wholething going to go? Is he going to dog-pile me with anger because I’m not disabled?”

“He might not love that about you,” I admitted. “He was not thrilled with my appointment, and this is a community league team.”

Vincent sighed. “Will he tell me no?”

At that, I laughed. “He’s been trying to get into the PPHL without his father pulling strings for years now.”

“Well, his stunt in Beijing?—”

“No, I know. But you’d do well not to bring that up,” I told him. Vincent pulled a face, so I shrugged. “It’s a tender spot. It was one of his weakest moments.”

“Did you know him back then?”

I didn’t. The Paralympics had been a blip on my radar. Seven and a half years ago, Reid was still alive, but he was also very sick. I didn’t give a fuck about anything except getting him through flu season.

“We just met when I was appointed as coach.” Not true, but I wasn’t about to tell Vincent I’d fucked his future star player in a pay-by-the-hour hotel room before walking into that meeting room and seeing him there. “He can be…difficult.”

Vincent snorted. “I manage a hockey team. My entire life is handling difficult players. They’re all fucking divas in their own way. I’m not worried about him. Though…I mean, I’ve met his father. Is there an attitude there, or?—”

“No.God, no,” I said quickly. “He’s nothing like that man.”

Vincent sagged back. “Thank Christ. Arnaud is a dick.”

I choked on my swallow of coffee. “Couldn’t put it better myself. Boden doesn’t want to be like him. He has a lot to prove to himself, so he can be a bit…intense.”

“As long as he brings that to the ice, I’m all for it. I want to nurture and feed that intensity, baby. We’ve been knocked out of the playoffs in the final round for the last two years since losing Bettie to Seattle. We’re missing someone who’s made hockey their entire personality.”

That was Boden. Mostly. There were other parts of him—the parts that lived in the quiet shadows that he neglected terribly—but I knew he was what Vincent was looking for. “You won’t regret it if you can get him to sign with you.”

“Who else is courting him?”

I raised a brow at him.

“Oh, come on, like you give a shit. You’re not beholden to those assholes anymore.”

He was right. I wasn’t. This was no longer my world, and even when I was with Reid, I’d been a visitor. Nothing more. “Orlando and Portland.”

“Oh,fuckthose guys.” He looked irritated.

Portland was doing well. They had been for the last few years. But what he didn’t know was that Boden would choose a team close to his friends. I knew, deep down, one of the things he was terrified of was losing the people who cared about him.

“I think if you sweeten the pot early—come in strong and confident—you’ll be alright.”

“You’re not trying to make me look like a jackass, are you? Because you don’t want me poaching your best player?”

“I have a few more a lot like him,” I said with a small grin. Vincent immediately looked hungry. “None of those other guys are interested in going pro, but Boden is. He deserves this, Vinny. He deserves to be more than his worst moment.”

Vincent took a breath, and then his phone buzzed, and he looked down at it. “He changed his mind. He wants to meet in an hour. Shit. I don’t have a better offer pulled up.”

I wanted to go with. I wanted to see him in action. I wanted to catch a glimpse of the look on Boden’s face when he realized that there were people willing to fight to have him. But I needed to step back. He’d made it clear I was no longer invited into his space.

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