Page 123 of Of Pucking Course

Everyone goes “aww!”

Del rolls his eyes, but I can tell he’s fighting a smile.

Everyone gets up to leave. When we walk out of Spanky’s, I hug Ingrid, then Del.

“Thanks again for coming out, especially when your cat’s not feeling well,” I say to him.

He hugs me tight. “We’re happy to.” When we break apart, he looks at me. “You doing okay? Like, really okay? You’ve been dealing with a lot.”

I smile. “I really am.”

His gaze on me focuses. “You seem different. In a good way. Happier. A lot happier than I’ve seen you in a long time.”

The urge to tell him why sparks inside of me.

It’s because of Sam. He’s the most amazing man I’ve ever met. The most supportive, doting, caring, and kind boyfriend I could ever want.

But I hold back. Del won’t understand.

I keep smiling, hoping my brother can’t pick up on the conflict playing out inside of me.

“I’m in a good place right now,” I say.

Del nods once, the corners of his mouth curving up in a small smile. “Good. You deserve to be.”

He and Ingrid walk down the street to their car. Blomdahl turns to us. “Who’s ready for cocktails?”

Chapter 43

Sam

Itug loose the tie I’m wearing while walking toward my hotel room in Nashville.

I huff out a breath, gritting my teeth at the pain in my shoulder. I stretch it out slightly, and the pain fades.

Blomdahl pats my good shoulder. “Don’t stress. We’re gonna kick Nashville’s ass tomorrow.”

“I hope so. It wasn’t pretty the way they handed our asses to us yesterday on home ice.”

We made it through the first round of the playoffs against Chicago. We had three wins in a row to close out that first round, and we rode the high of that into round two of the playoffs against Nashville.

But Nashville kicked the shit out of us, beating us four to one.

“Honestly, they did us a favor,” Blomdahl says. “We always play better when we’re pissed. And nothing pisses off a hockey team like beating them on home ice during the playoffs.”

“I guess you’re right.”

He stops at his hotel room door and unlocks it. I walkin with him and say hi to Del, who’s lying on one of the two queen-sized beds in the room, frowning at his phone screen. He nods “hi” to me. Del and Blomdahl are always roommates whenever we travel for away games.

Blomdahl walks over to his suitcase, unzips the side pocket, and grabs a bottle of painkillers.

He tosses it to me. “That’ll fix your shoulder right up.”

I open it and dump out two pills, then dry swallow them. Del tosses me a bottle of water.

“Thanks,” I say to him.

“How’s Connors holding up?” Del asks. “Is he downing painkillers like Skittles like the rest of us?”

---