Page 8 of Of Pucking Course

“Good man,” Blomdahl says to me. Theo gives me a nod of approval

I tell them it was nothing, but Del shakes his head. “He’s right. I would have lost my fucking head if you hadn’t been there. Thanks, man. You’re a good friend.”

I try to smile through the guilt throttling me. He wouldn’t think I was such a good friend if he knew that I was on the verge of kissing his heartbroken sister not evenfive minutes ago. And if he knew that I’ve had a crush on her for the past five years.

A second later, the side door opens again. Dakota walks out, followed by Sophie, Maya, Ingrid, and Bella.

Everyone looks at Dakota with pity in their expressions. Her face and eyes are pink and puffy from crying.

“Hey,” Del says gently. He pulls his sister into a hug.

“You didn’t kill Jake, did you?” she says, her voice muffled against her brother’s shoulder.

“Nope. Sam talked me out of it.”

When they break apart, Dakota flashes a warm smile at me. “Thanks,” she says to me.

I offer her a small smile.

“How are you holding up?” Del asks.

“I’ve been better.” She skims her hand along the lace of her dress. “Mom is insisting I go home with her, but she’ll just fuss over me, and I can’t take that right now.”

“Do you want to be alone?” Del asks.

She shakes her head.

“We’re here for you, Dakota,” Ingrid says. Maya nods in agreement. So do the guys.

“Whatever you want, we’ll make it happen,” I say.

Dakota’s shoulders rise and fall with the big breath she takes. She looks at me. “Honestly? I wanna get drunk.”

Chapter 4

Dakota

Iknock back my third shot of tequila and slam the empty glass onto the table.

“Why don’t you drink some water now?” Del says. He slides a glass of ice water to me across the table.

I wrinkle my nose and shake my head. “I’m not in the mood for water.”

One of the owners of the bar, Darlene, I think her name is, comes by to collect the empty glasses from our usual table at Spanky’s, a dive bar just outside of downtown Denver. Del and his Bashers teammates come here a lot to unwind and blow off steam, usually after home games and practices.

Bella chats with Darlene for a bit. She used to work here as a bartender and server before she opened her coffee shop in the Uptown neighborhood of Denver a few months ago.

“Would you ladies and fellas like more beer?” Darlene asks. The guys ask for another pitcher.

“Could I get a triple shot of tequila, please?” I ask.

“You got it.” She squints at my wedding dress. “That’s quite a getup you’ve got on.”

“Today was my wedding day,” I blurt out, spurred on by the liquor. “Actually, reception day. We eloped a couple of weeks ago. But I decided to leave my husband when he smashed cake in my face after I told him not to.”

I expect Darlene to give me a pitying stare or awkwardly walk away at my TMI admission. But instead, she just nods, like she understands what I’ve been through.

“Good for you, honey. I should have done that with my first husband. But I was young and naive. I tolerated his bullshit for too many years. Your triple shot of tequila is on me for sticking up for yourself and not putting up with that jerk husband.”

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