Page 173 of Desperate Pucker
It’s game one of the Stanley Cup finals, and the Bashers are getting their asses kicked by New York. On home ice.
It’s halfway through the third period, and New York is up, five to two.
New York has been playing like monsters—high energy, scrappy, and brutal. Denver looks like they’re struggling to keep up. Always a half-second behind or too late on plays and defense.
I exhale sharply as I watch Ryker skate across the ice. He hasn’t had as much playing time as he normally does since this is his first game back after being injured, but he’s giving it his all. He’s moving fast and hard.
When a New York defenseman checks him, I tense up and hold my breath, hoping he’s okay.
He stumbles a little, but recovers quickly and takes off. I huff out a breath, relieved.
Dakota gives my arm a soft squeeze. “He’s okay.”
I know this is exactly where he wants to be right now—on the ice with his teammates, playing his heart out.
Denver gets possession of the puck and heads toward New York’s net. Theo passes it to Ryker, who takes off. He weaves around a New York player and goes to shoot the puck, but their goalie blocks it.
The home crowd lets out a collective disappointed sound. Denver tries two more times to score before the end of the game, but they just can’t pull it off. The buzzer sounds, and the crowd starts to filter out.
“The guys are gonna be crushed that they lost their first game at home,” Abby says.
“They played their asses off,” Bella says. “Sometimes the other team just plays a little harder, and that gives them the edge.”
We stay in our seats for a few minutes to avoid getting stuck in the crowd on our way out of the arena.
“Feel like Spanky’s tonight?” Dakota asks us.
I shake my head. “I know Ryker won’t be in the mood to go out after that loss.”
“What’s wrong?” Bella asks Maya, who’s frowning at her phone.
“Some sports podcaster is shit-talking the Bashers for losing. Ingrid just sent me the link. It’s trending all over sports news,” Maya looks up at me. “He’s blaming Ryker for the loss.”
Protectiveness surges through me. “What?”
“Some guy named Bobby Baker.” She hesitates for a second. “He mentioned you too, Madeline.”
Anger and confusion slice through me. What the hell is wrong with this guy? He’s targeting Rykerandme?
Maya shows me her phone. I skim the article, then see they included an excerpt from Bobby’s podcast. I tap on the screen to listen.
“Pitiful performance by the Bashers. Just pitiful,” Bobby says in his nasally voice. “I mean, they got spanked on home ice in game one of the finals. Ouch. But I think we all know why. Because they’re keeping around a washed-up injured winger on their roster. They’re letting him play instead of getting rid of him. Can you believe it?”
He lets out an exasperated laugh that makes me want to punch a wall.
“I mean, look, I’m not an ageist. If you’re good enough to play, you’re good enough to play, no matter how old you are. But come on. Ryker St. George is in his mid-thirties. Well past his prime. You saw the way he moved on the ice tonight. He was sluggish, tired. Definitely not playing at one hundred percent after coming back from that knee injury earlier in the playoffs. What a damn shame they’re letting him play when they should just drop him. But hey, that’s nepotism, right?”
He cackles. What the hell is he talking about?
“Are you guys ready for a bombshell? Here it is: Ryker is in a relationship with Madeline Macer. Does that name sound familiar? You’ve probably heard of her. She’s the figure skater who crashed out at the last Winter Olympics, and now she works as a skating coach for the team. But she’s also the team owner’s daughter.”
Bobby makes a tsking noise, like he’s scolding us.
“You know what that means, folks? Ryker’s getting special treatment. That’s why he’s allowed to play at all, even though he sucks. He’s sleeping with the owner’s daughter. How’s that for favoritism? And hey, don’t shoot the messenger, okay?” He chuckles. “I got that information from a source close to the team owner. It’s a fact, folks. The only reason Ryker St. George is being allowed to play right now is because he’s screwing his boss’s daughter.”
A sick feeling whips through me, clawing through my gut. My head spins as I struggle to process everything Bobby just said.
When I look up, Maya, Abby, Bella, and Dakota all look at me, their expressions shocked and disgusted.
