Page 28 of Tricky Puck

“Me, the matchmaker, and her grandmother, who arranged the match on her end, discussed it. That’s all you need to know. The matchmaker will discuss it with Delaney. I told her I would talk to you about it.” She pauses and winks.

I’m having a hard time breathing. I don’t often lose control, but the feelings are all coming back to me now. Shit.

Grandma adds, “It’s a great plan. Now, you can give me that hug and a kiss of gratitude.”

Fuck. All I can do is lean in and hug the woman I owe everything to. We go to the living room where I left my duffel and jacket. There’s no way I should feel anything but gratitude—not for the mess she put me in with Delaney—for her unwavering, unconditional love and support all my life, right down to the bag of homemade cookies she shoves into my hands right now.

“A snack for the ride. I know how hungry you get.”

My stomach clenches in agreement right on cue. I remember the meal we never ate last night, leaving it in the hotel room without a second thought. That was a first. Another first.

“Make whatever arrangements you need to make. I gave Delaney’s grandmother your address.”

“You gave…” The blood rushes from my head, my chest seizes up like I’m being squeezed in a vice, and my heart is pumping like a maniac to keep me upright.

“Fuck,” I say under my breath as I grab my bag. “I have to catch my plane. I can’t miss this one. I’ll call you later, Grandma.” I bend and give her one last hug and a kiss on her cheek. She squeezes back, but her hugs aren’t what they used to be. She’s lost so much of her vitality, so much of her strength. Shit.

“I love you, Lincoln. I’m glad you had an enjoyable night with Delaney, and my wish for you is that you have more of that, that you have a lifetime of that kind of joy.”

I cough, not sure if she knows exactly what kind of joy I had last night. Swinging an arm around her bony shoulders, I walk with her to the front door. This time, there’s no big family send-off since they’re all at work, so I wave goodbye and get into the waiting taxi.

Falling back into the seat alone with my duffel, I feel like I escaped from crazy land, and I’m heading back to the real world and my real life. I pull out my phone to call Jason, but he doesn’t answer, and I try to think what today’s schedule was supposed to be. Fuck. He’s probably in the team meeting. By the time I get to the arena, I’ll have missed half the fucking day—the first day.

I should call Delaney. I need to talk to her about the matchmaker’s crazy ass idea of her moving in with me because that’s just not happening. But I can’t make myself stab the icon for her number. I have no fucking idea what to say. No way can we fucking live together sounds harsh, but that’s what my head screams at me. My nerves are still too on edge. I’ll call her later tonight—or maybe tomorrow after a good night’s sleep—and we’ll come up with a way to side-step the crazy cohabitation idea.

A flash of her lying in bed naked, her hair in a sexy mess, and her skin glowing with that thoroughly undone look of a woman whose world was just rocked fills my mind. The last thing I need is her in my bed every morning, tempting me to be late for hockey.

The flight back turns out to be the perfect opportunity to catch a short nap, and when I arrive at the arena complex, I’m fresh enough to be functional. Now, I need to catch up with the team and think of some explanation to give Coach Nash that doesn’t include getting tangled in the sheets with a woman. That would not fly with Coach. Fuck no. It doesn’t fucking fly with me.

At some point before lunch, I think we were supposed to watch films, so that’s where I head. No one’s in the meeting room or locker room, so I hunt down Dugan, the equipment manager, in the storage room.

“Hey, Dugan,” He turns and gives me a surprised look as I extend my hand.

He slaps it. “You’re not with the team? You okay?”

“I’m fine. Where are they?”

“On the ice. Ahead of schedule, I guess. I came back here for a bucket of pucks.”

“See you out there.” I turn around and hustle back to the locker room, realizing I’m in more trouble than I thought. I’m going to stay late today whether Coach demands it or not.

Shit. There goes drinks after dinner and catching up on my sleep.

Stepping through the gate, I hit the ice and take off fast to join the drill in progress, gritting my teeth to keep down my self-loathing.

How could I be so fucking stupid to let a woman interfere with hockey? That’s what happened here, and there’s no sense in kidding myself about it. I stayed with her this morning and missed my early flight, not knowing if I could catch another one to get me here on time.

What a fuck-up. Self-derision rises as Sabien Dumas, our team captain, looks my way, and then Coach Spence turns his attention to me. He nods at Assistant Coach Nash to take over the drill, then skates toward the bench, pointing at me.

Fuck. Coach Spence wants to have it out with me, not leaving this to Coach Nash like he usually does. Now? What the fuck is that about?

Nothing good. I change direction and, slowing down, skate to the bench. Only my heartbeat picks up speed. When I reach the boards, I hop over as Coach opens the gate and joins me. He remains standing, so I do, too.

Guess I’m going to take the shit I deserve standing up. I’m slightly taller than Coach Spence, but I don’t feel like it. Remaining silent as he stares at me with a fucking scary neutral face—his legendary game face, the one we all aspire to—is easy because no matter how cool and cavalier I am by nature, this feels different, next level.

“Why are you late, Milano?” His question is calm and without judgment, as if he’s giving me a chance for a legitimate explanation. Too bad I don’t have one.

“I missed my flight.” No way in hell am I going to tell him why I missed my flight.