Page 83 of Risking the Pucking Defense

“We’ll talk about this later.”

“Will we?” he asks, his eyes lighting up.

“Uh…” Shit. I really haven’t thought any of this through. “You need to get out there.”

I press my palms against his chest, for all the good it’ll do. He’s huge and incredibly strong, and it only becomes more obvious when he’s in full gear. He towers over my tiny frame in every way. There’s no way Rett would have seen me around him, which means he knows way more about what’s going on here than I was expecting.

“Fuck,” he grunts, combing his hair back from his forehead. “I don’t think it’s sensible to play hockey with a boner.”

“Fucking hell.” I laugh as he flashes me one of his puppy-dog smirks. “Go. Go.”

He holds my eyes for another five seconds before he mutters something under his breath and finally slips out of the closet, letting the door close behind him before anyone can see me.

I squeeze my eyes shut and send up a prayer to anyone who’ll listen that Coach and this game are kind to him.

He really needs a win right now.

I force myself to stay inside the closet until I hear the shouts and cheers of the guys as they make their way down the tunnel, and I continue to hide as the starting lineup names are announced and the crowd goes wild.

Once I’m confident that I might be able to slip out of here unnoticed, I pull the door open, poke my head out, and then walk out with my shoulders back as if nothing happened.

The truth is, everything happened. But while I’m here and the game is playing, I refuse to overthink those few minutes in the closet.

Jesus Christ, what is it with enclosed spaces?

I walk down the tunnel just enough so I can see the game and keep myself hidden in the shadows as Kodie manages to score our first goal, only a minute in.

I glance at the bench just in time to see Hayden jump to his feet in celebration.

A smile pulls at my lips, watching his joy.

It’s at odds with the broken man I watched run into the closet not so long ago.

I tried to stop myself from following, but I couldn’t.

He needed someone, and in that moment, I was the only one who knew he was drowning.

My heart lurches when Coach calls for a shift change, and as Rett and Calvin race toward the boards, I watch as Hayden throws his leg over, ready to get his first ice time of the preseason.

His eyes lift the second his blades make contact, and when I follow his gaze, I find his parents on their feet, shouting and screaming.

Emotion races through me, making my nose itch and my eyes burn.

Yes, they’re hurting. Yes, they’re trying to figure out how to get through the worst days of their lives, but they’re here. They’re here for Hayden and supporting him the only way they know how.

I can’t help but wonder how that must feel.

My eyes continue to drift, but I freeze when I find a little girl beside Hayden’s mom. She’s fully kitted out in Vipers merch, and her jersey, well, it has number ninety-six on the shoulders, and if she were to turn around, “Monroe,” would be on her back. She’s jumping up and down in excitement, just like I’ve watched Sutton do a million times.

It’s not Rylee. It’ll never be Rylee. But there is something so right about having her in that space.

The future.

I just hope Hayden sees it the same way and finds some comfort in his new little supporter.

I watch him for a minute, and once I’m confident that he can do his job just as well as every other time he’s stepped out on that ice, I take off to do my own, watching the rest of the game from the press box.

It’s late by the time I’m making my way up to my office to grab my things. The high of our win has started to ebb away, replaced by nerves.