Page 19 of Lucky Puck

When Brooks turns white, I realize she’s seen it too, and she turns to Lou with her mouth open and no words coming out to answer the question in his expression as he looks back and forth between us. While I’m trying to figure out what to say, he starts pointing his finger between us, making his assumption clear.

“You two are⁠—”

“You don’t understand,” Brooks says.

“Let me explain,” I say at the same time, though I have no idea what my explanation is going to be, at least not in ten words or less.

“No, let me explain,” Bianca steps in front of me, almost protectively, like she’s blocking bullets for me instead of deflecting rumors.

But before she can manage to say something—she looks as unsure as I am about what to say that isn’t going to make me look stupid, debauched, or, in general, like a dick—Sabien steps in front of her.

He takes Lou by the shoulder and pulls him aside while he tells him the most outrageous lie I ever heard.

I would laugh if he wasn’t telling the attentive trainer that the reason I’m wearing a wedding band is because I just got married—to Brooks.

“It’s a big secret though,” he says while my mouth hangs open and empty of words.

“So do us a favor and keep it quiet,” he continues. “I’d really appreciate it.” He looks over his shoulder at me while I stare at him dumbfounded—I finally understand what that term means—and he adds, “I’m his best man, and I made a promise that we’d keep it between us for a while. Until they can talk to their families.”

“Wait a—” Bianca erupts from her stupor, and I don’t know what she’s going to say except that it’ll probably contradict Sabien’s lie, so I clamp one arm around her middle and the other around her mouth to stop her. Why I need to stop her, I’m not sure, but I still don’t know what else we can say to Lou that he might actually believe.

Before she bites my hand—because I know she’s just the type of spitfire to do exactly that—I spin her around and go to plan B to stop her from talking before she makes things worse.

I pull her close and clamp my mouth over hers in a crushing kiss—and pray she’s not going to bite my tongue off. While I’m enjoying the lip lock, finding it far too satisfying, I’m only dimly aware of Sabien and Lou chortling. The effectiveness of my kiss in keeping Brooks quiet amazes me. Not to mention how amazing her kissing me back is in curing whatever was hurting me a second ago. Was it my head?

Burying my fist in her hair, I deepen the kiss, playing my part convincingly enough so that Sabien feels a need to put a stop to it. But not Brooks. She doesn’t try to resist or stop the kiss for even one flutter of her eyelashes. Shit.

“Hold off on the honeymoon, you Lucky Puck,” Sabe says, laying a heavy hand on my shoulder.

“Congratulations,” Lou says. “I won’t say a word to anyone.” He crosses his heart like we’re in the playground making rash, soul-felt promises like ten-year-old kids.

Bianca regains her composure and throws me a strange glare full of questions and accusations, then she turns her attention to Sabien. He’s lucky he doesn’t turn to stone on the spot with the murderous look she aims at him like she’s throwing knives with her eyes.

He grins back. “I’m glad that’s all settled.”

“Right,” I say, unsure how settled it is because I’m feeling slightly nauseous. Though that could be from the bump on my head. Or it could be from the unexpected killer of a kiss, punching me in the gut like a one-timer from the red line hitting the back of the net. Not my usual reaction, but⁠—

A gray-haired man dressed in casual clothes walks into the room through a back door, interrupting my headache. He’s carrying a black leather satchel and clears everyone out of the way.

“Here’s the doctor now,” Sabien says, overly happy to see the man who could pronounce me benched.

Before I can escape—because I feel like running in my skates out the door and back to the ice—Brooks closes in as if she’s reading my mind, and along with Sabien, they shove me back to the training table, lifting my legs back onto it.

“This is Dr. Patrick,” Lou says, nodding and backing away. He looks at me apologetically. “The butterfly bandages on your forehead are only temporary, kid,” he says. “Now that the doc is here, he’ll stitch you up and check for a concussion.”

Doc Patrick drops his satchel on the table next to me and opens it. “So you’re the so-called phenom, eh?” He shakes his head.

Then he smiles at Brooks. “He could be out of action for a week—hockey action, that is.” He winks.

Sabien covers his face to hide his grin. But Brooks doesn’t find the doc’s insinuation very funny at all.

I can feel her bristle as her cheeks pink up. I glance at my fully exposed wedding band, and I’m not sure if the doctor saw the ring or if he’s leaping to the wrong conclusion about me and Brooks all on his own. The band-aid slipped completely off the ring. Thumbing it, I try to slide the band-aid back over it. But the band-aid is frayed and useless from being inside my sweat-soaked glove. So I slide my left hand out of sight as best I can without drawing attention to it.

Brooks doesn’t notice because she’s too busy staring down Doc Patrick, more affronted than I realized, or than she needs to be.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she says, not bothering to wait for an answer. “Brody won’t be getting any other kind of action because he’s sticking with me for the weekend.”

Sabien cough-laughs.