Pucking Sweet: An MMF Workplace Hockey Romance (Jacksonville Rays Book 3)
Pucking Sweet: Chapter 52

Practice ends, and I make my way with the rest of the team into the dressing room. The guys are all feeling rowdy today, laughing and joking. We’re riding a wave of wins, and moods are high. I’m trying to share in their enthusiasm, but instead I’m all in my head. The team may be playing great, but this is shaping up to be one of my worst seasons since my groin pull. Nothing is outright injured, but something definitely feels off.

As a former heart patient, I’m deeply in tune with all my body’s functions—recovery time between shifts, pulse and heart rate, muscle aches and pains. I’m fast, and I’m strong, and I’m making all my passes and taking the hits. My stats would show that I’m still a solid player, worthy of my spot on this team.

But the sensation lingers, growing stronger. I feel out of sync on the ice, like I’m constantly catching up to the action instead of driving it…and I fucking hate this feeling. Is this all just my mental game affecting my physical performance?

Hockey is such a demanding sport. So much pressure, so many games, so much travel. It can grind you down if you let it, body and soul. Not for the first time, I wish I still had my dad. He was someone in my corner who helped me catch my breath. His pep talks helped me align the physical with the mental.

If you can’t accept losing, you can’t win.

You can only control your own performance.

Keep your mind in the game, Colton.

He was always good for a little sports psychology.

It’s easy to focus on hockey when hockey is all you have. But my life is changing. I have more now. I want more. My loyalties feel divided. Do I chase the happiness I feel on the ice, the power, the purpose? Or do I embrace the happiness I have off it, the love and comfort, the unexpected feeling of family I’ve found?

What if I want it all? Do I have to choose? Is one person allowed to be that happy?

I get my first skate off as Lukas drops down on the bench next to me. Phone to his ear, voice gruff, he argues with someone on the other line. “Listen, I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. Why are you even at my house?” After a minute, he groans. “Oh, really?” He stiffens, his tone changing. “Will you hold for a second, please?” He covers the phone with his hand, dropping it to his lap. One brow is raised as he turns and glares at me. “I’m putting in a home theater system?”

Shit, was that today? “Yeah, in the back room. Why? What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” His brows shoot even higher. “What’s wrong, asshat, is that someone is trying to deliver twenty-thousand dollars’ worth of furniture to my house, but no one is there to sign for it.” He holds up his phone. “Now this nice gentleman is saying they’ll be charging a second delivery fee for the furniture I didn’t know I fucking ordered.”

I just shrug, tossing my other skate aside. “I’ll cover the fee.”

“Oh, you’ll cover all of it, you cheap fuck,” he snaps at me, raising the phone back to his ear. “That’s officially your home theater room now.”

He exchanges a few more clipped words with the guy, arranging a new delivery time, and I can’t help but smile. My master plan is coming together nicely.

We’re saved from any more argument when Poppy comes marching into the dressing room in her heels and red dress, toting a big colorful box in her arms. Some of the guys hoot and call out.

“Hey, we’re indecent!”

“Boys only, Poppy!”

She doesn’t care. Her expression is wild, and her curls look extra voluminous as she slams the box down on one of the gear boxes. “Stop sending popsicles up to my office!”

The guys all laugh as, next to me, Lukas gets a smug look on his face. “Gotta call you back,” he mutters, hanging up.

Jake walks forward, still in his skates. “What happened, Poppy?”

She huffs, hands on her hips, impatiently tapping her foot. Fuck, why is this turning me on? “This is the third box of popsicles delivered to my office this week, and I know it’s one of you,” she shrieks, waving her hand at the box.

I shake my head, glaring at Lukas.

The smug asshole just crosses his arms, leaning back against his stall. “Why would someone send you popsicles?” he asks, innocent as a fucking schoolboy.

She slow turns to glare at him too. “I don’t know,” she replies, her tone level. “But if the culprit doesn’t stop, I may have to take drastic measures of my own.”

Half the guys “ooh” and laugh as the others look around, pretending they don’t know it’s him. Ryan Langley walks up to the box, flipping back the lid. “Are these for anyone?”

She huffs, waving her hand again. “Take them, Ryan. Free of charge.”

“Score.” Ryan snatches out a blue one.

The other guys crowd around, passing out the popsicles as Poppy marches back out of the room.

“Seriously?” I say at Lukas the moment she’s gone.

He shrugs, accepting a banana-flavored popsicle from Jake. “What?”

I hold my stare.

He just chuckles. “Look, I may have turned over a few new leaves recently, but I’m still the same guy. If I can’t prank, I can’t live. And this one is harmless,” he adds, unbuckling his pads.

I turn away to hear him add, “Just wait until she realizes I’ve glued her shoes to the floor…God, I hope she spanks me.”