Page 45 of Pucking Only

Thankfully, Skyler didn’t appear at the last few practices so I was able to focus and push her from my mind. I finally started to relax a bit and think that maybe we could just put this all behind us... until today. Seeing her again has my brain short circuiting all over again. It’s foolish for me to think that Skyler and I could just pretend it never happened and go on with our lives like normal when clearly I can’t even stop looking at her.

It’s all going to be just fine. Totally, absolutely fine.

“Hey, Carson, you good?” Jensen asks, skating up beside me with a furrowed brow.

Shit, how long have I been spacing out?

“I’m good,” I say. “Just getting my head in the game.”

“Well get over to the net,” he orders, going into captain mode. “The game’s about to start.”

“Right.” I hurry to do as I’m told and set myself up in front of our net. Focus, I tell myself. Focus, focus, focus!

The buzzer sounds and the game gets underway. The puck drops, and I force my attention back to the ice. The game starts off fast, players rushing toward me with the kind of speed and intensity I usually thrive on. But tonight, my focus keeps slipping. Every time there’s a break in the action, my eyes find their way back to Skyler. She’s so focused, so absorbed in the game, and I can’t help but wonder what she’s thinking — about the game, about me.

I barely notice the first rush coming my way until it’s too late. The other team’s forward cuts in sharply, firing a quick shot at the net. I react a split second too late, the puck slipping past my outstretched pad and into the goal. The red light flashes behind me. The crowd erupts, but I hardly hear it. My eyes flicker back to Skyler, hoping she didn’t notice how badly I botched that save.

Coach shouts something from the bench, probably telling me to shake it off. It’s like I’m moving through molasses. The game restarts. I force myself to focus, to block out everything else. My team is relying on me. The puck moves quickly from one end of the rink to the other. I track it with all the concentration I can muster. But the next time I glance up, Skyler is still there, typing something on her laptop, and I’m lost again.

The second goal comes even quicker than the first. This time, it’s a slapshot from the blue line. I see it coming but myreaction is delayed — just by a fraction of a second, but it’s enough. The puck sails past my glove. I hear the clang as it hits the inside of the post and ricochets into the net. I close my eyes for a moment, trying to block out the sound of the horn, and the groans from the crowd.

“Come on, Carson! Focus!” Jensen shouts as he skates past me, frustration evident in his voice. I nod, but I don’t trust myself to say anything. My mind is a mess. I am torn between the game and the fact that Skyler is right there, watching, taking notes, analyzing my every move. I’ve seen her naked. Felt how incredible it was to touch her. Be inside her. See what she looks like when her orgasm washes through her.

The third goal is the worst. The puck gets dumped into our zone. I move to play it, but I hesitate because my mind wanders back to Skyler. I wonder if she’s impressed with the game, or if she’s even noticing me. I mishandle the puck, fumbling it just long enough for an opposing player to swoop in and knock it into the open net. I barely register the cheers from the other team or the disappointment in the faces of my teammates as they skate back to the bench.

I’m blowing it, and I know it. My head’s not in the game, and it’s costing us. I take a deep breath, trying to refocus, to push everything else out of my mind, but it’s no use. Every time I think I’ve got it under control, my gaze drifts back to Skyler. She’s looking right at me now, concern etched on her face. It’s like she knows something’s off, and that only makes it worse. I can’t help the shudder that passes through me and lands right in my dick. Memories of what her body felt like wrapped around mine bombard me and for a moment. I can’t see or think of anything or anyone but her.

Just as I’m about to try and refocus for what feels like the hundredth time, I see Coach gesturing from the bench. His face is set in that stern, no-nonsense expression he gets whenhe’s had enough. He’s pointing at me, then signaling to the backup goalie.

My heart sinks. This can’t be happening.

I skate over to the bench, trying to keep my expression neutral. I can feel the heat of embarrassment creeping up my neck. Coach doesn’t say anything and when I’m close enough he just gives me a look that says it all.

“Monroe, you’re done for tonight,” he says, his voice low but firm. “You’re not yourself out there. Take a seat.”

I want to argue. I want to tell him I can pull it together, that I can still salvage this game… but I can’t. I know he’s right. I’ve been off since the puck dropped, and I’m doing more harm than good by staying out there.

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Got it, Coach.”

As I skate to the bench, the backup goalie is already moving toward the ice, ready to take over. I feel like everyone’s eyes are on me, judging me for messing up, for letting the team down. The worst part is knowing that Skyler’s watching, too. I can’t even look in her direction now. It’s too much.

I slump onto the bench, yanking my helmet off. I stare at the ice, my mind racing. I should have done better. I should have been stronger, more focused. Instead, I let my emotions get the better of me. Now I’m sitting on the bench while someone else tries to clean up my mess. Coach pats me on the shoulder.

“We’ll talk after the game,” he says, then turns his attention back to the ice.

I watch the rest of the game in a daze, barely registering what’s happening. My replacement is doing his best, but the damage has already been done. It’s clear we’re not going to pull off a win tonight. Every time the puck comes near our net, I flinch, knowing I should be out there, knowing I could have made a difference if only I’d kept it together.

When the final buzzer sounds, I let out a harsh breath and run a hand through my hair. The team skates off the ice. I trail behind them, feeling the weight of the loss heavy on my shoulders. The locker room is quiet, the air thick with disappointment. No one blames me out loud, but I know they don’t have to. I’m blaming myself enough for everyone.

Quickly stripping my gear off, I don’t bother to shower and just change into my street clothes. I want to get out of here as quickly as possible.

“Carson, hey,” Jensen says, resting a hand on my shoulder and pulling me around to face him. I can barely look him in the eye. “What the hell happened out there? Are you okay?”

Gazing at him, I try to come up with some plausible excuse. I can’t tell him the truth - that now that I’ve seen her again, Skyler’s haunting my every thought and I can’t stop thinking about what we did together - that I couldn’t focus tonight like I’ve been able to at practices because I know she’s watching me.

I know he’d tell Grace. She can’t find out what I did. She’d never forgive me for crossing that line with Skyler, especially after how much shit I gave her and Jensen when they got together. At least with them, Jensen never had any intention of hurting Grace and wanted more with her. I have no idea what my intentions are with Skyler and hurting herwillhurt Grace.

“Off day,” I mumble with a shrug. “Sorry.”