Egotistical Puckboy (Puckboys 1)

“Of course.”

The whole time, Anton keeps watching us, and when Tai walks away, I lean in closer.

“Careful. With how hard you’re staring, someone might think you have a thing for me.”

Anton shakes his head. “Just when I think you might actually be a decent human being underneath all your shit, you come out with … that.”

“Hey, I can be a decent human being and be full of shit at the same time, thank you very much. It’s called multitasking.”

“If you say so.”

I will never, ever, ever admit it, but today has actually been fun.

Minus the cats.

Eight

ANTON

Even as I’m shown through the third apartment I’ve viewed since coming home to Boston, I’m still not feeling it. The places are fine, but I don’t get the same sense of home like I did back in Philly. It’s a whole lot harder being back here than I thought it would be.

I don’t know if it’s my playing, the team, trying to be Ezra’s teammate, or a combination of everything.

The game the other night was a mess. It’s been so long since I’ve played a shutout match that I forgot how hard they hit you mentally. I have one job out there—to score—so if I don’t score, I’ve failed.

Not my team. Me.

The final preseason game is tomorrow night in Philly, and Ezra’s taunt of remembering who I play for keeps ringing in my ears. The only thing I’m using to keep my mood up is the thought of sleeping back in my old apartment. I know I’ll need to get around to leasing it or selling it eventually, but for right now, I’m holding on to that place like a lifeline.

“How’s this one?”

I cringe and turn to face Gerard. “I don’t love it.”

“Why aren’t I surprised?”

When I got back to Boston and needed to find a place, he was the first one I called. We were hockey buddies in high school, and instead of aiming for the big time, he wanted to go into real estate like his mom.

“You NHL stars sure are high-maintenance,” he says.

I flip him off, which only makes him laugh. “Show me an apartment worthy of an NHL star and we’ll do business.”

The thing is, he has been showing me great places. They meet the brief I’ve given him, but what they’re missing is the inexplicable quality that grabs hold when you walk into a place and it refuses to let you forget about it.

“Still at that hotel?”

“Unfortunately. Though with the number of away games we have coming up, it’s not like it’s much different to how it normally is during the season. How’s the family?”

“Great. Michelle has been asking when you’re coming to visit. I think she has a crush.”

“Can we blame her?”

“Fuck off, asshole. Your lifestyle has made you look old.”

I rub my jaw. “Wow. Realtors in Boston are a hell of a lot less professional than I remember.”

“Seriously though, when are you going to make time for us? We want you to meet the little one.”

“You’re not worried I’ll steal your wife?”

He gives me a derisive eye roll because he knows that will never happen. Gerard is one of the first people I ever came out to. One of only a few from my high school days.

“If you get desperate for dates to all those charity benefits you hockey players go to, I’ll let you borrow her. Then I can brag to all my friends that my wife is still hot enough to bang an NHL player.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, thanks. Though, my no-date rule is working for me just fine.”

“Don’t you want to settle down? I can show you a few houses big enough for a husband and maybe some little Antons running around.”

Gerard is living the kind of life I would have if I’d never made it in hockey professionally. Solid career, partner, new baby. All things I want eventually, though I’m still unsure about kids—that’s future Anton’s decision.

“Ooh, I was expecting you to cringe or flinch,” Gerard says. “You’re actually thinking about it.”

“I was contemplating which would be worse, a screaming kid or nagging husband. I don’t think I could handle both.”

Gerard laughs. “Come and meet Mick. You’ll see that not all kids are screamers.”

“I’ll visit in the off-season. With the trade, this is going to be my most intense year yet. I have something to prove.”

He claps my shoulder. “I am so glad I didn’t chase after that dream. It seems stressful.”

“And being a Realtor isn’t?”

“Not with the market the way it is. I’m raking in more than you in commission alone … probably.”

I snort. “You wish. But we’ll catch up when I can. I’ll text you when I can do dinner or something.”

“In the meantime, I will continue to find you places you hate.”

I thank him as he locks up and head back to the hotel, annoyed I still haven’t found what I’m looking for.