Pucked Off (Pucked 5)

“The thought of being with anyone other than Randy makes me feel sick.” Lily cringes, and I drop my head.

I don’t want to see how her opinion of me has changed.

“I’m sorry, Lance. I shouldn’t have said that. It sounds judgmental, and I didn’t mean it to.”

“It’s okay. I get what you mean. How you feel is the way it’s supposed to be.”

“Still, it’s not my place to put my feelings on anyone else.” She shoves the last bite of her second sandwich in her mouth and pushes away from the table.

I’ve made her uncomfortable. But I don’t want her to look at me like there’s something wrong with me, even though there is.

“I don’t know. I kept hoping she’d decide I was enough. Stupid, huh?”

“It’s not stupid, Lance. Sometimes it’s hard to tell your heart not to want someone, even if all they do is hurt you.”Lily drives me to the south side, and I’m embarrassed to discover I can’t remember exactly which bar I went to. After twenty minutes of driving around, I finally find the place, but my Hummer isn’t on any of the surrounding streets.

Eventually I realize it’s been towed. I’m already cutting it close. I still need to go home and grab my gear before I go to the rink.

I feel like shit having Lily drive me to get my stuff and drop me off at the arena, but she’s nice about it, not making it a big deal. Still, this would’ve been easier with Randy. By the time I get to the rink, the aspirin I took this morning has worn off, and all the aches are back.

I’m stiff and slow during practice. Evan Smart, the team trainer who replaced Tash, pulls me aside.

“You wanna tell me about this?” He motions to my face.

If my shorts had pockets, my hands would be in them. “I ran into a problem last night.”

He crosses his beefy arms over his chest and waits.

“I got into it with some asshole who thought degrading women was an awesome pastime.”

“So you started a fight? Jesus, Romero, it’s pre-season. You need to keep your shit together.”

“I didn’t start it. A guy the size of a tank came after his girl, and I stepped in the way of his fist.”

Evan doesn’t look like he believes me. Which isn’t a surprise. He and I don’t like each other all that much. I’m thinking it’s ’cause he’s under the impression I’m the reason Tash lost her job. I’m also aggressive and volatile on the ice. I spend the most time in the penalty box out of all the guys on the team. Actually, out of almost all the guys in the league.

Evan sighs. “Where’s the damage?”

“I’m fine. Just a little sore. I’ll do some stretches so I’m good to go for tomorrow’s practice.” I use the hem of my shirt to wipe the sweat from my face.

“Jesus Christ, man.” Evan prevents me from dropping my shirt and covering all the bruises I’d forgotten about. “You look like you got steamrolled by a truck. You’re not fine. Is anything broken? Did you even go to the hospital?” When he tries to touch my ribs, I pull away.

“I saw a doctor last night. It’s just bruises and some glue in my eyebrow.” I smooth my shirt out.

“I want to see the X-rays and reports on that. You need to see a massage therapist at the very least, and get in a couple of physical therapy sessions if you think you’re gonna play on Sunday.”

“It looks worse than it is. I’ll be fine.”

“This is not a request. I’ll set up the appointments, and you’ll go or you’ll be benched.”

“Fine. I’ll do the therapy, but I don’t do massages.”

“Again, not a request.” He pulls out his phone and makes a call. I think I’m in the clear when the team massage therapist tells him they’re all booked up, except he gets another number and makes a second call. There are a few minutes of back and forth during which he glares at me. “In an hour? Yup. Perfect. He’ll be there.”

“Fuck.” I run a hand through my hair. I want to argue, but there isn’t an option. Explaining why I hate massages will raise more questions than I want to answer.

“Get your ass in gear, Romero. I called in a favor. You need to be on the ice on Sunday for the sake of your team, and that’s not going to happen if you don’t take care of yourself. The clinic I’m sending you to is about twenty minutes from here. Get showered and changed and go. I’ll get a call if you don’t show up, and you’ll be watching the game from your couch at home if you don’t make it.”

He messages me the directions. I hit the shower, and Randy offers to drive me since I still don’t have my vehicle. He’s got Miller with him. Apparently Sunny and Lily decided to do pedicures or some girly crap and won’t be home for a couple more hours, so they’re happy to chauffeur me around.