Page 50 of Broken As Puck

Jesse held on like a monkey and laughed. “Secretly, he loves it.” He turned to Drew and ruffled his hair. “You belong with me.”

Drew smacked his hand. “Never do that again.”

If I looked closely, it didn’t look like Drew hated Jesse’s attention. The slightest smile hitched one side of his mouth despite the scowl he tried to keep in place.

I laughed and leaned closer to Matt. “I think Jesse’s onto something.”

His gaze caught mine and held. “So do I.”

Something fluttered in my tummy and my heart warmed. Then, all of a sudden, my stomach plummeted.

No, no, no.

I couldn’t have warm, fuzzy feelings about Matt. I couldn’t look deep into his eyes and feel things. That wasn’t okay.

I pushed my chair back and stood. “I’ve got to go.”

His eyes widened and he put down his spoon and started to follow me as I bolted from the room. “Chelsey, wait!”

Chapter Seventeen

MATT

Chelsey turned her face toward Max and laughed, the expression lighting her up and making it impossible to look away from her. Tension coiled in my gut and my hand tightened around my hockey stick. I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to thank the other man for giving her something to laugh about or chase him the fuck away because I wanted her to look at me like that, not him.

She tilted her head to the side and her hair swished around her, glowing gold in the overhead lights. I bet it was soft. It used to be so silky. I’d loved running my hands through the strands or wrapping them around my fist as I…

“Matthews!”

I jerked around, adrenaline rushing through me at the sight of a puck hurtling toward my head. I instinctively ducked sideways, almost losing my footing as the puck whistled past my helmet, missing me by less than an inch.

“Fuck,” I breathed, flattening my hand over my hammering heart.

“What the hell?” Gauthier demanded, skating up to me. “Pay attention, man. That could have rattled your brain.”

I grimaced as I tried to get my breathing under control. “I know. Shit, I was distracted. I’ll focus now.”

Focus on the puck, not on Chelsey.

I couldn’t afford to indulge my obsession with her while I was on the ice. It was too dangerous. Never mind that I hadn’t been able to think of anything else. I’d spent more than a week now wondering if I’d done the right thing when I’d decided to let her run away during that dinner in Minnesota.

If I’d gone after her, might something have happened between us?

At least we hadn’t returned to the awkwardness of avoiding each other. When she’d seen me the next morning, she’d acted normally, so I had too. That was one thing to be grateful for.

I skated after the puck and passed it back to Gauthier. Assistant Coach Willets corralled us for two-on-one defense drills and then we all lined up and took turns trying to get the puck past first Davenport and then Schmidt. Schmidt was improving, but he still wasn’t as consistent as Davenport and couldn’t pull off the same epic saves.

As I waited my turn, I glanced over at the side of the rink, where the documentary team was interviewing Nick Kelly. They’d already spoken to Austin and me, and my guess was that they’d want Davenport next. Hopefully, I’d managed to make sense during my time with them, but I couldn’t guarantee it, considering I was dedicating too much brainpower to watching Chelsey move around in the background.

When training wrapped up, I ditched my gear in the training room but didn’t shower. I wanted to fit in a weight-based session before heading home. I squeezed out of the changing rooms, past the players still coming in, and turned toward the stairs at the very moment that Chelsey and Kim started to climb them.

As I watched, Chelsey’s ankle gave way beneath her and she jerked sideways, tripped, and tumbled to the ground. I stood, frozen to the spot for all of two seconds before I rushed over and dropped to my knees beside where she lay prone on the floor.

“Are you okay?” I asked, checking her face to see how much pain she was in before skimming my gaze down her body to her ankle. Her eyes were slightly squinty, and her lips were pressed firmly together. Her breath came more harshly than usual, and although nothing was outwardly wrong with her ankle, the way she was holding her leg told me it hurt.

Kim backtracked down the stairs. “What happened?”

“Just rolled my ankle.” Chelsey gave a hollow laugh. “Silly of me. I’ll be fine.”