Suck My Puck (Denver Bashers Series #3)

3. Braden

Chapter 3

Braden

S weat trickles down my face as I stand guard in the net. My heart hammers in my chest as I track the puck on the ice.

The left winger from the Dallas Commanders has possession and speeds toward me. All the muscles in my body tighten.

We’re six minutes from the end of the first period, and already I’ve let in three goals. My team is losing because of me. I can’t let another one in.

The winger zeroes in on me and winds up for a shot. He shoots and I dive, blocking it. Relief washes over me. But it only lasts for a split second.

Because then a Dallas defenseman appears from behind the winger and takes a shot. Panic rockets through me as I scramble to cover the other side of the net.

I kick my leg up, hoping I block the shot. But I’m a half-second too late. The puck lands in the net. The Dallas players scream and celebrate. The home crowd groans.

I yell out a curse, anger and frustration pummeling through me like a tidal wave. Then dread .

I know what’s coming next.

Coach Porter calls a time-out. I take a moment to guzzle water before I look at him. Anything to delay the inevitable.

When I finally make eye contact with Porter, he’s already looking at me. He gives the head nod, and that’s it. I’m out of the game.

The dread settles like razor blades in my stomach. I haven’t been pulled for a shitty performance like this in over a year.

As I skate to the bench, my body is rigid with frustration. What the fuck is wrong with me?

When I make it to the bench, Ritchie Fox, the other goalie on the team, hops out. He taps me with his stick and offers a pitying stare.

We don’t exchange words. We don’t have to. We both know how much it sucks to have a bad night in the net.

When I sit down at the team bench, a restless wave of energy courses through me.

I didn’t use to be like this, diving all over the net, scrambling to make a save.

I used to hold my positions well and not have to do split saves or dramatic dives to keep the puck out of the net. I used to be the goalie who held onto the puck every time it hit me.

Not anymore though.

Why the fuck can’t I get it together?

The anger inside of me bubbles up, turning to rage. Before I can stop myself, I slam my stick against the barrier. It cracks in half, falling onto the ice.

My teammates on the bench jolt back. From the corner of my eye, I can see them all staring at me in shock.

I’ve never, ever lashed out like this .

I just don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to fix what’s wrong with me. I don’t know how to be better.

A wave of insecurity shoots through me.

Maybe this is it. Maybe I already hit my peak last season. Maybe I’m not good anymore.

A sick, uneasy feeling gnaws at my gut.

Someone pats my shoulder. I look up and see Del sitting next to me, frowning at me like he’s concerned.

“It’s just an off night. We all have them,” he says.

I don’t say anything. I know he’s just trying to be a good teammate, but his words mean nothing.

Because I know whatever I’m going through is deeper than that. And I need to figure out how to fix it before I lose everything.

“How about another pitcher of beer?” Xander asks.

He glances at me across our usual table at Spanky’s, the dive bar just outside of downtown Denver that we almost always hang out at after home games.

“You know I hate beer,” I say, glancing down at my glass of Scotch.

“You wanna do some shots then?” he asks.

I shake my head. “I’m not in the mood for shots.”

Xander nods like he understands, then hops up from our table and heads to the bar.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, dude,” Theo says. “Dallas has been on fire in the preseason. We knew they were going to kick our ass.”

“It’s just one loss. We’ve got a whole season to dominate,” Del says.

I cringe at my teammates’ words. I know they’re trying to make me feel better, but I hate it. I hate that I’m the reason we lost our first game of the season.

I drain the rest of the Scotch in my glass and look at them. “Look, I appreciate you guys trying to make me feel better, but it’s not what I need to hear right now.”

“What do you need?” Del asks.

I shoot out a breath and lean back in my chair. “I wish I knew.”

“I know what you need,” Xander says as he sits down, a fresh pitcher of beer in hand.

I flick at my empty glass. “What’s that?”

“To get laid.”

Theo laughs. Del frowns at him. I roll my eyes.

“I’m serious,” Xander says. “That used to be your old ritual. Getting laid the night before a game. You were on fire. Why’d you ever stop?”

“Because the last time I did that, we lost right before going into the playoffs. I figured I needed to change things up. And since then, it’s worked.”

Xander pushes his floppy brown hair out of his eyes. “Yeah, well, maybe now it’s time to change it up again.”

I don’t say anything.

“I mean it,” Xander says. “You’re a goalie. You’re all about rituals. Why not try a new one?”

“Leave it to the manwhore to suggest getting laid as the solution to your problem,” Theo jokes.

Xander shoves his shoulder, but he’s smiling. “ Former manwhore. And you’re one to talk. You used to sleep around like it was an Olympic sport.”

Theo flashes that smug, pretty boy smile he’s known for. “Yeah, I did. Not anymore though.”

He looks down at the gold band on his left ring finger. He’s been married for almost two years to his wife, Maya. It’s kind of nuts, honestly. I never thought he’d be the kind of guy who’d want to settle down, but I’ve never seen him so happy.

“We should start a club.” Xander grins. “Former manwhores who are now happily married to amazing women.”

Theo chuckles and fist-bumps him. “I’m in.”

“Jesus,” Del mutters behind the rim of his beer glass before taking a sip. “You two are weird.”

Xander tosses a napkin at him. “Oh, come on. Don’t act like you’re any different. You’re a simp for Ingrid, and you fucking love it.”

The stern expression Del normally wears ease after a second. The corner of his mouth hooks up as he starts to smile. “Fuck yeah, I’m a simp for my girl.”

“Atta boy!” Xander hollers. Del chuckles. Theo makes a grossed-out face.

“I don’t wanna hear anymore about you and my cousin,” Theo says. Del rolls his eyes.

Ingrid is Theo’s cousin and is also in charge of the Bashers’ social media accounts. She’s helped the team gain popularity through an impressive social media campaign she started last season.

Theo and Del couldn’t stand each other when Del first joined the team last spring. For years, Del was known as the dirtiest player in the league, doling out cheap hits and brawling over every little thing. Before he joined the Bashers, we’d all fought with him countless times.

So when Theo noticed that Del liked Ingrid, he hated him even more. Can’t say that I blame him. If I had a sister or a close female relative, I wouldn’t be thrilled for her to date my teammate either, especially one that I fought with constantly .

But when it became clear that Ingrid and Del were serious, Theo eventually came around. He and Del worked out their differences and are pretty good friends now.

“Look, all I’m saying is that maybe getting your dick wet the night before games could help,” Xander says.

I look at him. “What the hell does Sophie see in you? She’s a genius. And you sound like a teenage boy when you talk.”

Xander flashes a smug smile and leans back in his chair. “I don’t know. I just know I’m one lucky bastard.”

“I still can’t believe Coach Porter is okay with you being with his daughter,” Theo says. “I was positive he was going to murder you when he found out you two were dating.”

“Well, he didn’t. And he’s cool with me being engaged to Sophie, so it all worked out,” Xander says.

Xander’s fiancee is Sophie Porter, our coach’s daughter and the team doctor. She was a child prodigy who finished medical school in her early twenties. Kind of nuts to think a brainiac like her and a himbo like Xander could be such a good couple.

Xander turns to me. “Seriously, though. Think about what I said.”

I sigh. He’s not wrong. I used to hook up with someone the night before a game, and it worked like a charm. But just the thought of approaching a woman and trying to flirt with her doesn’t even seem appealing. I feel like such a fucking loser with how badly I’ve been playing.

Xander glances around the half-full bar.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Checking to see if there are any pretty ladies for you.”

I let out an annoyed groan.

“You’re into redheads, right?” he asks while looking at the back of the bar .

I roll my eyes. “It’s not happening, dude. I’m not feeling it.”

Xander keeps looking around the bar, not even listening to me.

“This is a dive bar,” I say to him. “The only people who ever come here are us, your guys’ significant others, and middle-aged regulars. Not really my type.”

Xander looks over at the bar and starts to smile. He turns to look at me. “You sure about that? Looks like they hired a new bartender. And she’s hot.”

I turn to look and almost choke. Because there’s my new neighbor pouring drinks at the bar.