Suck My Puck (Denver Bashers Series #3)

8. Braden

Chapter 8

Braden

W hen I walk into Spanky’s, it’s more crowded than usual. Every table and booth is full.

Luckily, Maya, Ingrid, and Dakota are already at our table with a couple pitchers of beer and shots.

Xander, Theo, Del, and I walk over. Theo and Del greet their ladies with kisses, and we all sit down.

“Sophie’s not here?” Theo asks.

Xander shakes his head. “She’s speaking at a women in STEM conference tomorrow morning and wanted to get a good night’s sleep for it.”

“That’s cool,” Theo says.

Xander beams. “It is. I wish I could go watch her speak, but I’ve got conditioning in the morning.”

“If you ever have kids, they’re going to be geniuses,” Ingrid says as she pours a glass of beer for her and Del to share.

“As long as they don’t inherit your brain,” Del deadpans. Ingrid gently elbows him, but Xander laughs.

“Nah, you’re right,” Xander says. “I want Sophie to pass her genius brain to our kids. I don’t want them to be a dumbass like me.”

Maya pats his shoulder. “Aww, Xander, you’re not a dumbass. None of us are as smart as Sophie. Not even close”

Sophie is a legit genius. She tested out of most of grade school and middle school. She completed high school in just two years and went to medical school when she was a teenager. At twenty-five, she’s the youngest team doctor in NHL history.

Xander glances over at me. “She fix up your shoulder?”

“Yeah. She told me to ice it and rest for the next few days.”

Dakota passes me a shot, and I tell her thanks before downing it. I listen in on Del and Theo’s conversation about how their fantasy football teams are performing before I notice Maya and Ingrid having a conversation in hushed tones. Ingrid shows her phone to Maya, who sports a concerned look on her face. Her big brown eyes dart to me. Her tan skin flushes red before she looks at Ingrid.

“What’s going on?” I ask them.

They exchange another concerned look. It’s a second before Ingrid speaks. “There’s a meme going around about you on social media.”

I frown. “What?”

She opens her mouth, then quickly closes it. Then she tugs at her long blonde hair, which is in a messy braid, clearly hesitant to tell me.

“Wait, is it bad?” I ask.

She bites her lip before she shows me her phone. When I look at the screen, I see a gif of me from tonight’s game crashing into the net right after Sam collided with me.

I skim the text below the gift .

That feeling when you’re the worst goalie in the NHL

An ugly feeling rips through my gut.

I know I shouldn’t read the comments underneath the gif, but I do.

Dude is past his prime.

How the fuck is this the same Braden Blomdahl that dominated just a few months ago?

Blomdahl is terrible. I hope the Bashers trade him. Literally anyone would be better than him.

Can you believe he’s one of the highest-paid goalies in the league?

This guy gets paid $7.5 million a year to suck

Dude just can’t get it together. It’s pretty sad to watch his decline.

You suck, Blomdahl!

Theo, Xander, and Del all lean in to look.

I fall back in my chair, a weird mix of anger and shame coursing through me.

“I’m so sorry, Blomdahl,” Ingrid says. “Memes like that are so dumb. I’m planning to post some cool new content on the Bashers’ Instagram and TikTok starting tomorrow. People will lose interest in that meme soon, I promise.”

I force a laugh. “It’s fine. Hockey fans post stuff like that often.”

It’s true, but it doesn’t make it sting any less.

Because they’re right. I’m not as good as I was last season. I’m struggling, and millions of sports fans are watching, judging me for it.

I know this is the nature of sports. And the nature of sports media and social media. People love you when you’re playing well, but the minute you falter, they turn on you so hard and so fast .

It’s all part of playing pro sports. I should just let it roll off my back.

But I can’t. Because deep down, it kills me to know that so many people think so little of me. And it confirms my biggest insecurity: That I’m not good enough. That I don’t belong here.

I swallow through the ache in my throat and down another shot.

“Don’t pay attention to that shit,” Del says. “You know the person who made that meme is probably some loser living in his grandma’s basement.”

“Yeah. Dude probably couldn’t hold a hockey stick to save his life,” Theo says.

“He’d never say that shit to your face,” Xander says. “All those keyboard warriors say the meanest crap, but deep down they’re cowards.”

I try to smile. “You guys are probably right.”

Ingrid aims a hopeful smile at me. “You’re still getting plenty of support from the team’s female fans. Look.”

She shows me her phone again and I scan some of the comments.

I don’t care how he plays. He’s hot.

I heard he has a dick piercing. That’s all I care about. SEXY!

Still my favorite hockey eye candy #hotgoalie

Those guys are just jealous haters #hotgoalie

I force another laugh. I guess it’s nice that some people think I’m attractive, but that doesn’t take away from how much it hurts to know that so many fans think I suck.

I stand up, needing a second to myself. “I gotta piss.”

I make my way to the men’s room on the other side of the bar. As good as it feels to have my teammates and friends defend me, I still feel like shit. Like I’m not good enough. Like I’m on the verge of losing everything that matters to me.

I do my business, wash up, and make my way through the crowded space back to my table. As I turn the corner around the bar, I bump into someone.

“Crap, sorry…”

I look down and see Bella glaring at me. “Watch it.”

“Sorry. It’s just a little crowded in here right now.”

She rolls her eyes. “Do you always mutter ‘sorry’ like you don’t even mean it when you apologize?”

I stare at her, thrown off by her hard tone. “What’s your problem?”

She wipes down the counter along the edge of the bar, then stacks a bunch of stray coasters. “I’m just not a fan of being smacked into by a guy almost twice my size.”

For a second, I just stand there and look at her, processing her hard tone.

I don’t get why she’s so upset at me. Things between us were fine yesterday until the sex toy incident. And even then, she didn’t seem mad. Mostly embarrassed and flustered.

“Wait, are you mad at me?” I ask.

She stacks a bunch of empty glasses and hands them to the bartender on the other side of the bar.

“Nope. I’m super, duper happy. I’ve never been happier in my life than standing right here talking to you in this crowded bar that smells like piss and smoke and beer.”

She makes a disgusted sound before walking to another table and clearing it.

I stand there, shocked at her brashness. I should probably just leave her alone and drop this whole thing. But I don’t.

That’s all I’ve been doing lately. Shoving aside my frustrations. Holding back my feelings. Giving polite answers to people who don’t deserve them.

I’m fed up with all that bullshit. I’m tired of taking the high road, of giving a media-ready, rehearsed response instead of saying what I actually feel.

That’s not how Bella speaks to me. So I’m not going to speak like that to her either.

I walk over to her. “Are you still pissed because of the sex toy thing yesterday?” I blurt, my tone hard.

Her eyes look like they’re on the verge of bulging out of her head. She glances around the noisy bar like she’s scared someone heard us.

I roll my eyes. “No one’s even paying attention to us.”

She steps up to me and pokes her finger into my chest. The shocked look on her face has faded. Now she’s glaring at me. “I told you never to mention that.”

“Come on, Bella. Don’t be like that.”

“Like what?” she says through gritted teeth.

“Like you’re some repressed little flower. You’re not. You’ve got a freak flag, just like the rest of us. It’s okay to let it fly.”

Her full cheeks flush. She looks so cute and flustered. I start to laugh. Her glare sharpens. She looks like she’s about to kill me.

I lean down closer to her. “I’m giving you shit. Your secret sex toy stash isn’t a big deal. At all. It’s pretty tame, actually.”

Her mouth parts open, like she’s shocked and intrigued and confused at the same time.

I quirk my eyebrow at her. I’m being such a smug asshole right now. But honestly? It feels good. Yeah, we don’t like each other. We’re snapping at each other and tensions are running high…but it’s one hundred percent ho nest. There’s nothing superficial or fake about any conversation I’ve ever had with Bella. And after having to fake so much in my career right now, I really, really like that I can be real with her.

There’s a flash in her bright, golden eyes. “You think I’m tame?”

The soft growl of her voice catches me off guard. She steps closer to me. The tip of her boot hits the tip of my sneaker. We’re so close that I can feel her hot breath ghost across my lips when she exhales.

I try to play it cool and shrug. “Your sex toy collection implies that you might be a little tame.”

She opens her mouth to speak, but then a guy sitting at the table behind her shoots up from his chair and screams while watching the baseball game on the flatscreen TV. His chair bumps into her and she falls forward, crashing into me.

I grab her waist to steady her right as her face brushes against mine.

And then her lips land on my mouth…

It happens almost automatically. I don’t know who’s the first to initiate the kiss. All I know is that her lips feel so fucking good on mine.

I hum against her mouth.

Holy shit .

Her lips are like silk. I glide my tongue along the seam of her mouth, moaning at how sweet she tastes.

Fuck. I could kiss this girl for hours.

But then my brain catches up.

Bella didn’t mean to kiss me. She bumped into me on accident, which means I need to stop this right now.

I pull away and step back. I stare at her, dazed and a little nervous. She stares at me, those rich, golden eyes as wide as saucers. She looks freaked out.

Shit.

A knot forms in my stomach. I should have stepped away from her the second she fell against me. What the hell was I thinking?

My dick twitches in my pants. I wasn’t thinking, not with my brain, at least.

“I-I’m sorry…”

She holds up a hand, cutting me off. The focus returns to her eyes. She grabs my hand and pulls me behind her as she walks through the crowded bar toward the restrooms. She stops at the end of the hallway, just outside of the men’s room.

I huff out a breath. “I didn’t mean to?—”

She pushes me against the wall, grabs my face, and kisses me. Hard.