Page 64 of Lucky Puck

Then Jett would kick Bianca’s ass out of his agency. Before I can spin out my speculations any further, Ax puts out a hand to me.

I take it, and he hauls me in for a sideways hug and back thump.

“Later. See you at the rink.” He wiggles his brows. “Don’t be too late.”

I give him the finger because no way am I going to be late. Even if I’m not skating, I’ll be at the meeting and in the training room for some work, and I especially want to be there when Doc Scully gets the results from the CT scan.

When the door closes behind Ax, Bianca and I are standing there in the kitchen on opposite sides of the massive marble-topped island, a gleaming barrier between us.

Never mind that we’re wearing matching gold wedding bands.

“Coach.” I nod from where I sit in the ice pool. “Don’t mind me if I don’t stand.”

Jason Hall, a fellow center in his fifth year, sits in the ice pool next to me and snorts a laugh.

“Sabe tells us there’s going to be a belated wedding reception for you and Bianca Brooks. I’m looking forward to it.”

I’m speechless for a flicker, thinking murderous thoughts about Sabien and trying to figure out the best way to maim him without keeping him off the ice. A tattoo of the devil on his butt maybe? His wife would never speak to me again, but it might be worth it. Shit. A wedding reception will involve inviting my family, and there’s no way I want to go through that level of deception.

I’m not sure my acting skills would hold up to my mom’s scrutiny. And there’s no way I can tell her the truth about the stuck wedding band and the Vegas chorus girl.

“You okay?” Coach says when I don’t respond.

I force a smile and nod. I don’t know what else to say that might be appropriate for a newlywed with his marriage possibly on the rocks—because we have to make that part of the story work too—for when we call it quits. Shit, this is messed up.

Without prompting, he adds, “The transition from honeymoon to real life can be tough, especially when it’s sudden, as in your case.”

I groan inside because my coach is actually feeding me his wisdom about married life. The devil himself, Sabien, enters the room behind Coach, slapping me on the back and rescuing me from this conversation with Coach.

I’d be grateful, but since he’s the cause of the trouble, I want to punch him. The urge to punch him is becoming so frequent I’m starting to worry I might haul off and actually give him a bloody nose one day soon.

Hopefully, my patience outlasts my marriage. I mean fake-marriage.

“You about finished here?” Sabe asks.

Jason climbs from the pool in answer, and I follow suit.

Doc Scully comes into the locker room following the team after the guys come in for the skate around. I’m toweling off from my session in the ice pool, planning optimistically for getting game time tonight. Jason is dressing in the cubby next to me.

“You’re just the two I wanted to see,” Doc says, looking annoyed like he’s been hunting for us.

“We were chilling together in the ice pool, pun intended,” I say. Jason laughs. Doc doesn’t.

“I got your latest MRI results back, Jason, and I got your CT scan results, Brody. Follow me to my office.”

Coach Logan and Assistant Coach Nash join us in Doc’s office, and it’s standing room only. Coach Logan closes the door behind him and stands with his arms folded, wearing the best poker face I’ve ever seen.

My heart hammers unnecessarily, but I manage to keep my face passive. I shouldn’t be sweating this game as if my whole career depends on it, but I’ve been on edge ever since All-Star weekend began. I thumb the wedding band on my finger. The move is getting to be a habit.

An image of Bianca takes shape in my mind, and what a shape she has—voluptuous, soft, and ready for sin. And the way she⁠—

“Have a seat, boys.” Doc gestures for me and Jason to sit in his two guest chairs. I’d rather not sit, but this is no time to be a dick. Jason remains silent and sits. So do I.

“Spill it, Doc. Am I playing tonight or not?” I temper my impatience with a grin.

He scowls. “You play—but with very limited playing time. You’ll need to ease your way back into competitive-level activity. Work at 50 percent at tomorrow’s practice and work your way up to a hundred percent incrementally over the next week. We’ll increase your playing time by a few minutes a game until you’re back to full scale.” He stops and checks to see if I’ve absorbed his message.

“I get it. Ease back into activity.”