It’s Mother-Pucking Christmas!

4. Ryder

4

RYDER

“ I bet the sex would have been dope.”

“Can you be quiet and play the game?”

I slapped a puck out of the way before an Ice Spirits player could take possession and took a shot on goal.

“Goal!” the announcer screamed.

“This is almost embarrassing,” Rick said as he skated around a demoralized Ice Spirits player. “I don’t know why they even try.”

I wished we were playing a harder team. While it was good to work out my annoyance with Dakota and her stalker granny on the ice, I really wanted a tough game so I could completely turn my brain off and not think about Dakota in Erik’s hotel room, under the covers with him and Rick.

I drove the puck down the ice, scoring another easy goal.

The Icebreakers fans went wild. My eyes swept over the sea of blue and white to a lone red spot up in the nosebleed section.

It was her.

Watching me.

Why? She said she didn’t want to date me.

“Someone’s got a new stalker,” Rick joked, skating backward.

“Why is she still here?” I complained to Mike after the final buzzer sounded. My teammates celebrated while Coach screamed at us that You don’t get to be happy about that game. We should have beat them a hundred to nothing, and why the fuck did you let that puck in the goal, Pete?

“I thought Hudson dragged your stalker off?” Mike thumped down next to me to remove his skates.

“No, her granddaughter.”

“Probably wants to ride the Zamboni.” He made a lewd motion.

I kicked him.

“Please, for the love of god, wear a condom if you fuck that girl,” Coach begged me. “We cannot have you distracted by a surprise baby.”

“Babies are a gift,” I said automatically. “Who wouldn’t want a baby?”

Coach grabbed me by the shoulders. “Teams who have a star player that fills up stadiums and sells merch. Take your condoms with you.” He stuffed a handful in my uniform.

“Don’t worry about him. Worry about Utah,” Mike joked. “Ryder wants a traditional family and marriage because he came out of foster care and wants what he didn't have to heal his wounded inner child.”

“It’s not what it’s cracked up to be.” Coach patted my face. “Trust me. I have three divorces under my belt.”

“I think if you find the right girl, from a nice family—” I said seriously.

“But not the one in the stands. She seems crazy,” Pete interjected, dabbing Liquid Nails on one of his cuts.

“Yeah, definitely not her.”