Puck Performance: BTU Alumni Series Book #4

by Ciz, Alley

  I do.

  “Oh god.”

  “Yeah, that’s it. It’s nice, right? God I bet you’re tight.”

  “Jason.”

  “Pump your fingers in and out. Don’t stop until you come.”

  The cliff is right there, waiting for me to fall.

  “Jase.”

  “I know, baby. I’m right there with you.”

  If the speed of his strokes are anything to go by, he is.

  Our movements sync.

  Up and down for him. In and out for me.

  Up.

  Down.

  In.

  Out.

  “Jas—”

  I bury my face in my pillow to muffle my cries as I hear him roar.

  I have no idea how long I lie there, hand in my pants, lungs heaving as I try to recover.

  If he can make me come like this over the phone, how the hell am I going to survive him in person?

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  THE BIG HAMMER: *picture of Mrs. Potato Head with a hand over her face.*

  THE BIG HAMMER: I think we may have scared Mrs. PH last night.

  BROADWAY BABY: I told you they are children’s toys. Just because the box says suitable for children ages 2 and up doesn’t mean they should be hanging out with people in their 20s. At least not the way we used them.

  THE BIG HAMMER: I don’t know. I think our way of using them was way more imaginative than anything I came up with as a kid.

  BROADWAY BABY: WHEN you were a kid? I know LEGALLY you’re an adult, but mentally…

  THE BIG HAMMER: Ouch, Sweet Potato *knife emoji*

  BROADWAY BABY: *GIF of chimp playing the piano with the caption “DRAMATIC MUSIC!”*

  THE BIG HAMMER: I miss you.

  BROADWAY BABY: Miss you too *kissing emoji*

  * * *

  I reach for the pitcher of beer Zoey placed on the table to refill my cup. Ella took the night off and we decided to make the most of it watching the NHL All-Star Skills Competition at The Sin Bin. Much to their disappointment, I’m not wearing a Storm shirt like them.

  I may have given in and worn Jase’s jersey to the game, but my heart belongs to the Bruisers. Still, in an effort to be a supportive girlfriend, I am wearing the shirt Jase gave me the other night and sent him a picture.

  I’ll give you three guesses what’s on it.

  Figured it out?

  No?

  Okay, I’ll tell you. Mr. Ridiculous got me a shirt with—yes, you guessed it, even if you didn’t—potatoes on it. This one is two potatoes high-fiving, and underneath them it says ‘Best Spuddies.’ He’s such a dork, but he’s my dork.

  Also…it should come as no surprise that he got himself the same shirt.

  So far the BTU Alumni are two for two, with Tucker Hayes taking home the title for fastest skater and Jase’s brother Ryan decimating the competition in the puck control challenge.

  We’re seven goalies in on the save streak challenge, with Jake Donovan being the last to step between the pipes. Normally a goalie faces one player from each team in a selected division, but with so many players coming from BTU, they switched it up and he’s only facing those who used to be Titans—plus Cali.

  Jake’s already edged out San Jose’s goalie, Hall, by one goal, and now the guys are huddled at center ice. After all the stories I heard last night, I can only imagine what they are all plotting.

  They break and Tucker heads for his shot, but instead of taking a breakaway for the net, he starts twirling like an ice dancer, using his stick as his dance partner.

  “What in the world?” Ella exclaims next to me.

  I’m pretty sure things are about to take an entertaining turn.

  Tucker misses, unsurprisingly.

  I scoot forward, literally on the edge of my seat as I see Jase take the puck. He gets into position and then Cali is jumping on his back, and the two jokesters of the NY Storm try their hand at the man nicknamed The Brick Wall.

  After Jake blocks the shot, he holds out his arms as if to ask, That’s all you got?

  Wade Tanner skates out, but instead of going to center ice, he goes behind the opposite goal, the audience in the arena and inside the bar silent, all of us waiting with bated breath for what is going to happen next.

  He holds an arm in the air, and the four others hustle to join him.

  “Oh my god.” I laugh as the five of them skate out in a V shape, passing the puck between them as they head for Jake. “He just called for the flying V.”

  “Well, they messed that up then because it’s the captain who is supposed to call for it,” Zoey states in a display of her own knowledge of The Mighty Ducks.

  “The only thing that surprises me is they didn’t have the jerseys ready to go.”

  “You better text Loverboy and tell him how disappointed we are about that oversight.” Zoey puts on a good front of being serious, but it cracks the instant she looks my way.

  On the TV we hear the announcers say, “Should have gone with the knuckle puck,” as Jake makes a glove save.

  “Can we please watch the trilogy this weekend?” Ella asks.

  “Oh, but I always cry when Hans dies in the third one.” Zoey pouts.

  “Yeah, but the guy from The Sandlot is so hot in it.” Ella says this like she’s a lawyer who just rested her case.

  “He’s in two”—I hold up my fingers in a peace sign—“of the Mighty Duck movies. Don’t you think you should know his character’s name?” I take another sip of my beer.

  “Nope.” Ella shakes her head, her ponytail whipping her in the face, snagging on the long lashes framing her almond-shaped eyes. “He will always be Benny the Jet to me.” A hand goes over her heart. “All I’m saying is the guy did some good growing up.”

  My beer sprays the table at her comment.

  Using a napkin to clean up both the table and my face, I focus back on the TV where Cali is about to take his turn. He gets into position, bending over, one hand at the top of his stick, the other halfway down, but then he straightens and looks toward the team benches. He waves to someone, gesturing for whoever it is to come out.

  Every eye in the bar is riveted to the screen. Freddie even turned the volume up to hear the announcers. “Looks like even the youngest Donnelly is getting in on the fun.”

  Sean Donnelly and Cali huddle together, and the way their bodies are hunched over, it’s hard to make out what they are doing. A few seconds later, Sean reaches underneath his Blizzards jersey and pulls out one of those mini souvenir hockey sticks you see in gift shops.

  “Callahan isn’t actually going to use that, is he?” The disbelief in Ella’s voice is clear.

  “I think so,” I say as, sure enough, Cali retakes his position. Looking like the Hunchback of Notre Dame, he skates for his shot and misses.

  “This is the best thing ever.” Zoey throws her arms in the air, doing a little dance in her seat. “It’s just like when they used to do the breakaway challenge a few years ago.”

  She’s right. Through the years, the challenges have evolved or are switched out for others, but the couple of years the NHL did the breakaway challenge were some of the most fun to watch. It was a lot like the slam dunk contest the NBA does during their skills competitions.

  None of us are really basketball fans, but we love to watch the crazy ideas the players come up with to dunk the ball. We even make sure to set our DVR for all the sports’ all-star-type challenges if we are working during them.

  The camera pans to the benches again, and I see Jordan hand a hockey stick to Ryan before he skates out for his attempt. He hands the stick to Sean when he gets to center ice, and I can tell it must be his because it’s the proper size for a nine-year-old.

  Sean takes the puck and positions himself at about a forty-five degree angle from his oldest brother, scooping the puck on the blade of his stick and tossing it to Ryan, who catches it on his own blade, something that is extremely hard to do.

  Ryan juggles the puck with
his stick, tossing and catching it over and over then circling the stick this way and that, never letting it drop, once again proving he’s one of the best puck handlers in the league, if not the best.

  “How long do you think they’ll keep this up?” Ella asks when Ryan misses.

  “No idea.” I could honestly watch this all night.

  Again all five convene in a huddle before pulling in Sean to join them. The youngest Donnelly is so much smaller than the others that when he gets folded into the group, he disappears like a kid playing in racks of clothes.

  This huddle takes longer than the first, and when they finally break, it’s Sean who has the puck. He stands there, shifting his feet back and forth on the ice, waiting. For what, I’m not sure.

  The announcers are speculating amongst themselves until Jake’s little sister—in her own Jake Donovan Blizzards jersey—skates out to pass off a pair of black hockey gloves.

  Jase told me all about how close Sean and Carlee are, and I snort when he gives her a kiss on the cheek as he accepts the gloves. Looks like charm runs in the family.

  I don’t know if it’s because he’s the only one taking the shot seriously, or if Jake gave him a gimme—I suspect the latter—but Sean’s shot finds the upper corner of the net, finally bringing an end to the competition.

  I drain my beer and immediately reach to refill it. I gotta be prepared because the next two challenges are what Jase is known for.

  I can’t wait to see what happens.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The Skills Competition is my favorite day of the All-Star Weekend. Through the years, the challenges have varied, but this year there are six: premier passer, fastest skater, save streak, puck control, hardest shot, and accuracy shooting.

  I’m trying my best to stay out of my head and enjoy the day for the good time it’s meant to be. JD is already gushing over the clickbait we turned the save streak challenge into, and she seems to have forgiven me for my post against Bishop. Why can’t I shake off the anxiety of being compared to Ryan?

  Outside of us both taking part as shooters in the save streak challenge, we don’t even directly compete against each other.

  A part of me wishes I could get away with calling Mels, because she always has a way of making everything—winning the Cup, the pressure I feel about trying to prove myself outside of being Ryan Donnelly’s bother, all the bullshit—fade away.

  Even now, as I lean against the boards in front of one of the team benches, I can’t help but think of my girl.

  JD has Jake’s Optimus Prime goalie mask propped on top of her head like a hat while the two of them canoodle over the half wall, my sister staying safely off the ice.

  The two of them have been hashtag couple goals since college, and with Mels I finally feel like I’ve found my shot at it.

  Ryan and Wade are hanging with the lovebirds while Tucker and Cali—an honorary member of the BTU Alumni contingent—are joking around with Sean and Carlee about my little brother’s goal. The two youngins have been among the family members allowed on the ice since Ryan’s first All-Star appearance his rookie season.

  “I still can’t believe you weren’t the one to score on Jake, Tuck.” Carlee lives for taunting her brother’s best friend.

  “I was taking it easy on him, Car.” Tucker holds out a fist to bump. The way my fuckboy of a friend completely melts for the kids has always been one of my favorite things to witness.

  “Don’t let him lie to you, babe. None of them bring it like me.” Sean thumps his chest twice then throws out his arms.

  “How does Mom put up with your ego?” Ryan pulls Sean into a headlock and ruffles his hair.

  “She was well practiced after dealing with yours for years.”

  “Burn!” Tucker cries, stretching out his arm for another fist bump, the two of them blowing it up at the end.

  “You ever worry about what he’ll be like once he surpasses all of us in his career?” Jake asks me as he leans around Cali.

  “Honestly”—I look over to where Sean and Carlee are laughing together—“if Carlee wasn’t in his life, I’d be afraid he’d turn out like Tuck.”

  “Hey!” Tuck shoves me to the side.

  “What?” I hold my hands up in surrender. “I’m just saying that kid has every ounce of game and swagger we have—as much as all of us put together. Combine that with how promising of a hockey player he’s proving to be, and homeboy will slay it with the girls.”

  “Truth.” Tucker agrees. “He will be crushing pussy.”

  “Tucker!” JD yells, and Jake reaches out to slap him upside the head.

  “Sorry, Blondie.”

  “You better be, BB3.”

  “He totally will though.” Cali’s whisper isn’t as quiet as he thinks, and now he’s the one being smacked.

  “I swear the twins are more mature than all of you.” JD pulls out her phone to take some behind-the-scenes footage to use on our social media accounts.

  Tuck has been in rare form after winning the day’s first event—fastest skater. I’m waiting for premier passer, my first event.

  The Zamboni has already finished resurfacing the ice, and we’re just waiting for coordinators to finish setting up.

  There are three parts to the challenge. First, I get ten pucks to successfully pass from behind the net to three plastic hockey player cutouts in front of it.

  Next, I have to get a puck in four different mini nets. The size of the net isn’t the challenging part; it’s having to bounce the puck over a plastic barrier in front of it that’s tough.

  Finally, I have to hit four of the five targets set up at the opposite end of the rink when they are lit, with the targets changing every three seconds. The player who completes all three in the least amount of time is the winner.

  I’ve won this event both times I’ve competed in it, and I’m not looking to have that change. The title I would like to get back is hardest shot. Fucking Nate Bishop stole it from me last year.

  The lights inside the arena dim, and everyone not competing in the premier passer challenge exits the ice to sit on the team benches. They announce all the players in the order they will compete, my teeth snapping together when I hear them call Bishop’s name right before mine as the last competitor.

  The tension in my jaw only intensifies when Bishop is the only one who manages to come close to my time from last year of one minute ten seconds.

  “Sure you can handle this, Donnelly? Or are you going to need your little brother to come out and take care of this one for you too?” Bishop says as we pass each other on the ice.

  I deserve a medal for not engaging with him.

  “Or maybe we should have your sister try. I’d even be willing to teach her the proper way to handle a stick.”

  Sonofabitch.

  I go from Bruce Banner to the Hulk in zero seconds flat. My stick clatters on the ice and my gloves bounce in opposite directions as I toss them down with a flick of my wrist. I surge forward, grab him by the front of his sweater, and haul him inches from my face.

  I’m seething, full-on raging at this asshole.

  “I dare you to say something else about JD.” I move in even closer, our noses brushing.

  Hatred burns in his eyes as he glares at me. Well, join the club, motherfucker. The feeling is more than mutual.

  I couldn’t tell you why I never mentioned anything about the shit he’s spewed through the years. Maybe it’s because she’s my twin and I feel like it’s my responsibility, or maybe I’m just trying to keep the peace and keep everyone out of jail. Who knows.

  I release my grip, shoving him away hard enough that we both glide backward.

  “Buckle up, buttercup, and watch what an Olympic-level player can do.”

  I give him a wink as I take my own dig.

  I may have my hang-ups about being compared to Ryan, but I sure as shit know I’m better than Nate Bishop.

  Time to fucking prove it.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine />
  THE BIG HAMMER: *picture of sweet potato fries*

  BROADWAY BABY: Do I even want to ask?

  THE BIG HAMMER: They’re sweet potato fries.

  BROADWAY BABY: Yes, I can see that, All-Star. But why are you sending me a picture of them?

  THE BIG HAMMER: I wanted you to know I miss you and I’m thinking about you, my little sweet potato.

  BROADWAY BABY: *GIF of girl rolling her eyes*

  THE BIG HAMMER: *boomerang of Jase winking*

  BROADWAY BABY: Dammit!

  THE BIG HAMMER: Hehe.

  BROADWAY BABY: OMG. Did you really just type hehe?

  THE BIG HAMMER: Don’t hate.

  BROADWAY BABY: *facepalm emoji* I really do need to change your contact name to ‘I can’t even.’

  THE BIG HAMMER: You know *thinking face emoji* I’m a little disappointed you haven’t asked me the most important question of all.

  BROADWAY BABY: Why don’t you share with the class?

  THE BIG HAMMER: You asked me why I sent you the picture but not WHY I’m eating them.

  BROADWAY BABY: Um…because you’re hungry and I’m sure Gemma would rather you eat them than regular French fries?

  THE BIG HAMMER: While I’m sure that’s true and all, no, that’s not why I’m eating them…but if Gem asks, yes that’s why.