Fox (The Player Book 4)

by Nana Malone

  It was something Fox would have said once, but with sincerity.

  A bunch of us want to treat you to a dinner somewhere nice to celebrate—don’t worry, I already made sure we ruled out that place you used to work. She wondered if Ryan even remembered the name of the restaurant she’d worked at for four years. Looking forward to seeing you, and congratulating you in person. I’ve missed you, and maybe we can find some time tomorrow to talk, just the two of us.

  The last thing she wanted was to talk alone with Ryan…or maybe it was the second-to-last thing she wanted. No, it was definitely last, because as much as she dreaded facing Fox and figuring out if they could even be friends moving forward, she longed to talk to him about Ryan’s message and hear him call Ryan a prick and hypocrite.

  She still felt like a horrible person when she roused herself to join Echo and Jen in the kitchen for coffee, but the promise of caffeine assured her she would be able to survive the day—even if it involved Ryan.

  As it turned out, it wasn’t Echo and Jen she’d heard stirring in the kitchen, but rather Echo and her boyfriend, Cole. She was busy measuring out scoops of ground coffee into the filter while he stood behind her, shirtless with his hands on her hips, kissing her neck. From his profile alone, Sasha couldn’t help but stare for a moment. He was awfully pretty.

  “Oh,” Sasha blurted, startling them all the same. “Sorry. I, uh…I’ll just…go take a shower…” she muttered.

  “It’s all right, Sash,” Echo assured her, amusement in her voice. “We’re behaving, I promise.”

  There was a low murmur from Cole that earned him a playful slap from Echo. He took over prepping the coffee machine, glancing over his shoulder to greet Sasha with a brief smile but keeping his body turned away from her. She’d seen Fox do the same thing enough times to recognize and appreciate his attempts to conceal his morning wood. Echo flew into distraction mode, ushering Sasha over to a cabinet where she could pick from several breakfast cereals.

  “Have you heard anything from Fox?” Sasha made herself ask.

  “No,” Echo admitted. “But Dax said he and Asha are going to Fox’s game today. He’s going to try to talk to him. I mean…from an objective perspective, the story you did is great. And I’m sure Fox wouldn’t want you to compromise your skill or the possibilities for your future by not doing a story just because it was uncomfortable for him. It’s your job.”

  “I know, and that’s exactly why I should have just told him about it before,” Sasha reiterated as she poured Corn Flakes into the bowl Echo had retrieved for her. “But I blew it. Both with my timing and with how I told him.”

  “Now that he’s had some time to let it all sink in, I think he’ll be over being angry and hurt,” Echo said with forced optimism, pulling open a drawer and grabbing Sasha a spoon. “Dax’ll help talk him around. If you don’t know that Fox was what inspired that story, you wouldn’t be able to tell just by watching it. Sure there’s some footage of him, but he’s not the main focus. The story shows some tryouts, a win, and a defeat, but your footage focuses mainly on the teenaged athletes.”

  “I know, I know,” Sasha spoke around the food in her mouth. “I felt so guilty the whole time I was working on it. I made sure to keep the content as far away from Fox as possible while constructing it.”

  “My guess is, he’ll be over it once the game today is done,” Echo shrugged. “Fox is sensitive about his playing, so you struck a nerve, but he’s never been one to hold a grudge like that. And he’s never been able to stay mad at you. Not even that time you broke his favorite stick.”

  Sasha smiled reflexively at the memory. Fox had been teaching her to play hockey, so he’d have someone who could take shots on him and help him practice. She’d requested a rest from the endless skating that came with having to shoot the puck at him repeatedly and asked that they swap positions. Relenting, he’d handed over his custom goalie stick for her to use before taking her stick and skating off to retrieve the puck. About fifteen minutes later, he’d tried a fancy spinning move to get the puck in, but their skates had gotten tangled and he’d fallen on top of her with his stick breaking her fall.

  “I hope we can get back to where we were in our friendship,” Sasha agreed. “But I don’t know that I can handle trying to be…more than that. I mean, I told him I loved him. And he hung up on me. Now it’ll be this thing between us. I’m that girl.”

  Echo refrained from commenting, filling her mouth with a piece of toast. Sasha finished her Corn Flakes in silence before glancing at the clock.

  “I should head home and change,” she said. “Fox should’ve headed out for his pregame practice by now.”

  “Are you interested in going to the game?” Echo asked. “My parents are going with Dax and Asha, and us. They got some private box through the team. I’m sure they could get you in, too.”

  “I don’t think he’d want me there. I’ll watch at the station. The sports guys will have it on so they can write something up for tonight and note the video clips they have to request from the league.”

  “Going to the game in person could get you out of that work thing,” Echo pointed out.

  “No, they’d just postpone it. I think I’ve done enough postponing things because they’d be uncomfortable,” Sasha muttered.

  “Well, if you want to crash here again tonight, just shoot me a text or give me a call. And I’ll leave a ticket, just in case you change your mind.”

  “Thanks, Echo.” Sasha nodded appreciatively before turning her attention to Cole. “It was nice to meet you.” She headed for the living room and gathered her things before trudging to her car and driving over to her empty apartment. She had to get ready for work at the station and prepare herself to watch and pray that her conversation with Fox didn’t send him into a tailspin on the ice.

  Seventeen

  Sasha’s words kept playing over and over in Fox’s mind. She loved him. What was he supposed to do with that? He kept himself locked in his room, considering heading out for the night and maybe avoiding coming home again. He didn’t want to have to worry about seeing her in the apartment and confronting her the minute she walked through the door. Confronting her with what, he wasn’t sure. He couldn’t think of anything to say that he hadn’t already said—except that he forgave her, but he wasn’t ready for that yet. If she’d told him she loved him before…

  He flopped back on his bed to stare at the ceiling. He couldn’t deal with it right now. With what might have been between him and Sasha. That was the whole reason he hadn’t brought up a hypothetical relationship to see if she’d be receptive. He had wanted it, but knew she didn’t. It was what she’d said when she broke up with Ryan.

  And now there was just too much that he needed to focus on for himself. He was starting in net for his first home game in a little less than fifteen hours. He should be preparing for that.

  He pulled over his laptop and started going through video of the players from Philadelphia, the ones who would be taking their shots on him during the upcoming game. Sitting on his bed, he mimed the moves he would make to block various shots. He analyzed the players for tics that would show which direction they might come at him and where they’d try to sneak the puck through. He looked for passing patterns among the players on various lines. And in the back of his mind, he kept one ear trained on the apartment door and the first hint of it opening.

  When he finally couldn’t focus on the screen anymore and shut the laptop down, he ventured from his room to see if he’d missed her, but she was nowhere in the apartment. She had to be avoiding him, and he was too tired to think about whether that supported or undermined her declaration of her feelings for him. He locked everything up, turned the lights out, and went to bed.

  She might have been avoiding him in the waking world, but he found her in his dreams. He was back on the floor of the shower with her sitting there beside him. Only this time, they were both naked. The failure weighed heavy on him as she brought his head down to res
t against her shoulder, stroking his wet hair back as the water sluiced over them both.

  He couldn’t understand exactly what she was saying, but it was gentle and soothing. She dipped her head to press a kiss to his brow, then his closed eyes, and finally his mouth.

  The spike of heat was instant, and he reached up to cup the back of her head, holding her lips and her tongue hostage to his own. Her hand dropped to his dick and stroked him gently before she broke away from him and straddled him. His cock slid easily inside her, and she rode him hard, her hands pressing down on his chest, and the water spraying him in the face.

  He couldn’t get the water out of his face. Couldn’t see her as she rose and fell above him. He sought the eye contact they usually had when they made love, but the water prevented that. He tried wiping his face to clear his mouth and nose as he started to choke on the water. But he could only manage long enough to cough and have it all fill again. He grabbed a tighter hold of her waist and pulled himself upright, sputtering as he rolled her onto her back so the water would strike his shoulderblades and he could leverage himself to thrust inside her and push them both to the brink of release. As he rose above her, however, she cried out with pleasure and dissolved beneath him.

  He woke with a start and groaned at the fleeting sensations that had been so vivid in his dream. But he felt drained and used. He was too tired and not in the mood to analyze his dreams that deeply. He settled for being relieved that she hadn’t come home, that he didn’t have to face her yet, and he dreaded when both would be necessary.

  After the disturbing dream he’d had, Fox opted out of showering at the apartment and headed to the rink early to get in a bit of extra practice before the game. His brain wouldn’t let it go, though. He found himself checking his phone to see if he had any messages or missed calls from her, even as he told himself he wasn’t ready and didn’t want to hear from her. Stop being a pussy and focus.

  Coming off the ice to head down to the locker room for the pregame coaching session and associated rituals, his teammates and coaches were enthusiastic about his fast-approaching start.

  “Your family here for the game?” Henri asked in a hoarse voice as he popped a cough drop into his mouth and noisily cleared his throat and nose.

  “Uh…yeah, I think so,” Fox said with a shrug. He turned to his phone and realized that he had received several texts from Dax stating that he and their parents had been able to pick up the tickets that had been left for them with the front office without incident. Asha, Dax’s girlfriend, had apparently come as well, and was busy chatting with some old college friends of hers in the media booth. All the messages showed as having been read by Fox, but he honestly couldn’t remember reading a single one of them. “Yup, sounds like they’re settled in their box. What about you? Did you get any of your family over for your first home game?”

  Henri nodded but it dislodged something in his sinuses, and he turned to sneeze into a towel hanging in his locker. Fox took three steps away while Henri’s back was turned. If he got sick, too, the team would be completely screwed in goal.

  “Well, uh, any advice?” Fox asked as they got the call to line up for their introduction and official warmup skate in front of the fans before puck drop.

  Henri scrunched his face in thought before shrugging and responding, “Stop the puck.”

  “Thanks,” Fox gave a nervous laugh as he made his way to the end of the line. “That’s, uh, helpful.”

  That was the last clear thing Fox could make out as the noise of the crowd overwhelmed him, and he moved to the bench for the game’s opening ceremonies. Even the singing of the national anthem was fuzzy in his ears. He headed for the crease when the rest of his starting teammates climbed over the boards. After a few moments of roughing up the ice in the crease, he had it just the way he liked it and settled in, determined to focus on the game.

  And he did. Fox saw every move that happened in front of him and felt his body reacting. He was completely aware of where the puck was at every moment, ignoring the calls between the players on the ice and the pounding noise of the fans against the Plexiglas barrier behind him.

  But at the same time, he wasn’t actively thinking about the game, only reacting to it. Consciously, he was struggling to keep thoughts of Sasha and the story she’d done at bay. Snippets of her voiceover came back to him when the puck was down at the other end of the rink. We see and hear so much in the media about those who have defied the odds and made it to the big leagues… But what about those who have the odds deliberately stacked in their favor? There are plenty of them, as well. All of those players working undeniably hard to earn and keep their prominent positions. And then there are those whose names we never learn. Those whose talents and efforts come to naught.

  He was never mentioned by name in her piece, undeniably by Sasha’s design. But what her motivations were for keeping him out of it…

  “Great period, man.” One of the defensemen slapped Fox’s padded shoulder. Fox realized he hadn’t even heard the buzzer. He followed Jones off the ice. Had it really been a full twenty minutes of play? He hadn’t let a single shot in. He knew that much, but he wasn’t sure how many shots had come at him to begin with. The puck had spent a while down the other end of the ice, of that, he was certain. There were two or three specific saves he remembered, and one sore spot on his thigh where a puck had hit him a bit higher than his goalie pads extended. Not so hard a hit as to cause serious damage, just an annoying twinge that would bruise later.

  Coach Tremblay was pleased, but didn’t make a big deal of how he’d done in the first period. They were up one to nothing, and he wanted to widen that gap in the next twenty minutes so he focused most of his attention on the forwards, drawing a few approaching formations for them on his dry-erase clipboard. The intermission was over all too quickly, and they were headed back out to the ice. Coach Tremblay gave him a knock on his helmet and a low, “Keep it up, Coulter.”

  The second period passed in much the same manner as the first. Fox’s thoughts continued to slip toward Sasha. Was she watching the game? She’d been so excited over the way he’d played in his first game with the team, but would she even talk to him after this one? Would she kick him out of the apartment?

  If her story got picked up when she didn’t even consider it finished, that had to mean the station would offer her a job when her internship was up and she had graduated. She wouldn’t need his help to pay the rent after that. Not to mention her modeling job for Echo—the campaign, or whatever it was called—hadn’t officially launched, but Echo was excited about it. Sasha would be too important for him, even if he was a Coulter.

  The other team’s offense was definitely down his end of the ice more during the second period. They weren’t spending as much time passing between themselves to set up the perfect shot. No, they were just trying to pummel him, hoping he’d let something slip through. There was a looseness, strength, and speed Fox was able to channel in a way he hadn’t managed to coordinate effectively in the past. It was as though he almost wasn’t there; as though he were watching idly from the sidelines as someone else played goalie. He knew what he had to do for his team, but it didn’t intimidate him the way he so often let it in the past. Besides, nothing would be as humiliating as what he’d felt watching Sasha’s story about ‘those who have every advantage, including talent, but who cannot overcome themselves’ as she’d put it, and knowing that she’d been thinking specifically of him when she wrote those words.

  He wished he didn’t care what she thought of him, but the memory of the raw desire in her eyes told him otherwise. Those green orbs mesmerized him as they changed from hazel to something almost emerald, depending on the light. He wanted her to look at him like that again. But he didn’t know if maybe he’d imagined all of that. Maybe he’d only ever seen what he wanted to see as far as Sasha was concerned.

  Fox threw himself to the ice in an uncomfortable split, his glove hand reaching desperately behind his leg to c
over the puck just as it reached the blue line. Suddenly, he was bowled over by one of his teammates and one of the other team’s forwards as they collided and landed on top of him and his stick arm.

  He heard something snap and a lot of whistles blowing as the refs came over to untangle the mess of players and sort out the necessary penalties. Fox heard one of the other team’s players shouting about how the puck had crossed the line and Fox had drawn it back over before it registered and the buzzer could sound the goal. But when the ref looked to Fox’s gloved hand, Fox raised it and the puck was sitting on the right side of the line. No goal. When the other team’s coach pushed for a review, Fox used the intervening minutes to stretch himself out and skate to the bench for a replacement stick. He was lucky it was his stick and not his arm that had snapped when the two tangled players came down on him.

  The challenge went in the Brawlers’ favor. No goal.

  The second period came to an end a few minutes later, with the Brawlers up three to nothing.

  “You sure this is your first game on home ice?” One of the guys joked with Fox as they made their way down the tunnel for the second intermission.

  “Local network wants to do an interview with you during the break,” Martin whispered with an elbow nudge. But before Fox could even consider panicking, Martin laughed. “Don’t worry. The coaches don’t want you getting distracted in the middle of the game like that. They’ll save you for the post-game press conference. It’ll be one the assistant coaches this time. Tremblay wants us pushing our advantage in the third. Here’s hoping that lost challenge keeps them down instead of riling them up again.”

  Fox’s instructions for the third period consisted of, “keep doing what you’ve been doing.” And he did, closing the game with a shutout, the Brawlers winning five to nothing. At the end of the game, the arena’s announcers called him out to take a special bow as they congratulated him on finishing his second NHL start, his first at-home start, and his first shutout game. The fans screamed and applauded as his stats for the game were read aloud, including thirty-six blocked shots on goal.