by Cass Kincaid
Thirty seconds left on the clock. The opposing team has just been given a penalty for high-sticking. Shit’s about to hit the fan. The goal I just scored tied the game. The tension in the arena is palpable.
People are screaming as there’s a breakaway. Johnny, who plays defense, has the puck. In a flash, a red-uniformed player from the opposing team cuts him off. A second later, he’s smashed into the boards and the puck is lost in the shuffle.
“Get in there!” our coach bellows across the ice.
I lurch forward, my large hands gripping the edge of the boards so damn tight that I know my knuckles must be white inside my gloves. “C’mon!” I mutter under my breath.
Jacob gets past the other team’s defense and skates hard, skating around the skirmish and managing to scoop the puck from within it. Every glide he takes pushes him closer to the net.
He’s going for it.
The goalie is watching him, readying himself, positioning his stick, bending as he awaits him.
Jacob ducks around one of the other team’s players, members of our own team pushing them out of the way, giving him every chance to make the shot. He pulls his stick back, eyes locked, and fires the puck toward the net.
Other than the rush of my pounding blood in my ears, I can hear nothing, see nothing. Everything stops except for the trajectory of that puck.
The goalie’s glove comes up, and the puck sails just above it, landing against the threaded net, followed by the loud buzzer of the clock running out.
The entire arena erupts into cheers, every person in that room hitting their feet and pounding incessantly on the boards in excitement.
As Jacob is bombarded by the other players on the ice in victory, I steal a glance across the ice to the two people standing in the front row of benches. Ellis is jumping up and down, his eyes wide and his hands in the air, and Megan is still clapping, wearing the biggest grin I’ve ever seen on her pretty face. She reaches down and high-fives my son.
Our son.
This is what life is supposed to be about. Not about hiding from the things that we fear in hopes that we won’t make mistakes, but about making mistakes and learning from them in hopes of living the fullest life we can in the amount of time we’ve got.
This is what really living feels like, and I love it, thanks to Megan and Ellis.
***
“Daddy, you did it!”
Ellis’s shouts are heard by every person in the front lobby as I come around the corner from the locker rooms. I chuckle, just as many others do, when I see him standing up on the chair by the concession stand, struggling to see over the people bustling in and out of the lobby.
“Technically, it was Jacob who did it,” I say with a grin, dropping my hockey bag onto the floor. “But you’re right, buddy, we won! Told you that you were my good luck charm.” The little boy jumps off the chair and races full-tilt at me. I scoop him up, hugging him tightly to me.
“We won! We won!” he chants repeatedly. “You’re my hero!”
I’m not sure there’s anything else my son could say that would make my throat constrict the way it is.
“You’re my hero, too.” Megan pushes the chair back under the table it came from and steps forward, stretching up onto her tiptoes to kiss me. “Congratulations, Number Forty-One.”
“It was a pretty good game, huh?” I say, pulling my hockey bag up onto my other shoulder and leading her out to the pickup truck with Ellis still muttering “Yes!” and “What a game!” to himself as we go.
“It was quite a dramatic win,” Meg says excitedly. “Quite a goal you got, too.”
I throw the bag into the truck bed, then pull the back door open to deposit Ellis into his seat, buckling him in securely before I close his door and climb into the driver’s seat. “I’m not going to lie, I think I got lucky on that one.”
“Hardly.” Megan slides into the passenger seat, buckling her seatbelt. “You played an amazing game, baby. I’m proud of you.”
I lean over and kiss her again, my chest swelling with pride at being able to call her my own. “Either way, I think we need to celebrate. Let’s get a bottle of that merlot stuff you like so much and go home. I’ve got a few ideas brewing.”
“I’ll bet you do,” she chuckles, her cheeks showing a hint of crimson at the suggestion. She reaches out and touches my hand, which stops me from turning the key in the ignition. “Celebrating sounds good, Craig, but no wine, okay?”
“Fine, we can—” The glint in her eyes makes me shut my mouth on the words. Silence spreads throughout the truck. Even Ellis is quiet, which hardly ever happens unless he’s sleeping. “Meg...”
Her mouth curves up at the corners. She merely nods, squeezing my hand in hers.
“Are you telling me...I mean, are you saying...” I can’t get the thought to become words on my tongue.
“That you’re going to be a daddy again?” She whispers it low, but not like it’s a secret. Like the phrase is laced with so much emotion she can barely speak of it. “Yeah, baby, that’s what I’m telling you.”
My eyes widen, my gaze dropping from her perfect mouth that formed the words to her lower abdomen, covered by her fleece jacket...where my son or daughter is growing inside her. “Meg...” I choke out. Then, I dive towards her, kissing her hard. “Oh God, Meg, just when I didn’t think you could make me any happier.”
“Daddy’s kissing Mommy...ew!”
Ellis’s outburst makes us both laugh, but it doesn’t stop me from kissing my wife once more, brushing my thumb along her cheek. “Daddy’s going to do a lot more than kiss Mommy,” I whisper to Megan. “He’s going to love her forever. Her and his little family.”
“Our little family,” she corrects me in a raspy voice.
“Ours,” I repeat. “Forever.”
“Forever.”
Defensive Daddy: A Bad Boy Hockey Romance
Chapter One
Samantha
My life was right on track. Dream job, loving fiancé, beautiful son—I had it all.
The only problem was that my promotion came at a time when that fiancé was too busy loving someone else, and that son of mine was wailing like a banshee wondering why in the hell we were standing outside the door of an apartment he didn’t recognize as home.
Well, that makes two of us, buddy. Because I wasn’t sure how we’d come to be here, either, renting this apartment, despising everyone I came across, and wishing I could figure out where I went wrong.
Maybe I never would. Maybe I was destined to question myself from here on out, knowing full well that, even though I didn’t know what it was, there was something I hadn’t done right, and that something had pushed away my husband-to-be, my high school sweetheart who’d held my heart for more than a decade. And whatever it was, it’d pushed him right into the arms of another woman.
“Come on, buddy. It’s okay, let’s get inside so I can get the rest of our boxes.”
Levi looked up at me with red-rimmed eyes, confusion blanketing his face. It killed me that this would become the new normal for him, for us. Wiggling the key in the knob and giving a shove to the door, it finally opened. In the entryway we stood, both scanning the new place. Empty, white walls, beige carpet. There was nothing truly homey about it, but we would make do.
“Where’s Daddy?” Levi’s voice shook as he stepped in before me, walking around the empty living area with a sense of apprehensive wonder. A smile finally crossed his face, momentarily distracted by the newness of it all. If only I could have that childlike sense of wonder again.
“He’s working, sweetie. He’ll come later to pick you up, though.” I walked down the narrow hallway to Levi’s room and set the box down, sliding my key across the tape to open it up. “Here you go!” I hollered, peeking out from his door. “You play in here while Mommy gets the rest of our stuff, okay?”
“Okay!” He toddled down the hallway toward me in his big fluffy coat. Laughter escaped me at the sight. Through all the darkness and sad
ness I’ve endured lately, he’s my light and happiness. Tears pooled in my eyes as my emotions got the best of me.
I quickly left his room so he wouldn’t see me cry, leaning my back against the wall as though it might help me hold myself together somehow, if only for a moment. The tears crept their way down my cheeks yet again, but I wiped them away and pulled my shit together. I had to. Not just for Levi, but for myself as well.
Making my way down the lengthy staircase to my car, I opened the trunk and instantly changed my mind. There was no way I’d be able to get the heavier boxes up all those stairs on my own. I grabbed a couple I knew I could handle and slammed the trunk closed. Ethan would have to deal with them for me when he came to pick up his son. It was his fault we were here, anyway.
I peeked into Levi’s room. He was playing with his favorite toy airplane that his dad had got him during one of his business trips.
The thought of Ethan being with another woman during those trips caused bile to rise in my throat. He swore to me those trips were necessary for him to work his way up in the company, and I’d foolishly believed him.
There you go again, I thought to myself. Thinking about him, instead of focusing on what matters. Levi. Yourself. And whatever kind of new life this is that we’re building.
It wasn’t easy to let go of what Ethan had done to me—to our family—and I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to. Right now, I knew I wasn’t capable of it. There was no room for forgiveness in my heart; it was too full of resentment.
And humiliation.
I’d heard about these things happening—men getting bored with their comfortable, routine family lives and finding someone more interesting on the side. Hell, over a year ago, I’d even been consciously aware enough of the change in our relationship to ask him about it. There’d been a distance I’d never noticed before, and Ethan had started staying later at the office, going on more business trips, focusing more on his work than the family waiting for him at home.
Paranoid. That’s what he’d called me. It’d irked me then, and it irked me even more now. He’d assured me there was no reason for me to worry about us, that we were fine. But, I guess that was easy to say when he had his blonde bombshell of a co-worker keeping him company during all those late-night hours at his office.
The worst part? Everything probably would have continued on just as it was if he hadn’t had the balls to confess to the affair in the same measured voice one would use to admit they’d accidentally killed a fucking houseplant. I would have remained on the same blind path, ignoring the signs and pretending everything would be fine, and he’d have continued to fuck Destiny, or Delilah, or whatever the hell her name was.
But Ethan confessed his year-long sin to me, and then chose that sin over Levi and me.
Which led me here. In this very nice, overly modern, two-bedroom apartment with a confused toddler and a shattered heart. The scent of new paint and cleaning chemicals was strong, and despite the chilly weather outside, I opened one of the kitchen windows a crack to air out the room.
I pried open the cardboard box I’d slid onto the counter and sighed. There wasn’t even enough household items in it to make a meal. To hell with it, I’ll go grab one more box. I’d packed them myself, so I knew the one I wanted.
“I’ll be right back, Levi! Just going back out to the car for a quick second.” From the end of the hallway, I saw he hadn’t even looked up at the sound of my voice, too enthralled with his toy to pay me any attention. Good, at least one of us was content.
I left the apartment again, locking the door behind me even though I’d only be a minute. On the way toward the flight of eight stairs, I saw the silver-tone nameplate on the door of the apartment closest to mine.
C. Henley.
Inwardly, I cringed. I really hoped not to have some crotchety old neighbor to deal with, but I wasn’t really in the position to negotiate. I’d needed an apartment, and this one was available on short notice in a decent part of the city, with enough room for Levi to be comfortable and have the space he needed to be a kid.
I made it out to my car and back into the building in record time. Making my way up the stairs with the box full of kitchen supplies, I tripped, unfamiliar with the staircase, and fell flat on my stomach. Everything from the box spilled out and scattered everywhere.
“Christ, are you okay?”
I hadn’t even seen him until he spoke, too engrossed in my own embarrassment and utter disbelief at the moment. Then, when I raised my gaze and saw the tall, chestnut-haired man staring at me with piercing blue eyes full of concern, I was more embarrassed than I’d ever been in my life.
Which sparked anger within me, justified or not.
“I’m fine.” I looked away, unable to meet his eyes again as I scrambled to pick up the kitchen items from the stairs and floor.
He ducked down onto one knee, obviously not concerned about the dirt or mud on the floor, and helped put things back into the box. “That was a nasty fall though—”
“I said I’m fine.” I pushed his hand away, heat flaming in my cheeks.
I didn’t see the expression he wore, but I heard the shift in his voice. “I was just—”
“You were just interjecting yourself in something that doesn’t concern you. I said I’m fine,” I snapped, throwing the last of the items into the box. “But thanks.”
I rose to my feet, catching only a fleeting glimpse of his face. Very attractive, very confused, and...
Hurt.
Damn it, I thought to myself. The rational part of me knew he’d only been trying to help, but the humiliated part was bigger and much louder at the moment. It occurred to me to wonder if that was the new me—angry, harsh, and standoffish. Or, maybe that’s just what was left of the old me. The me I’d been with Ethan.
Either way, that version of me was dead, leaving only the smoldering fury inside me. And judging by the way I’d just lashed out at an innocent bystander, that smoldering fire was bound to ignite eventually, and when it did...well, I wasn’t sure I wanted to find out.
Chapter Two
Cooper
Opening the door to my apartment, I walked in and tossed my keys into the bowl on the table near the entryway. I unlaced my boots, kicking them off into the pile with my other boots—just one more thing in my life that needed reorganized. I thought back on the incident that had just happened in the hallway. All I’d tried to do was help the woman out, and she’d been a raging bitch about it.
But, she’d been a beautiful raging bitch about it.
I’d probably have spat out something just as vicious to match her anger, but I’d been a bit too stunned by her pretty little blue eyes to think of something. Her auburn hair only made them more vivid.
I couldn’t lie, the feistiness in her turned me on, and because of it, I was determined to get to know her. I could at least give it another chance, and maybe not catch her completely off guard next time. We were neighbours, after all.
Shuffling into the kitchen, I pulled out the bag of coffee and scooped some into a filter while I peered out the kitchen window. Snow was falling, and it reminded me of the fact I’d be out of commission for the next couple months.
For the next hockey season, that is. I’d like to think I’d gotten used to the idea, but the fact that I’d managed to tear my rotator cuff, preventing me from playing defense for my team this season only heightened my sense of cabin fever. I could play, but I risked further injury and possibly even surgery.
I couldn’t do that to Tommy. My son was young, only six months old, but he needed me just as much I needed him. And he needed me healthy, paying for all the required things as well as the cool shit available for kids nowadays, and able to be to the best daddy I could be when he’s with me.
I would still need to find something to occupy my time and get me through the winter, though. Not just for money, but for my sanity as well.
But what the hell would I do? I was a hockey player, a defenseman, and I’d spen
t my entire life practicing and preparing to be one. The only thing I’d ever been good at was winning hockey games. Well, until Tommy came into this world and showed me I was a pretty good dad, too.
The aroma of coffee filled the air. I grabbed my favorite Number One Daddy mug from the cabinet and paused at the sight of the matching Number One Mommy one tucked in the back.
How the hell had I not gotten rid of this, or at least given it to Zoey? And, how was it that something so simple and meaningless could cause so much pain to fill my chest? The hurt I’d been hiding and shoving away for months now resurfaced, all thanks to a stupid goddamn mug.
Two years of a serious relationship were flushed down the drain as soon as Zoey denied my proposal and broke things off with me immediately afterward. She’d just given birth to Tommy a few weeks prior, and I’d been so in love with her it’d never occurred to me she wouldn’t want to continue being parents together. As a family.
As if the rejection wasn’t bad enough—and that’s not an easy thing for a man to get over—and though it still hurt like hell, I had to admit that part of me was thankful she did it. Maybe she wasn’t the one for me, even though I’d thought she was. Sometimes, I still thought she was. But it took being away from her to realize that I had doubts. Just a sliver of doubt, but doubt, nonetheless.
I took a sip of my coffee and savored the bitter flavor, attempting to shake the thoughts of my failed relationship away. I couldn’t. I was alone in this place with no one to distract me. Tommy was thankfully still asleep in his crib despite the crash I’d heard in the hallway earlier, but I looked forward to the moment he awoke again to keep me company.
My life should have been vastly different at twenty-nine years old. I should have been married and been providing more for my family than this little apartment, living in our own home.
Christ, pull yourself together. I needed to get out, get some fresh air. I needed to clear my head. Tommy and I would bundle up and head out for a walk when he woke up.