Hot on Ice: A Hockey Romance Anthology

by Avery Flynn

  He laughed and kissed her again. “Yes, Chief.”

  “Mmm, I could get used to that.”

  “I’ll see that you do.”

  Epilogue

  One Year Later

  “All ready to go?” Bear tossed the last bag in the back of the SUV before hurrying to help his wife down the last few steps of the duplex. She waved him off with a tolerant smile but let him hover as she walked to the passenger side.

  “I’m pregnant, not crippled. And your daughter in here is a fifth degree black belt. She’s not exactly a delicate flower, either.”

  “Kicking again?”

  “Giving new meaning to Karate Kid.”

  “That’s m’girl.”

  Aria rewarded him with an eye roll, but the amusement was clear.

  Bear waited until she was buckled in before closing her door and taking his place in the driver’s seat. “She’ll be an enforcer, like her ta-ta’t.”

  “You mean she’ll use her words like her gijú.”

  “Or she’ll do both and conquer the world.”

  “I like that compromise.” She smiled down at her stomach, and the beautiful picture it created stole his breath.

  He felt a kick too, but his came from guilt. “Are you sure about this? Really?”

  She glanced up at him, and her expression smoothed into sweet assurance with a teasing edge. “You changed teams for me. You moved fifteen hundred miles north to be closer to me. The least I can do is compromise with a second home in Boston. We’ll only be a day-trip away. We’ll be here in the summers, and when you’re on long road trips, baby girl and I will make the drive. In the mean time, I get to be Bear Mountain’s media liaison, and the reserve is in good hands with Ollie. I just hope he doesn’t get too used to the title of Chief. I plan to take it back someday when you retire.”

  “You’re amazing.”

  “Thank you for noticing.”

  He leaned across the armrest, cupped her cheek in his palm and kissed her long and slow. Home. It wasn’t a place after all.

  About the Author

  Katie is the author of the Las Vegas Sinners hockey romance series and has been writing in the genre for the last four years. She lives in Northeast Ohio, close to her beloved Pittsburgh Penguins, with her hubby and her grumpy cat, Motley.

  Also by Katie Kenyhercz

  On the Fly

  Full Strength

  Winning Streak

  Home Ice

  Fair Trade

  Body Check

  by

  Desiree Holt

  To my wonderful friend and beta reader, Margie Hager, who is the cornerstone of my career and the best friend I could ever have

  I could never do this without you

  1

  Matt Vorchak finished cleaning out the rest of the stuff from his locker and zipped up the duffel he’d brought with him. Then he sat on the bench for a long minute just looking around. A combination of exhilaration, sadness, and rage bubbled inside him. The excitement of winning the Cup didn’t completely soften the fact this was probably the last time he’d be doing this, and it was a bitter pill to swallow. He’d given his life to the game, in more ways than one and been struck with a single purpose in life. But Fate had apparently decided he’d had too much fun and given him the finger big time.

  “You about ready to leave?”

  Matt looked up at the sound of Coach Mason Courage’s voice and saw him standing just inside the door.

  He nodded and pushed himself to his feet, doing his best to ignore the damn twinge in his knee. It was a constant reminder of how his future had fallen apart.

  “I’ve got everything. Locker’s empty for the next person.”

  If his voice was bitter, well, he was allowed a certain amount of that. It just wasn’t fucking fair what had happened. He had given everything to this game, including eight years of his life after college, and now he was left with nothing. Instead of sitting here quietly chatting with Coach, he wanted to rage and scream and throw anything he could get his hands on. He’d worked so hard for his dream, given up so much for it, put up with so much shit, and now it was all being taken away from him.

  Coach moved farther into the locker room and stood close to Matt, hands in his pockets in his usual stance.

  “I know it’s a tough break, Matt, but you paid your dues in the farm system and contributed a lot to the winning of the Cup. No one can take that away from you.”

  “Yeah. Right.”

  The media called him one of the scrappiest defensemen in the season that just ended. Many attributed the New Orleans Rage’s final game victory to win the Cup to Matt’s play. Big deal! He swallowed back the rest of the words bubbling up in his throat. He wanted to leave here on good terms despite the situation.

  “So, what are your plans now?”

  Right. Now that he could no longer be a member of the team, the goal he’d given his whole life to achieve.

  He shrugged. “I think I’ll take some time off to assess. My agent has some things for me to look at, and I promised I’d meet with him. But, right now, I’m not sure what direction I’ll be going in.”

  Yeah, whatever. That about summed up his life right now.

  “Well, if you need me for anything, I’m here,” Coach said. “Don’t hesitate to call.”

  “Thanks.” Matt shook the man’s hand. “For everything, I mean.”

  “Keep in touch.”

  Then Matt was alone in the locker room, taking one last look around. So this was it, the end of a dream, a dream he had sacrificed everything for. If not for one bad body check, he’d be looking forward to the next season and defending the Cup with the rest of the team.

  Spilt milk and all that, he kept reminding himself. Hoisting the strap to his duffel, he headed out of the locker room and down the hallway to the parking lot. For a brief moment, he was tempted to take a last look at the arena, but as he took a step, a sharp pain in his knee reminded him why that would be a bad idea. He might never attend another hockey game for the rest of his life. He didn’t think he could stand watching others play where he should have been.

  Limping slightly, he exited the building and headed for his truck. He cranked the engine but sat there, staring straight ahead. The surgeon’s words played again in his mind, burned indelibly into his brain.

  “We had to replace the knee, Matt. There was nothing to salvage. The bad news is you won’t be able to play again. You know that. You’ll never pass the physical. The good news is you should end up with little to no limp, especially if you rehab properly. And there’s still a whole world out there for you to explore.”

  Whoop-de-doo. Big fucking shit.

  So now what? Most of his teammates had scattered to be with their families and friends. He realized with a shock that, outside of the team, he had no relationships. Certainly not with any of the women he spent time with. Someone once told him his people skills needed a lot of work. At the time, he’d wondered what they meant. But as he thought about everything, including the way he’d treated his family after he got hurt, he saw a picture of himself he didn’t much like.

  He had his reasons, which now seemed completely selfish as well as arrogant. At ten-years old, visiting his cousin, he saw the movie Miracle on Ice on television. The awe-inspiring story of the USA Olympic Hockey team who beat the Russians against all odds and took home the gold set off a craving in him that blocked out everything else in his life and made him focus on a single purpose. He searched all the program guides and every time it was scheduled to be shown again, he made sure he watched it. The power that rolled off the players, the slashing of sticks and clash of blades on the ice, the raw energy set up a craving in him to be part of that world.

  He read everything about the sport he could lay his hands on, watched it on television, researched it on the Internet. After that, he had only one focus in life—skating for a professional team and winning the Cup. It became his sole focus, over and above anything else in his life. He wan
ted to be a defenseman like Bill Baker who scored the USA tying goal against Sweden in the first game of the Olympic tournament. He studied what it took—speed and strength. He began to exercise on his own, in the yard and in his room. He started running to build up muscle strength in his legs and endurance.

  He pestered his parents to enroll him in the San Antonio Youth Hockey League. He worked his ass off learning everything he could, soaking up all he could from the coaches. He knew that scouts and coaches were always looking for players who could skate and read what was happening on the ice. Players who were willing to do whatever it took to help the team win and add to team chemistry. He became one of the top players in youth hockey.

  When it came time for college, he applied only to northern schools that had strong ice hockey programs and, with the help of his coaches, managed to score a scholarship to the University of Michigan. He worked his ass off, spending every hour in the workout room to build up his muscles and his strength.

  His focus was so intent on playing, his obsession and single-minded determination so strong, he had no room in his life for anything else. Just The Game, always capitalized like that in his mind. Again, as he thought about it now, unbelievable arrogance.

  When he was drafted, he was sure he was on his way to a championship team and the Cup. But, unfortunately, life doesn’t always go the way you want it to. Somehow, after a quick start, he fell just short of first team status. He spent so many years in the minors, he wondered if he’d ever get to realize his dream. Would he, in the end, be left with nothing? For a while there, the prospect actually gave him a scare, but he refused to give up.

  Off-season was always spent on conditioning and training. Twice, teams he was with called him up, only to send him down again. When he was traded to the Cajun Rage and given a starting job, he was sure he’d died and gone to heaven. All the years of discipline and sacrifice were worth it. They’d finally paid off.

  Other teammates became engaged, got married, had children. Of course, he dated like everyone else. A lot, actually, because casual was all he did. But, now, he couldn’t even remember their names. There was no way anyone was going to interrupt his focus on making it big, on fighting his way out of the farm team system, on making a team that had a chance of winning the Cup. Later, he’d have plenty of time to think about a real relationship. Well, it was later, and here he was, out of hockey and about as alone as anyone could be. With no one to blame but himself.

  He swallowed a sigh and rubbed his forehead, pushing back the beginnings of a headache. He couldn’t sit here in the parking lot forever. His agent had asked to meet with him. Some of his sponsors were interested in continuing the relationship if they could connect it to something worthwhile. Requests for interviews were still coming in, and they needed to assess them. But he couldn’t muster up any interest in talking about that stuff now. Not when his life was in such turmoil.

  He guessed he’d go home to his apartment. He had a townhouse in San Antonio, but when tThe Rage signed him, he’d found an apartment in the French Quarter, thinking it would be so cool to live in that area. Most times it was, although some nights the raucous revelry just got to him. Especially now, when he had nothing to celebrate.

  He really didn’t want to hang around the Crescent City, not when he’d be by himself. And, strangely, none of the local women he’d dated appealed to him. His teammates had all come to see him in the hospital, but then it was time for them to split back to their own lives. The kind of life he’d turned his back on in his search for fame and glory. If not for his bum knee, he’d kick his own ass.

  Going out alone wasn’t an option, either. Every bar was still celebrating the Cup victory. Banners flew from balconies and overhangs and across buildings. It was enough to make him go blind.

  Go home.

  He could almost hear the voice whispering in his ear, and he was sure it didn’t mean here in the Quarter.

  He needed to mend some fences with his family. Looking back, he could see how he’d neglected them over the years. Even when they came to some of his games, he took little time to spend with them. The minute one game ended, he fixated on the next. They had all insisted on flying to New Orleans that first week when he had his surgery, including his sister, Brenna. But it was hard to be pleasant when his entire world had shattered. He’d given his whole life to hockey, and the way he saw it, the game had turned on him. All he could see was the ruins of his future and a man who had lost his purpose in life. He’d sacrificed everything to become a success, and what was he left with?

  He was beginning to consider the Cup a small consolation.

  Brenna had been so irritated with him at the hospital she just threw her hands up at his self-pitying attitude. “You’re nothing but a small, petulant child,” she snapped. “You’d better pull up your big boy pants so you don’t keep tripping on them.”

  “What the hell do you know?” he’d raged.

  “I know I see a man who is so selfish and immature he shut out everyone and everything else. That he focused on a particular goal to the exclusion of everything and everyone else. That the longer it took to get there, the more of a pain in the ass he became. And now that he’s got that precious cup, Fate saw fit to send him a message in the form of a career-ending injury to tell him there are other things in life.”

  “You’re not sitting where I am,” he snapped.

  “And thank the lord for that. Other athletes have full, productive lives and still succeed in their careers. But you were so involved you shut out friends and family and walked away from the best woman in the world. Are you telling me there’s nothing else to you except that?”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “You’re hopeless,” she told him. “How did you turn out to be such a selfish person?”

  Selfish?

  “Just shut up, will you?”

  “With pleasure. We’re leaving so you can be alone with your best friend. Your ego.”

  She had stormed out of his room, taking his parents with her, and they’d fled back to San Antonio.

  He had plenty of time to feel sorry for himself while he healed in his apartment. He refused to ask anyone to drive him to rehab after he was released. His teammates were all busy with friends and family now the season was over. He was pretty sure they didn’t want to be saddled with hauling his ass around. Besides, he didn’t need them lecturing him about how to get on with his life. Instead, he became best friends with Uber. He liked the first driver enough that he scheduled him for pickup and delivery at the same time four days a week.

  None of it, of course, improved his disposition, especially when all the rehab still left him with a slight limp. If he went home to his place in San Antonio, at least he could avoid running into any Rage fans.

  But then what? Did he have anything waiting for him there?

  As he sat there, more alone than he’d ever been in his life, he heard the echo of Brenna’s words. Something she’d said poked at him like a sharp stick.

  “You walked away from the best woman in the world.”

  At the time, he hadn’t had room in his brain for anything except feeling sorry for himself. But now the image of Lizzie St. John popped into his mind. Lizzie, with her one dimple, her masses of black hair, and the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. Truth to tell, thoughts of her had been popping into his mind a lot since he got hurt. All these years, he’d done his best to suppress his memories of their last night together and his frustration that she couldn’t see what his goal was and what it took to reach it.

  He’d never stopped to appreciate how lucky he’d been to find her. From the time they began dating in high school, through all their college vacations, she’d been there with him. For him. She’d listened to him go on forever about hockey and his dream. She’d learned enough about the game to discuss it intelligently with him. They had it all—a great relationship, great sex. He’d just automatically assumed she’d understand when he told her everything was on hold until he
achieved his goal.

  “It won’t be forever,” he kept telling her. “I have to do this. Can’t you see?”

  “See what? A selfish little boy who doesn’t have room in his life for anything but this obsessive need to play hockey and win some trophy? And why is that, anyway? What’s so damn special about it that you’ll put your entire life on hold until you win it? That you think I’ll put my life on hold and wait until you get around to me.”

  He’d given her a helpless look. “You don’t understand.”

  “Other athletes manage to have personal lives,” she pointed out.

  She knew about Miracle on Ice. Knew how focused he’d been on his career. Why couldn’t she understand that any future they might have had was put on hold? When he had finally made a team that won the Cup, his obsession could take a backseat to everything else and they could plan a future together. He’d be ready to build a relationship. With her. Why couldn’t she see that?

  Now that he’d reached that point, he had to face what an arrogant ass he’d been. Putting his career above everything else in his life and not appreciating what he’d had.

  It never occurred to him she would move on. Not his Lizzie. Despite what she said, he had an arrogant certainty she’d just hang around waiting for him. His problem was he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind, and that bothered him. Disturbed his focus. Maybe if he saw her, it would satisfy him, he could tuck her back in the mental corner where she belonged for the moment, and he could get back to work. But every time he called, she told him she was busy. Then he was stunned when his sister told him she was seeing someone. He’d had to battle a big dose of jealousy.