Hot on Ice: A Hockey Romance Anthology

by Avery Flynn

  "I still love you," her voice was barely a whisper but she knew he'd heard her. She felt it.

  "I still love you too, Mariam," he confessed. "It's always been you. Just you."

  7

  Jonas

  It was impossible to know who made the first move. Jonas remembered their bodies coming together, their lips meeting and opening with only the slightest pressure, without an ounce of doubt or hesitation. His body tensed and vibrated with pent-up desire.

  They’d abandoned the kitchen and gone out into the garden. Mariam had grabbed a faded picnic blanket from a cupboard under the stairs before they went out into the still-bright evening. She’d led the way and he’d followed, transfixed by the slow sway of her hips as she stepped along the garden path. When she stopped at the lilac tree, he grinned. How many times had he climbed the branches of that tree to scramble through her bedroom window?

  Neither of them spoke as they spread out the blanket under the heavy boughs of lilac. Mariam leaned against the tree trunk and slowly began to work the buttons of her shirt. Jonas took a step closer to her, drunk on the blooming lilac, on her golden brown skin and her plump breasts now revealed, more beautiful than he’d even remembered. His mouth went dry at the sight of them. With a slight shrug of her shoulders her shirt slid down her arms and fell to the ground. Jonas began shedding his clothing too. She’d pushed down and kicked aside her shorts and was naked before him in their lilac-scented hideaway. She was curvier now, and he loved it. The roundness of her hips and ass, the perfect weight of her even more perfect breasts. How had he managed to survive so many years without her in his life?

  He was already thick and hard, aching to be inside her again, but he wanted to savor every inch of her. They were awkward at first, tumbling onto the blanket and laughing.

  "Are you okay?” she asked in a hushed tone. “You didn’t hurt your knee, did you…?"

  "I’m fine, " he said, even though his left knee said otherwise. Right now, the pain could wait. He would not be denied this chance to be with her again. The warm summer air cocooned them. He took her dark nipples in his mouth and sucked on them, tugging a little with his teeth until she moaned and writhed under him. Her nails sank into his shoulders, her thighs clamped his waist. And whatever inhibitions held them back before melted away.

  They were reckless. Anyone could have opened her garden gate and discovered them there, even with the boughs of the lilac tree shading them, but neither of them cared. They opened their bodies to one another, tasted one another and rediscovered their rhythm. When he was inside her, nothing else mattered. The world around them slipped away and there was only the two of them, and the longing, the want.

  He slid out of her long enough to remember they hadn’t put on a condom. A part of him didn’t care, didn’t think that she did either—but it was reckless to assume.

  She opened her eyes, and in between ragged breaths, said, "In my shorts pocket…"

  He scrambled, laughing at how all of this was so like a summer night many years ago, under the protecting boughs of blooming lilac. Once he was inside her again, she let out a happy sigh and whispered, "Now it’s my turn…"

  He let her take control.

  With every rock of her luscious hips, he lost a little of himself to her. He loved how she pressed her palms onto his shoulders to steady herself, to keep him where she wanted him. She varied her rhythm, sometimes slamming into him so hard he was sure it must hurt, but her moans and the way she vibrated around him said otherwise.

  She was like a drug for him. And when she came, he knew he didn’t want his addiction to end.

  "When I look at you, I still see the same Jonas who used to make me melt inside." Mariam turned over and draped her arm across his torso. They were still lying on picnic blanket they'd spread out under the fragrant boughs of the lilac tree. The sun had finally set now, but the night sky was not quite dark. Through the dense branches and plumes of pale purple flowers, pinpricks of stars dotted the sky. "But you're not the same...not really."

  "I'm a little older now." Jonas conceded. "I'm not that stupid boy anymore. Hopefully I'm a little wiser, a little braver too."

  The breeze caught her tangle of curls. She brushed them back, but they swept out and brushed his cheek, his chin.

  "How many more hours do we have?" Her lips brushed his, then lingered.

  "They’ll pick me up a little around four, then it’s back to the airport…and then New Orleans. "

  "Do you really have to go?"

  "I’ve got to tie up some loose ends.” But Jonas wished he could ignore them. At least for a little while. "I’ll be back. I promise this time."

  The silence pooled between them, but it held the words they’d whispered all night.

  The summer sun was high in the sky again, despite the early hour. The short nights and long hours of sun still took him by surprise. The city still slept, its streets still deserted save for a few birds and the occasional early riser waiting at a bus stop. Years ago, Jonas had been one of those early risers, up at 4AM and dragging his hockey gear behind him as he headed to hockey practice. Some mornings, he'd climbed out of Mariam's bedroom window with his hockey bag on his back, and nearly fallen each time, his mind and body still too sluggish from too little sleep and too much sex. It had been worth it, those stolen nights together. To make love to her, to fall asleep with her in his arms and wake beside her with the sweet scent of her on his skin.

  And last night... had he dreamed that she'd told him there was still a chance?

  No. He remembered every word. "I won't make you choose between hockey and me," she'd said as the sun crept over the horizon. Jonas held her close, this time she would not slip away. "I've tried living without you. I would rather have you in my life." She brushed her soft lips along his bridge of his nose. Jonas had woken early out of habit, still a little drunk on the taste of her and wanting more. "But I want us. I want us again."

  Damn it, he wanted it too...and going back to New Orleans now wasn't going to make it happen.

  The closer they came to the airport, the harder Jonas's heart beat. He squeezed his hands into fists and balanced them on his thighs. His mirrored sunglasses shielded him from the glaring sun, but his eyes were still tearing up. No, he couldn't leave now. Not when the life he wanted with Mariam was within his reach. It didn't matter what he'd promised Garsey and Babineaux. Jonas wasn't about to screw up with her for a second time.

  Edwin was already on the phone, verifying the travel plans for the Cup's next stop. I don't want this, the words tumbled around in his mind. He was still drunk on the taste of Mariam, of how right it felt to hold her, to be home again, to simply be with her again.

  "I don't want this." This time he said it aloud, his voice rough and raspy.

  "What's going on, Jonas?" Edwin knocked his glasses askew. He tried to straighten them, but it didn't help. "Wait—you're not coming with me?"

  Jonas shook his head no. "This... I'm not going back."

  "But the Cup—"

  "Fy fan! Screw the Cup. I'm staying here."

  "It's because of her, isn't it?” Edwin didn't bother to phrase it as a question. He didn't even sound surprised or disappointed. He laughed morosely. "Well, at least I've managed to keep the Cup from disappearing. Can't say the same about the players though."

  "I don't have it in me anymore," Jonas said. The tightness in his chest eased away. In its place the warmth of certainty took over. "I don't even see the point of the game anymore. I just want a normal life...with Mariam."

  "You're sure?"

  "Coming back here? It reminded me of what I wanted...and what I lost."

  "I knew this was going to happen." But Edwin looked more mirthful and chagrined. "I should have seen it already when we arrived." Then he tapped the driver on the shoulder, "You'd better head back to the city. Magnussen's decided he's staying."

  8

  Jonas

  The summer sun was high in the sky again, despite the early hour. The
short nights and long hours of sun still took him by surprise. The city still slept, its streets still deserted save for a few birds and the occasional early riser waiting at a bus stop. Years ago, Jonas had been one of those early risers, up at 4AM and dragging his hockey gear behind him as he headed to hockey practice. Some mornings, he'd climbed out of Mariam's bedroom window with his hockey bag on his back, and nearly fallen each time, his mind and body still too sluggish from too little sleep and too much sex. It had been worth it, those stolen nights together. To make love to her, to fall asleep with her in his arms and wake beside her with the sweet scent of her on his skin.

  And last night... had he dreamed that she'd told him there was still a chance?

  No. He remembered every word. "I won't make you choose between hockey and me," she'd said as the sun crept over the horizon. Jonas held her close, this time she would not slip away. "I've tried living without you. I would rather have you in my life." She brushed her soft lips along his bridge of his nose. Jonas had woken early out of habit, still a little drunk on the taste of her and wanting more. "But I want us. I want us again."

  Damn it, he wanted it too...and going back to New Orleans now wasn't going to make it happen.

  The closer they came to the airport, the harder Jonas's heart beat. He squeezed his hands into fists and balanced them on his thighs. His mirrored sunglasses shielded him from the glaring sun, but his eyes were still tearing up. No, he couldn't leave now. Not when the life he wanted with Mariam was within his reach. It didn't matter what he'd promised Garsey and Babineaux. Jonas wasn't about to screw up with her for a second time.

  Edwin was already on the phone, verifying the travel plans for the Cup's next stop. I don't want this, the words tumbled around in his mind. He was still drunk on the taste of Mariam, of how right it felt to hold her, to be home again, to simply be with her again.

  "I don't want this." This time he said it aloud, his voice rough and raspy.

  "What's going on, Jonas?" Edwin knocked his glasses askew. He tried to straighten them, but it didn't help. "Wait—you're not coming with me?"

  Jonas shook his head no. "This... I'm not going back."

  "But the Cup—"

  "Fy fan! Screw the Cup. I'm staying here."

  "It's because of her, isn't it?” Edwin didn't bother to phrase it as a question. He didn't even sound surprised or disappointed. He laughed morosely. "Well, at least I've managed to keep the Cup from disappearing. Can't say the same about the players though."

  "I don't have it in me anymore," Jonas said. The tightness in his chest eased away. In its place the warmth of certainty took over. "I don't even see the point of the game anymore. I just want a normal life...with Mariam."

  "You're sure?"

  "Coming back here? It reminded me of what I wanted...and what I lost."

  "I knew this was going to happen." But Edwin looked more mirthful and chagrined. "I should have seen it already when we arrived." Then he tapped the driver on the shoulder, "You'd better head back to the city. Magnussen's decided he's staying."

  Epilogue

  EPILOGUE - Jonas

  Coming back to New Orleans, even if it was only a quick visit, felt right. It had been close to a year since Jonas had even stepped foot in the Crescent Centre, but nothing had changed, not really. The changing rooms still smelled of sweat and testosterone and adrenaline fueled dreams. Jonas pressed his palm on the rough surface of his old locker. Though the nameplate with his name on it was still affixed to the front, there was a new Swede using it now--Oskar Lindeberg, a nineteen-year-old leftwing drafted straight from Örnsköldvik who the hockey press was already predicting would be the league's new shooting star.

  Life goes on, Jonas thought with a smile. Mariam stood to the side, giving him space so he could have his last moment as Rajun. The contracts were signed now. He was officially free, though he hadn't been on the ice in months. It was a good run, those years in the league and his time in New Orleans.

  He rapped his knuckles on the locker and said, "Tack för allt. Thanks for everything."

  He'd thought it would be harder to say goodbye, but he'd been away long enough that leaving professional hockey behind seemed almost too easy.

  "Somebody told me you were here." Thibs limped into the changing room, his cane tapping the scuffed floor. He gave Mariam a hug and then shuffled over to Jonas. The two men hugged and patted each other's shoulders. "You taking good care of Mariam?"

  "I'm trying," Jonas said with a grin. "She's a whirlwind."

  Thibs let out a hearty laugh. "You look happy again, son."

  "I am. Quitting the league was the best thing I ever did."

  "I can tell." Thibs patted Jonas's cheek. "You've even got some color in your cheeks."

  "Love will do that to you."

  "Have you seen the Cup?"

  "No, not yet," Jonas said. "We're heading there now."

  "I'll walk you over," Thibs said. He linked arms with Mariam and shuffled along, leaning heavily on his cane. He nodded at Mariam. "You know this one was like a son to me. All grim and silent...but underneath that frosty exterior, a good kid who was always trying to do the right thing."

  "He's a good man," Mariam glanced back at Jonas as they headed along the corridor to the display area for the Cup. Most days the Cup was on display to the public, but today they'd closed it to give Jonas a chance to pay his respects to Cup and to say goodbye. He appreciated that they'd done this for him. His eyes were already watering a bit and he would have hated to get emotional in front of strangers, even if they were Rajuns fans.

  "Did you get the new donation from the team? For the center? " Thibs wondered.

  "The new donation?" Mariam’s surprise elicited a smile from Jonas. "It’s been you guys all this time?" She’d been wondering who their anonymous benefactor was, but Jonas had pretended not to know anything about it. The first donation had been Jonas’s idea. He’d talked Babineaux and Garsey into picking a youth center in his hometown as a part of his agreement to take the Cup to Sweden. Now the team continued to send monthly donations to help the center do even more to provide homes and support for the children there.

  Thibs let out one of his signature cackles. "Iceman never told you, eh? We all wanted to help. There’s a shipment of hockey gear for the kids coming too."

  Once they reached the room where the Cup stood encased in a bulletproof glass case, a shiver of excitement went through Jonas. Was this what all the fans felt when they could see the Cup up close? Thibs gestured for the guard to open the case. "We know the Iceman isn't going to run off with it," he said.

  Jonas moved a little closer, his eyes wide with newfound gratitude and wonder. He hadn't even really thought about it last year when he had the Cup in his possession--now he was part of the grand tradition and history of the Cup.

  Mariam leaned into him as they read the names of the players of the winning teams. They found his name and jersey number, etched in cursive script.

  "Do you miss it?" she wondered.

  Jonas shook his head no. He didn't even need to think about it. All the hours he'd spent honing himself into the perfect hockey player, his whole life becoming about playing in the Swedish league and then eventually reaching the pro league in the US. As much as he loved the game, it didn't mean as much to him anymore, especially now when he could devote his time to getting to know his niece and nephew, and finally starting his own family.

  It wasn't much a secret now, though they'd hardly told anyone. Mariam's baby bump was more prominent now, but the hockey press hadn't mentioned it yet. Why should they? He was a former league player, not an up-and-comer, or the current hero. The press was more interested in the fights, the stats and who was MVP, not whether or not a former player was happily married and about to become a dad.

  Now they scanned the row of the new winners. The Rajuns had won again, surprising all the nay-sayers who'd sworn they couldn't work the same magic twice in a row. Some of the names were the same. Jonas's name wasn't a
mong the heroes, but he didn't care.

  "I've got everything I need," Jonas stroked the lovely curve of Mariam's neck, savoring the silky feel of her dark hair under his fingertips.

  "Good..." Mariam smiled up at Jonas. He still could not believe that she had given him a second chance. Every morning he woke up next to her reaffirmed his belief in love, in knowing that fate sometimes had a mysterious and funny way of working out just as it should.

  Nowadays, watching hockey on TV or from the stands was enough for him. He didn't miss the pain. He didn't miss those frenzied adrenaline rushes. Sometimes he missed his teammates, but they called or visited often enough that he still felt the same camaraderie with them.

  "Should we name her Constance?" Mariam mused. Jonas grinned at the wry smile on her beautiful lips. "I think Zim would love that."

  "He would." Jonas agreed. "We won't tell him yet though. It'll just go to his head."

  THE END

  About the Author

  These days, Kim Golden calls Stockholm, Sweden her home, but she is still a Philly girl and lifelong Flyers fan at heart. When she isn’t writing love stories or cheering for the boys from Broad Street, she’s traveling, drinking far too much wine and enjoying good food, and hanging out with her gorgeous Swedish hubby.

  Find out more about Kim, her writing and her latest NaNoWriMo project at kim-golden.com, or what she’s reading at kimtalksbooks.com.

  If you enjoyed reading Hot on Ice - A Hockey Romance Anthology and Under the Midnight Sun, please drop Kim a line at kimtalksbooks@gmail.com or write a review on Goodreads.

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