Hooked: A Hockey Romance
Page 15
I scoffed. “Hunter wouldn't do that.”
“But I will fire her,” the executive said as he butted in—and he hurried for the door.
***
I watched with arms folded as Madison was pulled from the ice girls and told to pack her things. She reacted like one might expect: with blood-curdling screams and a total melt-down. She started shrieking and even tried to start swinging at the team executive, but a few of the ice girls managed to hold her back until she chilled out enough.
As security escorted Madison past me, she dug her heels in and stopped. Her eyes burned with hatred.
“I hope you're happy,” she snarled. “You got me fired!”
“You brought this on yourself, Madison,” I said with a shake of my head.
“He'll never love you!” she shouted over her shoulder.
I rolled my eyes. “Whatever.”
All the ice girls watched the scene go down. Led by Cora, they stepped near to talk.
“The hell happened with her?” she asked. “The exec just told me I'm captain now because Madison's fired.”
I gave her, and all the ice girls listening in, every last detail of the drama. I finished by addressing the team. “And I know you girls probably hate me, because of what happened with me and Hunter … but it's not like I wanted to like him. It just sort of happened. And I certainly never wanted Madison to get fired, either.”
“Damn. Crazy.” Cora shook her head. “Well … for my first act of captain? I'd like to invite you back. Wanna suit up and join us for the last period?”
“But what about the rules? I broke the 'no fraternization' policy.”
I figured the rest of the ice girls would nod with agreement—I thought they wanted me burned at the stake, after all. But, instead, they were suddenly trading guilty expressions.
Cora sighed and spoke up first. “I'll let you in on Madison's dirty little secret: that rule only applied to you.”
“Seriously? I mean that was pretty obvious from the beginning, but why?”
“The thing with Allison and Hunter really set her off. So she said any new hires had to obey by that rule, but not anyone else.”
The other girls nodded in agreement.
Cora shrugged. “But, as the new captain, I can axe that rule and bring you right back. So?”
I frowned. “Well, that's sweet of you. I'm just not sure I should come back after everything that happened.”
Cora addressed the team. “Girls, all in favor of welcoming Honor back?”
One arm after another went into the air, until they were all raised. I couldn't believe it and wasn't sure if I wanted to even come back … but Cora put her arm around me and led me to our dressing room.
“C'mon, rookie, get dressed. I'm sure Hunter wants to see you out there, anyway.”
Chapter 26:
Comeback
Rockwell
We took to the ice for the start of the third period. Our hometown crowd was flat, lifeless—but who could blame them, down 4-0, with our season on the line?
I gathered the boys before the opening draw. “Just one goal, boys. It all starts with one.”
Cunningham took the draw opposite me. Before the ref dropped the puck, he was up to his usual antics, trying to throw me off.
“Hey Rocky. Nice of you to join us again!”
“Better watch yourself out here in the third,” I answered calmly.
“Oh yeah? Why's that? You gonna do something?”
“I finally told the boys why we had that fight way back when, actually. They weren't too happy.”
Cunningham shot me a worried look. “Y-you did?”
Funny. It never occurred to me until that moment that my secret wasn't just my burden, it was also his. Even though he tortured me with the fact he'd fucked my fiance, he never wanted his teammates to know what he'd done. Because word spreads in a locker room …
I winked at him. “Sure did.”
For once, Cunningham shut his mouth. His troubled gaze dropped to the ice instead. The ref dropped the puck, and Cunningham was too slow to react. I swiped at the puck and won it back.
On our very first shift, we pinned the Bears in their defensive zone. I grabbed the puck behind the net and skated in front, jamming the puck into the goalie's pads—and the puck squirted between his legs and trickled into the net.
We celebrated as our goal horn sounded. 4-1.
“Just one more goal, boys,” I told them.
When the ice girls came out, Honor was with them—and Madison was the girl who'd gone missing. Honor gave me an uncertain smile as she skated past, as if to say, “Welp! Here I am!”
I couldn't be happier to see her.
Play resumed, and I watched from the bench as our second line, led by Vinny, picked up right where our first line left off. Vinny cycled the puck with his linemates, grinding out the Bears defense, until they managed to send a cross-ice pass to the d-man on the point. The d-man wound up and blasted at the puck—and Vinny, standing in front of the goalie, managed to get his stick on the airborn puck just enough to deflect it past the goaltender.
The goal horn blared. 4-2, and now the crowd was starting to show some signs of life.
“One more, boys. One more.”
Cunningham looked like a scared puppy out there on the ice. My teammates knew where he was at every second, and were just waiting for the moment to catch him with a big hit. But Cunningham, like I've said, is a slippery snake of a player. And every time he got the puck, he got rid of it in a hurry, long before any of our guys were close enough to hit him.
But Cunningham's allergic reaction to the puck put his team in a bad spot. The Bears needed him to step up, play a solid game, and lead the offense—not act all skittish and afraid. His cowardice had them skating around like headless chickens.
And it was our third line, led by Iggy, that crashed the net and whacked in a rebound to make the game 4-3.
The goal horn sounded, the crowd went nuts, the Bears took their timeout, and I tried to rally the team for the last time, with ten minutes left in the game.
“One more goal, boys, and we're tied. Focus. They're scrambling. We got this. Fuck 'em.”
But when play resumed, the Bears play had calmed—their coach must've ripped into them and told them to wake up before they blew their lead.
We fought hard. Every skater that jumped over those boards and joined the play skated with purpose, with determination and swagger. I was sure we'd tie the game.
But as the seconds ticked off the clock, and the minutes rolled by … and we still hadn't found the back of the net … it was our turn to worry. As we started to nervously grip our sticks tighter, the Bears loosened up and played with confidence. Even Cunningham.
Fuck, I grumbled under my breath during the last timeout, and the ice girls took the ice for the last time. Even the ice girls looked nervous.
But, as the girls circled the rink, Cunningham hopped over the boards.
“The hell is he doing?” Vinny asked me.
Cunningham stood and waited. When Honor went by, he pushed off and skated next to her. My blood boiled and my fists clenched as I saw him mutter something to her. And then his hand went to her side.
I almost jumped over the bench to skate him down the second I saw that—but the boys grabbed me and didn't let me go.
Turns out, I didn't have to dole out justice—because Honor did something a little crazy. She gave Cunningham a stiff-arm to the sternum and, digging her skate blades into the ice, gave him a mighty shove. Cunningham didn't even have to sell it—she truly knocked him right off his skates, and he crashed to the ice on his tailbone. He writhed on the ice, rubbing his rear.
The crowd loved it, and so did the boys. Iggy slapped at my back. “Holy shit! That's your girl, Rockwell!”
But the boys from Boston didn't love it so much. Their coach screamed at the refs from the bench, demanding a penalty against us because “those ice girls just attacked our star player!”
“Maybe if he hadn't grabbed her bare side with his grubby mitts, she wouldn't have pushed back. You guys saw it, don't lie. You know that's wrong. Can't go around grabbing ladies like that.”
My old teammates didn't have the courage to look me in the eye, and so I knew they agreed.
“Speaking of grabbing ladies? I'll tell you boys something else. You better watch that one,” I pointed across the ice at Cunningham as he slowly rose to his skates, “when he's around your girlfriends and your wives.”
“The hell are you talking about, Rocky?” one of the Bears asked me.
“He never told you guys why we had that big fight, then? Huh! Imagine that! I guess you guys wouldn't trust him if you knew he was the type of teammate who'd fuck your fiance while you're skating an optional practice.” I turned and skated off as Cunningham labored back over to the bench.
I heard his teammate yell, “Cunningham! You fucked Rocky's fiance? Jesus Christ!”
That was the final blow for Boston. Finding out their captain would stab his best friend in the back sucked the wind right out of their sails. The Bears took the ice, bent-over at the waist and shaking their heads.
With a minute left, I raced into the offensive zone with the puck, dangled past the Boston defense, and lifted a short-side shot over the goalie's glove to score the tying goal.
The arena went nuts—with thousands of fans jumping up and down and cheering, the whole building rumbled with energy.
And, before the game even made it to overtime, Vinny would take a slapper that put us ahead 5-4.
We were going to the playoffs.
***
The celebration in the dressing room was wild. But while the boys laughed and shouted and recounted our miraculous third period comeback, I threw off my shoulder pads and jersey and raced for the girl's dressing room.
I knocked on the door. “Come in!” the girls answered.
I threw open the door. I was a sweaty wreck, and my athletic tights were drenched and plastered to my body. But Honor didn't mind. She jumped off the bench and threw herself into my arms. I caught her and we shared a kiss, like long lost lovers who had been separated for way too long. Hell, after the day we'd had, it sure felt like it.
And all the girls in the room went, “aaaaw!”
I put her down at last, smiling at her. “That was awesome, by the way. The way you knocked Cunningham over.”
“What choice did I have? That creep actually touched me!”
All the girls huffed and puffed with outrage on Honor's behalf.
“Yeah, he's sick!”
“I'm so glad she pushed him!”
“But forget all that—more importantly, you guys are going to be in the playoffs!” Honor squealed.
“I don't even care about that right now,” I said, and I pulled her near again for another kiss. “I just want you.”
Chapter 27:
Out of the Woods
Honor
After Hunter and the team's amazing comeback, the hockey team wanted to hit the bars and celebrate. But Hunter had to shake his head.
“Sorry boys, I can't tonight. I've gotta clean up this mess that Madison left for us. You guys have fun, though.”
His teammates laughed and joked about what he really wanted to do tonight, wink wink.
After they left us alone, Hunter and I hung out in the men's dressing room. He reached his lawyer on the phone and explained the situation. The lawyer managed to get a cease and desist letter sent immediately, and the GutterSports blog was taken down by the web server.
Funny twist in that story? The owner of the blog was none other than one Madison Sanguinetti. And, thankfully, she didn't have much of a following—the web server was able to tell us that the page with my pictures had been accessed fewer than 50 times before it was axed.
Whew.
So it wasn't like my pictures were all over the internet. Just on Madison's little corner of it. Lastly, Hunter's lawyer said he'd send a threatening letter to Madison, ordering her to destroy any pictures and information she'd stolen from Hunter's phone, or face legal action.
While I was happy that my pictures didn't go viral or anything like that … the fact of the matter was, my family was one of the few people who'd managed to see them. And that sucked. A lot. My phone had been ringing all night. Now that the game was over, I couldn't ignore it any longer.
I readied myself to answer the phone and face the music—but before I could, Hunter extended his hand. “Lemme talk to them.”
“What?” I laughed. “Are you nuts?”
“No, I'm not nuts. But I did get you involved in this. It's my fault. Let me talk to them.”
“Um …” I wasn't sure, but I handed my phone over to him anyway.
“Hello?” Hunter began. “Hey, Derek. The brother, right? Hi. This is Hunter. Yep, Rockwell. Yeah, she's right here next to me.”
I couldn't help but bury my face in my hands as I listened to Hunter talk to Derek for the first time. Actually—talking to Derek went fine. Derek immediately brought up hockey, and they started talking about the game. Apparently Derek had watched, and was ranting about how awesome the comeback was.
Hunter's eyes grew wide. “Yeah? They really showed that on TV? Awesome!” Hunter whispered to me, “your family saw you knock Cunningham on his ass live on TV!”
I laughed. “Great …”
Then, Derek had to pass the phone to my Dad. Hunter's tone was suddenly far more serious and respectful.
“Hello, sir. Yes, sir. I know, and I apologize, sir. Yes sir, I'm very serious about your daughter.”
After Dad had finished venting his concerns and frustrations, Hunter gave him the run down of how he'd already handled the situation and gotten his lawyer involved. “Not that I don't take this situation seriously, sir. I'm every bit as embarrassed and angry as you are that those pictures were taken from my phone. Still, I take full responsibility for it, and I can promise you that nothing like that will happen again.”
And then Hunter passed me the phone. “They want you.”
“Hello?” I asked.
“Sweetheart?” Now it was my Mom.
“Yes?”
“Are you really dating that hockey player?” she asked.
I took a breath, and locked eyes with Hunter. “Yes, Mom.”
“Oh! How exciting. He's very handsome. We were all watching that game. You looked great! But that shove was so violent, though … you must get that from your brothers …” Mom sighed.
“Alright, Mom—Hunter and I need to get going. I love you guys! Bye!”
I hung up and gave Hunter a big smile. “Welp! I think we're officially out of the woods.”
He wrapped his arms around me and kissed me. “You ready to head home, then?”
“God, yes.”
“Your place or mine?” he asked.
“Easy. Yours.”
***
Back at Hunter's hotel room, he poured us two glasses of wine. Tired, Hunter threw off his shirt, collapsed on the couch and kicked his legs up on the coffee table. I curled up next to him, and the two of us enjoyed a glass of Merlot—dry, bold, almost smoky—while we reflected over the insanity that was the past twenty-four hours.
“Man,” Hunter sighed. “What a day.”
I wormed myself behind him on the couch to massage his giant, round shoulders. “Tired, my guy?”
“Sure am. So glad everything worked out, though.”
“Jeez, you're tight,” I said, kneading at the thick knots of muscle in his shoulders, huge and hopelessly bound. “How's that feel?”
“Mm. Good.”
He was only being polite—I knew I wasn't strong enough to actually get in deep and soothe his muscles. The wine was probably making him feel more relaxed than I was.
“Well, you better not get too tired,” I told him.
Hunter cracked a smile as he turne
d to look at me. “Oh no? Why not?”
“Oh, no reason,” I lied. I ran my nails up and down his torso, inching ever-closer to his waist. My tease worked: a bulge began to swell in the crotch of his trousers. Hunter sighed as his length thickened and inched down the thigh of his pants.
I kissed the nape of his neck and whispered in his ear, “Oh! Looks like you're getting excited.”
“Damn right I am.” He took my wrist and guided my hand between his legs.
I whispered in his ear again as I caressed his throbbing manhood. “I'm yours, Hunter.”
“That's what I like to hear.”
“So how do you want me?”
He didn't have to think it over. Hunter turned around and tackled me, stapling my backside to the couch. Hungrily, he kissed me. Impatiently, his hands slithered up my shirt and bra. A heat between my thighs began to grow—and Hunter stoked that needy fire with every selfish grab, lick, grope and suck.
Soon his hands were between my legs, too—slipping under my waistband, then slipping under my panties, then his warm fingers were softly thrumming at my already-sopping-wet folds. Hunter toyed with me until he had me helplessly thrusting my hips at his mouth. I begged for his lips, his tongue, his cock.
With my legs spread high above my head, Hunter mounted me and pushed in.
“Hunter!” I moaned as I felt every inch of him—rock-hard and pulsing—part my lips and glide along my wetness.
Chapter 28:
Negotiations
Rockwell
Three months later.
I raised my fist. But before I knocked on the door, I straightened my tie and blew out one last heavy sigh.
Okay. This is it.
I knocked.
“Come in,” a voice on the other side answered—it was the Blizzard's general manager, Jon Walton.
I stepped in and waved. “Morning, Mr. Walton, how are you?”