Hat Trick

by Kristen Hope Mazzola

  Myla begged me to go talk to someone, which I knew would be for the best, but tough guy hockey players don’t go to shrinks, and they sure as shit don’t let people know they have feelings and emotions—a sign of weakness that would get my ass handed to me by even my own teammates.

  I slammed my skates into the ice, marking and cutting it up. The cool air whisked by as the silence sank into my skin. Being alone was all too bittersweet; thoughts and questions boiled up from the darkest pits and I hated every minute of it, but then there were those quick moments of clarity and peace where I finally felt like I was the man my mother would be proud of and the role model my sister deserved.

  One of the rink doors banged, pulling me away from my thoughts, and I growled when Gavin skated into my view. His cocky ass leer made me want to deck him, but he hadn’t pushed me far enough to justify kicking his ass—yet.

  “Hey, Cox. Trying to get in some extra skating practice so you stop looking like a damn ballerina out here?”

  “Shut the hell up, Hayes. Don’t you have another hour of kissing coach’s ass before you start getting annoying?”

  “Fuck you. That’s no way to talk to your captain.”

  I flipped him off while bowing to him. “As you wish, your captain-ness.”

  “Jerk,” he muttered under his breath.

  It took everything in my power to not lay him out right there, but I wanted to keep my job and assaulting a teammate was frowned upon to say the least—let alone the captain and the fucking coach’s son.

  For the rest of the hour we practiced short stops and skating backward in complete silence. I really couldn’t put my finger on it; I knew I hated Gavin, but I had no idea why. It wasn’t that he was the coach’s son; my father had also been a famous player back in the day. We both deserved to be there—he was one hell of a good player—but there was just something about him.

  The hour went by and then it was time to actually practice. The rest of the team joined Gavin and me on the ice and it was business as usual. Even with all the sharp-tongued comments and obvious bad blood between Gavin and me, we were good at being teammates when it was all said and done. One thing I could really give both of us credit for was leaving most of our baggage off the ice.

  Myla

  “Girls!” I blew my whistle as loud as I could to get the elementary school-aged girls to pay attention to me. “Girls, come on over here. We’re going to practice skating backward today.”

  The ten tiny graceless kids shuffled their way over to me. It was adorable watching them waddle and try their best to be elegant. I was lucky; this group of peewees was way better behaved than the group I was in at their age. We used to make our coach’s life a living nightmare, always getting hurt, never listening, trying to do moves that were way over our heads—I couldn’t believe Mrs. Riley didn’t give up on us after one week.

  “Ok, Jess, you’re up first.” It was completely wrong, but I totally played favorites when it came to my kids, and Jessica Schwendeman was absolutely stealing my heart.

  Her light brown hair was braided into two fish bones that ran all the way down her back, she had the cutest pink glasses, and her sweaters always matched them in some way. She had a drive and determination that was unseen in most adults. I could just tell that this little lady was going to really make something of herself; if it wasn’t on the ice, it would be in the boardroom.

  Her little fingers gripped mine. “But, Coach Myla, I’ve never skated backward before.”

  I held her hand a little tighter. “That’s why I am going to teach you.”

  “Coach?” Jess asked as I started to slowly push her backward.

  “Yeah sweetie?” She was being a trooper, but I could see in her eyes how terrified she was.

  Her cheeks turned a deeper shade as she bit her bottom lip. “Um, is it true that your brother plays for the Otters?”

  She looked down at our skates.

  “Yes, my brother is Brayden Cox. He plays right wing.” Her crooked grin grew as crimson took over her entire face, moved down her neck, and even covered her ears. “Do you like hockey?”

  She nodded her head feverishly. “I wanted to play hockey, but my mom said I would get hurt so I had to do this instead.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re here.” Jessica’s shaking ankles started to get noticeable.

  Jessica’s smile returned to her adorable face. “I’m glad I’m here too.”

  I started to bring her back over to the rest of the group. “Keep the pressure on the outside of your skates, and don’t let your ankles roll inward.”

  I clapped, sending Jess back over to her friends. “Ok, who’s next?”

  Brayden

  Taking my seat in the folding metal chair for the first time in years made my skin crawl. I gripped the cold shelf in front of me that led to the glass partition that would soon have my father on the other side.

  Waiting for the guards to bring him in, my thoughts wandered back to being fifteen and the police banging on the door that Friday night while I sat on the couch with my mother and sister watching My Cousin Vinnie for the hundredth time.

  “No, I’ll get it.” I grabbed my mom’s hand as she tried to get up to see who was at the door. A voice called through the thick oak before I was even two steps away from the couch. “Police!”

  With my mother and sister in tow, I opened the front door. “Officer? How can I help you?” I tried to lower my voice and sound like the man of the house I had become just a few weeks before.

  “Son, is your mother home?” An older officer stood in front of me with his hands on his hips, and a younger redhead stood to his right, chewing on his gum like a cow.

  “I’m right here.” My mother shoved me out of the way, shooing me with her hands. “Bray, take your sister into the living room while I speak with the officers.”

  I nodded and grabbed Myla’s shaking hand, turning toward our paused movie, but my feet didn’t move. Every hair on my body stood on end as I listened to their conversation unravel.

  “Ma’am, are you Mrs. Cox?”

  My mother’s voice broke as she said, “Yes, what’s this about?”

  “Is your husband Reggie Cox? Does he live here?”

  “He is my husband, but he moved out a few weeks ago. I haven’t heard from him in days.”

  “Mrs. Cox, your husband has been in an accident. He is at the hospital. We have every reason to believe he was intoxicated.”

  My mother gasped right as I turned around to watch her trembling body lean against the doorjamb. “Is he…?”

  “He’s stable, but he hit a car with a family in it. The two passengers passed on their way to the hospital and the driver is in critical condition. Ma’am, you might want to get your husband a lawyer.”

  The first thing I saw was how sunken my father’s eyes were as he took his seat on the other side of the glass. I grabbed the black phone next to me and waited for him to get his to his ear.

  “Hey, Pop. How’s it going?” It was hard to look him in the eye. He had lost at least fifteen pounds since the last time I’d seen him. All the fight left in him had vanished. His dark eyes had receded into hollowed pits of nothingness. The life sentence was starting to get the better of my old man.

  His voice was raspy as he choked out, “Fine. Same shit, different day. What brings you down here, son? It’s been a while.”

  “Good to see you too, Pop. I have some news to tell you. This isn’t easy for me, but I figured it was your right to know…eventually, anyway.”

  I glared at a fly on the wall behind my father, trying to find the right words. Everything has gone to shit since the accident with Myla and Mom, and him being locked up was just the icing on the cake of it all. I didn’t need him to be my dad, but it would have been nice to have one more person in my corner every once in a while.

  “What’s up, kid?”

  “Well, it’s Mom.” I felt water trying to fill my eyes but I bit back my emotions when I saw that my father’s exp
ression hadn’t changed. “She’s gone.”

  There it was, the worry I had expected. He gripped the phone until his knuckles turned white and the little color he had left drained out of his cheeks as he asked, “What do you mean, gone?”

  “Myla and Mom were on their way to visit you a while ago. A semi ran a stoplight and smashed into their car. Myla was in a coma for two days and had some pretty bad injuries. Mom didn’t make it out of the car.”

  I felt like I had to spit the words out before they choked me. I hadn’t explained the accident to anyone except Myla and this was the last time I planned on talking about it.

  “Wait, they were coming here?”

  I nodded and waited for the timeline to click in his head. All of a sudden his face went red, boiling crimson as his eyes shot daggers at me.

  “It took you two fucking years to come here and tell me my wife is dead and my daughter almost met her maker too?”

  All I could do was nod and grumble, “Ex-wife.”

  He jumped to his feet and screamed, “Guard!”

  I yelled into the phone, “Nice seeing you, Pop. See you at your parole hearing next month.”

  I slammed the receiver down and walked away from my father as his cuffs were put on and he was escorted back to his cell.

  Chapter 7

  Myla

  Burrowing through my closet, I finally found the dress I had been looking for. I knew I needed a showstopper for Simon’s birthday party to finally make him shut up about my usual attire.

  After taking a shower and shaving my legs for the first time in weeks, I dug my makeup bag out and turned on my curling iron. Usually, I let my long blonde hair air dry into its normal straight layers, but that night I was going to pull out every trick in the book that I could flipping think of.

  Doing my makeup and curling my hair, I finally started to feel like a girl again for the first time in years. I had been overly girly growing up, making sure not even one eyelash was out of place, but once my life changed, so did how much I cared about my appearance.

  In my full-length mirror, I did a onceover. My curls were tight and holding well, super bouncy and cute. My makeup was simple and natural; I didn’t want to go overboard. Since I hadn’t really worn much makeup in over two years, the process called for baby steps for sure. My long dark blue chiffon dress was strapless and formfitting in all the right places. I topped it off with a really high pair of taupe pumps and a clutch to match.

  This is going to be a really good night.

  It was like a sigh of relief was coming over me. I saw the old me shining through just a little and it was a comforting feeling, like getting home after a long trip away and crawling into your own bed again.

  The sound of the front door slamming startled me. “Brayden?” I called through my open bedroom door.

  From down the stairs I heard a slurred, “Yeah, it’s me.”

  Brayden’s heavy footsteps thumped on each creaky step of our old home, making their way up to my room. I yanked the zipper to my dress up and smoothed it out right as his big, muscular figure filled my doorway.

  “Going somewhere, sis?”

  I looked at my brother in the reflection of the mirror over my dresser. “Uh huh.” I mumbled, pulling my lips tight over my teeth, smearing on lip gloss. “It’s Simon’s birthday, so I’m going to meet him at a club on the Upper East Side. A cab will be here pretty soon. Wanna tag along?”

  I could smell the copious amounts of alcohol Brayden had obviously just consumed from across my room and was silently hoping he would decline my offer. Slowly he made his way from leaning on my doorframe to sitting on my bed.

  This cannot be good.

  “Bray?”

  He looked up at me, his normally bright amber eyes glossed over and a few days of stubble lining his jaw. He looked like a freaking train wreck. “Yeah sis?”

  “Is everything okay? I thought practice was going to be running late. Shouldn’t you still be at the rink?”

  “Nope. Not this guy.” He lazily tried to point at himself before his hand fell back into his lap.

  I took a seat next to him on my bed. “What the hell happened this time?”

  “I got sent home early.” His words started to completely slur together.

  “Ugh! Brayden! How badly did you hurt the other guy?”

  “He hooked me right into the boards, so I tried to break his eye socket.” As the words slowly slipped from his lips, he began to look more and more upset. His left eye started to close, just enough to show how fucking wasted he really was.

  “It happens, man. You know that. Remember in high school when that guy broke your nose for blocking his shot?”

  Brayden smirked a little. “Yeah, but that wasn’t my teammate, My. Coach is fuckin’ pissed as all hell.”

  I patted him on the shoulder as his body swayed a bit. “I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as you think. It will all blow over by the next practice.”

  Brayden leaned back on my bed, propping himself up by one elbow, and started laughing. “Yeah, I hope so. He is the coach’s son though, so he might hold a grudge on this one.”

  “Holy shit, Bray. You’re fighting with Gavin Hayes? He’s the freaking best defender you have and you’re pissing him off?” I hated getting into my brother’s team business but hockey was in both of our blood and I couldn’t always hold my tongue on how stupid he could be most of the time.

  “I went to visit him today. It was bad. That bastard sperm donor of ours.” My brother’s words hit my heart with a sledgehammer.

  “What the hell, Brayden? You promised! If we were going to tell him, we’d do it together.” I took a few slow breaths to cool my building temper.

  “Yeah, I know, but I didn’t want you to have to see him like that. He’s not the same person. He’s not our dad anymore.”

  I started to pace around my room, trying to level myself out. I knew my brother was trying to do the right thing and protect me, but protecting me from my own father—that was a little more than I could handle. “We’ll talk about this in the morning.” I seethed as I heard a horn blare from outside my window. “I won’t be home until late. Sleep off that whiskey, Bray. You smell like you brought the bar home with you.”

  Grabbing my purse and shoving my lip gloss in, I leaned over and kissed my big brother on the cheek. He whispered, “Love ya,” then fell back on my bed and immediately started snoring.

  Fucking perfect.

  “Myla, oh thank God! You came and you look fabulous!” Practically singing, Simon grabbed my hand and twirled me around a few times before he took me into his arms. “Come, I have tons of people to introduce you to.”

  The club was bustling with wall-to-wall people dancing, laughing, and drinking. Everyone kept grabbing Simon to try to get him to dance, chat, or do shots with them. It was my first time in an actual night club, and the bright flashing lights, the loud pounding bass, and the exorbitant number of people grinding on each other was all a lot to take in while being whisked around by my arm and shaking hands with everyone we passed.

  “Adam!” Simon screamed over to a tall ginger that was getting a cocktail from the bar. His light gray button-down clung to his arms, shoulders, and chest, his face was lightly dusted with freckles, his long, dark red hair was pulled back into a bun, and he had a thick well-kept beard surrounding a gorgeous, toothy grin. I stopped dead. This guy was one of the most handsome men I had ever seen. I mean come on, a mun? Yes, please.

  “Simon, how are you?” They shook hands before Simon led the tall drink of water over to me.

  “This is one of my dearest friends, Myla. Adam was one of my students when he was in high school.”

  Adam turned a thousand shades of red as he took my hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “So, you’re a figure skater?” We took seats at the bar. I looked around for Simon but he had gotten lost in the crowd of guests.

  Adam shook his head. “I tried it out when I broke my wrist pretty badly pl
aying varsity hockey. How do you know Simon?”

  “I’m one of his assistant coaches.”

  He waved over to the bartender. “What’re you drinking, Myla?”

  I blushed a little. “Just water, thanks.”

  The bartender handed me a plastic cup with a lemon on the rim.

  “Not drinking tonight?” He smiled, drinking from his martini glass. He looked so sophisticated and I felt like a little girl—cue nervousness and extreme awkwardness.

  I giggled a little, trying to mask my nerves. “I don’t really drink.”

  “Ah. You’re one of those types of athletes.” I strained to ignore the condescending undertone of the statement, but it got the better of me.

  “What do you mean one of those?” I was trying to play coy; I had never flirted with an older guy before. With all the skating practice I did during high school, there was no room for flirting, or dating at all. The longest relationship I’d ever had had only consisted of about two months of barely communicating through texts, two dinner-and-a-movie dates, and one failure of a sexual encounter—super lame.

  “It’s a good thing you’re that disciplined to not drink. You’re probably in great shape.” His eyes traveled down my bare legs and back up to my cleavage. In seconds, I felt completely exposed.

  “I guess you could say that. I’ve actually never had a drink in my life.”

  Adam nearly choked. Coughing and grabbing his chest, he exclaimed, “What?”

  I shook my head, smiling. “Nope, never touched a drop. My brother drinks enough for the both of us, to be honest. I’ve never even been interested in it.”

  “So how does a nice girl like you wind up working for a crazy-ass like Simon?” Adam waved to the bartender for another drink. “Perfect gin martini stirred with the dirty ice back, please.”