Page 3

Chapter 3

Zeke

M y heart pounded in my chest, adrenaline flowing through my veins. The roar of the crowd receded in my ears as I concentrated on the game around me.

It was my first pre-season game with the Wolves, and it felt…just like a first game. I wasn’t meshing with the other players, I didn’t know anyone well enough to know what to expect from them, and Piper’s dumb physical evaluation from almost a month ago was still bouncing around in my head. The urgency to show my teammates I still had what it took to be a professional hockey player and that I could be an asset to the team was so strong, I was practically begging them to pass me the puck. Yes, I might have been the oldest on the team, but that also meant I’d played this game the longest. They didn’t seem to care about experience, since they kept passing to Holden on the left instead of me.

To make matters worse, we were playing one of the Wolves’ biggest rivals, the Blue Jays. Even before donning a Minnesota jersey, I had never liked the Blue Jays. Especially Jordan Tuvalo. I’d disliked him since before he’d joined the Blue Jays, so his presence only added to my dislike for the team in general. And because I was a right wing, I got to have some up close and personal time with Jordan, as the Blue Jays’ left defenseman. Lucky me.

He’d already been chirping at me, and I wanted nothing more than to shove him against the boards. Unfortunately, I hadn’t touched the puck enough to have to deal with him too much tonight.

The puck was passed to Holden again—no surprise there—as we made our drive down to the goal. I raced down with him, making sure I was ready for whatever came next.

As the puck slid across the ice toward me, I quickly realized I wasn’t ready.

Shoot .

I hadn’t thought he would send it my way, so I got a little slack on the ice, but Holden had known me since we’d been on the New York Coyotes together, so I should have anticipated his pass.

I grappled to get control of the puck and sped off toward the goal.

“Look who finally got the biscuit,” Jordan taunted, coming up alongside me and shoving me against the boards.

I gritted my teeth against my mouth guard and pushed back.

We wrestled for the puck, and when I broke free, I hurried to snap my wrist and get off a snapshot, holding my breath as the puck sped toward the goal.

Their goalie froze the puck, trapping it on the ice, and I growled in frustration at the save.

The buzzer sounded, ending the second period, and as I went to skate toward the bench, Jordan blocked me.

“Still trying to play the game, old man?” he sneered.

He was only five years younger than me, but five years in hockey years was more like fifteen.

I moved to go around him, ignoring him, but he matched my movements.

“What’s wrong, Grandpa? You can’t handle it that no one on your twentieth team wants to pass the biscuit to you? That no one trusts you won’t fall and break that hip of yours?” He gestured to my right hip with his stick.

I ground my teeth together, breathing through my nose in hopes that I could tamp down my anger. Jordan wanted me to react, to fight him, but I wasn’t about to give him that satisfaction. He could goad me all he wanted about my age and how many teams I’d been on throughout my career, but when it came down to it, he was only doing this because he knew I was still a good player. One who had gotten the best of him plenty of times over the last several years.

“Lawson!” Coach Hill yelled. “Stop chitchatting and get your butt over here.”

I tried not to glare at Coach, but I didn’t think it worked. Yeah, I was just over here shooting the breeze with this jerk.

Jordan finally moved out of my way, and I skated past him, but his words trailed after me. “There’s no way you’ll be coming back out in the third period. You’re done, Lawson. Accept it. Everyone else has.”

His words made my blood boil as I made my way to the locker room.

I yanked off my helmet and sat down in front of my locker, waiting to hear what Coach had to say. The rest of the team was hydrating and changing jerseys while I re-taped my hockey stick.

“Lawson, you okay?” Coach asked, adjusting his ball cap.

“I’m fine,” I gritted out.

“Don’t lie to me,” he barked. “This is a team sport, and I won’t have anyone out on the ice who is only playing for themselves. Your puck control was off on that last play, and then Tuvalo hit you pretty hard. Tell me now if you’re not physically or mentally ready to go back out.”

I stood, chucking my stick on the floor. “I’m fine!” I roared. “If this is such a team sport, then why don’t you worry about the rest of your team? They won’t even pass to me!”

It wasn’t like me to yell at my coach, but between being invisible on the ice and Jordan getting in my head, I was a loose cannon.

“You know what happens to players who disrespect me?” Coach Hill asked, but didn’t wait for an answer. “They sit on the bench. And that’s exactly where you’ll be next period.”

I wanted to scream.

My body fell back down to sit on the bench in front of my locker, the anger and fight in me dying out. I dropped my head in my hands, my sweat-damp hair curling around my fingers. My hockey world seemed to be crumbling around me, and I didn’t know how to fix it.

In all my years in the NHL, I’d never sat on the bench for an entire period. It was torture watching the Blue Jays beat us and not being able to do anything about it. I watched Cornell, who was a rookie, play my position, and every time he made a mistake, I tried not to look at Coach Hill with a Happy now? look.

It didn’t help my mood that Jordan kept giving me smug glances. When he had shut Cornell down hard, looking over at me and giving me a wink, I’d wanted to jump over the wall and punch him in the chiclets. His pretty boy face wouldn’t be so pretty with a few missing teeth.

The Blue Jays won 3-0. I hoped it wasn’t a precursor to what our season was going to be. We trudged into the locker room, mostly silent as we got undressed, ready to hit the showers.

Coach Hill strode in and stopped in front of me. “I want you to meet with Ms. Fallon as soon as you’re done showering. I need you as my right wing. I don’t care if you think you don’t need extra physical therapy. You’ll meet with her as often as she deems necessary, and you won’t talk back to me again. Do you understand?”

I nodded and worked to keep a smile off my face. “Yes, sir.” Glad he could see that he needed me out on the ice. Hopefully that would help the team see I was capable of helping them win.

He turned to the rest of the team. “I want to see all of you tomorrow morning at ten for practice. If I learned anything by watching you tonight, it’s that you’re sloppy and selfish. A grueling practice should help fix that.” He walked out of the locker room, clearly frustrated and disappointed.

Once Coach was gone, Holden came up to me, slapping me on the back. “Nice going tonight,” he teased, his grey eyes filled with amusement.

I shook my head at him with a smile. “Shut up, Prescott.” I pulled my jersey over my head.

He only laughed at me as he started to take off his pads.

Holden and I hadn’t been particularly close when we’d played on the Coyotes last season, but now with both of us being new on the Wolves, we had stuck together.

He was eight years younger than me and headed into his prime. I envied him for that, but he was a good kid, and he had what it took to make himself a household name.

“Thanks for passing the puck to me,” I told him. “Sorry I wasn’t expecting it. That’s on me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he assured me, fingering combing his damp brown hair. “It was just our first preseason game. We’ll get better.” He paused and looked around the room. “They’ll figure out soon that you can still skate circles around them.”

I was grateful for his confidence in me because right now I wasn’t sure I had any.

I quickly showered and got changed so I could meet with Piper, knowing that she would be waiting for me.

She looked up from her phone when I entered the room, setting it down on the counter. “How are you feeling after the game?” she asked.

Why did everyone assume I was in pain after the game? Yeah, I’d probably feel that hit tomorrow, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. Some rest and some over the counter pain relievers would do the trick.

“I can barely walk,” I deadpanned as I walked over and sat down on one of the treatment tables.

“Funny,” she replied with no trace of humor. “It’s my job to find out how you are doing. Remember?”

“I know how to take care of myself. Been doing it for thirty-two years. Remember how everyone says I’ve been alive for so long? I’m more than capable of knowing what I need.” My tone was abrupt, but I couldn’t find it in me to care. I was so sick of everyone insinuating my impending doom.

“Why are you fighting me on this?” she asked, clearly exasperated with me, her green eyes ablaze. “Don’t you want to keep playing hockey?”

“Of course I want to keep playing hockey,” I said, throwing my arms out to the sides. “You and everyone else are telling me I can’t. That I’m some fragile creature who’s going to break any second out on the ice.”

She crossed her arms. “That’s not what we’re saying.” She was talking to me like I was a child. Funny that I was too old to play hockey but young enough for her to talk down to me.

“Really?” I challenged. “Because it sure sounds like it.”

I was beyond grumpy tonight, and I pushed away the feelings of guilt about it. I was usually the fun, easy-going guy, but the last month I had been anything but. I was just so angry, and tonight wasn’t helping matters. In truth, I hadn’t felt like myself since moving here.

“We’re trying to help you,” she reiterated. “If you would just let me do my job, you might be able to see that I know what I’m talking about.”

Whatever. I’d go through the motions, literally, and prove to everyone that I still had what it took, that I still belonged here.

“Fine.” My voice was low, but I could still hear the frustration in it.

“Now, lay back and we’ll start working on your knees first,” she ordered.

I reluctantly obeyed her. She lifted my leg, so that it was bent and began feeling around my knee. I tried not to stare at her while she worked, but my eyes wanted to drink her in. She wore fitted maroon scrubs, and her hair was in its usual ponytail.

She and I hadn’t made any improvements with our interactions, but that didn’t seem to matter when it came to my attraction to her. I struggled not to stare at her, and I’d thought about asking one of her assistants to do my physical therapy sessions instead. The only reason I hadn’t said anything yet was because I could tell she was really good at her job. As much as I didn’t want to own up to it, I did feel better after our sessions.

“Piper,” an annoyingly familiar voice interrupted.

I glanced over at the doorway, hoping I wouldn’t see who I knew it was.

Piper’s hands froze on my knee, her eyelids blinking rapidly. “What are you doing here?”

What was he doing here?

Jordan stood there, his dark hair damp from the shower, wearing jeans and a Blue Jays hoodie. “C’mon, Pipes,” he said. “I couldn’t not come see you.”

Pipes ? What kind of nickname was that? And why was he calling her by a nickname?

I looked between Piper and Jordan, trying to figure out what was going on.

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t,” she said brusquely, returning her attention to my knee.

Jordan held up his hands in surrender as if approaching a skittish cat. “I just want to talk.”

Her eyes narrowed on him. “Don’t you have some puck bunnies to go hang out with? It is an away game, after all.”

My eyes widened at her accusing tone.

No way. No way . Piper and Jordan? She had dated this pathetic loser?

“There are no more puck bunnies,” he said, his eyes pleading with her to believe him. “I made a mistake, and I hate myself for it.”

Piper didn’t seem affected by his words in the slightest. “Mistakes. Plural.”

He had the decency to look chagrined, a look I’d never seen on him before. “Right. Mistakes.” He nodded in agreement. “Please, Piper. Just give me a few minutes.”

Her lips pursed. “Unfortunately, I gave you a couple years, and I regret it. So, no thanks.”

Pieces of the Piper puzzle began to fall into place. So this was why she didn’t like hockey players. She’d dated one, and he’d cheated on her.

Not all hockey players were losers and cheats. She must have not been over him to have such a blanket feeling about all hockey players. What she’d seen in Jordan, I couldn’t fathom.

Jordan’s fists clenched, but he looked to be trying to reign in his annoyance. “Fine. You need more time. I can give that to you.”

Piper rolled her eyes. “How generous of you.” She gave him a dismissive wave. “Now, if you will please leave, I’m working.”

Jordan let out a short burst of laughter. “On him? He’s a lost cause.” He eyed me like I was dirt on his shoe. “How was being a duster, Lawson?” he asked with a smug smile, referring to me sitting on the bench. “Mark my words—you’re going to be there all season.”

Piper’s hand on my leg gripped tighter, her nails digging into me. “Get out,” she demanded through clenched teeth. “Or I’ll have security escort you out.”

“Calm down, Pipes,” he placated. “I’ll leave. But I’m not going to stop trying to get you back. We belong together. You and I both know that.”

A shudder went through Piper’s body, but she held her chin high as he walked out of the room.

We stayed still as the silence surrounded us. I had learned a lot about Piper in only a few minutes, and I wasn’t sure how she was going to feel about that.

Guessed there was only one way to find out.

I lifted myself up on my elbows, giving her my best smirk. “So I’m guessing he’s the reason you hate hockey players.”

Her body relaxed, and she looked to be fighting a smile. She playfully pushed me down so my back was against the table again. “You don’t help.”

“Me?” I asked innocently. “What have I done?”

“The first day we met, you came in here all cocky and flirty, like I was so lucky to be in your presence,” she said.

Most women liked that, but I had quickly learned Piper wasn’t one of them.

“Then you did a complete one-eighty and got all surly and broody on me,” she continued. “And now you spend our sessions all angsty, throwing a fit that you have to be here. You tell me if you would like hockey players.”

She made a good point, but I wasn’t going to tell her that.

“What if we start over?” I asked, genuinely wanting to have a fresh start with her. She’d obviously been through a lot with Jordan, and I didn’t want his bad reputation tainting what she thought of me. I wasn’t sure why I cared so much, but I didn’t like the idea of her hating me all season long.

She looked at me for a few seconds before answering, like she was weighing the pros and cons. “We can start over if you’ll agree to follow my regimen and accept that I’m trying to help you.”

“Deal.” I stuck out my hand for us to shake on it.

“Deal.” She grasped my hand, and although she’d had her hand on me moments before, this felt different.

A buzz of electricity flowed through my hand and up my arm. Our eyes connected, and I wondered if she felt it too.

As if she could tell what I was thinking, she dropped my hand like it was on fire, averting her gaze. “Okay, Mr. Lawson, let’s get back to your session.”

My brow rose. “Mr. Lawson? If we’re going to be spending so much time together, I think it makes sense for you to call me what all my friends do.”

She looked at me warily. “And what’s that?”

My lips spread into a wide grin. “The Zeke Man.”

My answer must have caught her off-guard, because she pulled her lips in to stifle her smile. It eventually snuck out, and it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

I had a feeling I’d be doing whatever I could to see that smile again and again.