Page 25 of For Puck’s Sake (Seattle Vipers #2)

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(Ten Months Later)

“ I t’s good to be home Seattle. Goodnight!”

The stage goes dark as I hit the final chord of the encore.

Bessie leaves behind a lingering note in the air as the crowd erupts in a deafening roar.

On nights like this, I might signal to the Lighting Tech to drop a spotlight and give them one more, but not tonight.

No, tonight is too important, and as promised all those months ago, I’m showing up for my man.

I have one more show in Seattle tomorrow, the final stop on this tour, so I’ll make it up to them then.

This is it though, I’ve come full circle.

I started in Lark Bay ten months ago and I’m ending my tour in Seattle, where it all began.

It all worked out perfectly, with the Vipers playing at home at the same time, facing Toronto again, one win away from the Stanley Cup.

Talk about déjà vu.

A year ago, I was singing the National Anthem to the same two teams, same cup final, thinking then it would possibly be the last time I set foot in an arena.

I thought I was leaving that part of my past behind.

I had no idea the universe had other plans in store for me.

Now, as hilarious as it may sound, I’m about to do my best rendition of Kevin McCallister’s family running through the airport trying to make their flight in the movie Home Alone .

Okay, so I don’t need to catch a flight, but trying to fight concert traffic to get to the other side of Seattle in time to catch the third period will be a feat in itself.

Turning, I follow the glow in the dark arrows Dean taped down for me earlier and jog off stage as safely as I can.

I’m so used to the journey, I don’t actually need direction, the set up is so familiar I can exit the stage with my eyes closed.

But routine is routine.

This has been my life, venue to venue, night after night, and I’ve lived for every performance, every chord played.

It’s been an experience I will never forget.

Yes, there were growing pains, I’ve learned a lot about what I want and don’t want on the road, and in my life in general.

I love touring but it won’t be something I do often, I prefer smaller venues and a more intimate crowd, but I learned I don’t mind someone picking out my clothes for me as long as they understand what I am comfortable wearing.

Let’s just say Mr.

Damien Greer and I had a long talk and renegotiated my contract under the strict guidance of my lawyers.

I doubt he will try to manipulate me ever again; he will probably hate to see me coming from now on, but as long as I make the label money, I will continue to press for my best interests.

What I know for sure, is through it all, Ridley and I are endgame.

I can’t do this without him.

The countless phone calls, texts, Facetiming in the middle of the night, both of us exhausted, but we did it, together.

Some days I longed for him so much, the loneliness was unbearable, but then he would surprise me, showing up to spend twenty-four hours in whatever city I was in, when he should have been resting between games.

He made the effort and the sacrifice—I, of course, did the same.

Thus began months of bouncing back and forth between the two of us.

When I had rest days, I would go to him and vice versa.

Thanksgiving in Vancouver with Ridley, Christmas with me in Miami, and Valentine’s Day spent in Dallas where we just so happened to be in the same city, finally.

It was difficult, and most days I had two grumpy bodyguards who probably wanted to strangle me for the strategic nightmare I placed at their feet.

But they never complained, well not to my face at least, but they both got me to and from locations without a hitch every time.

“Bessie,”

Dean calls out with a bite light in his mouth, hands outstretched as I seamlessly hand off my most prized possession to him.

The crowd is still cheering, wishing for more, but the stage crew is already moving around me to reset the stage for tomorrow night.

He nods and disappears into the dark with the rest of the crew to manage the reset.

Things between us are better, dare I say, we are even back to where we were before we took our relationship to a place we shouldn’t have.

Dean is hands-on and takes his job seriously, strictly professional, and so in love with Charlie it’s sickening.

Yep, I called it, he hooked her with those damn dimples, and I am happy for them both.

I even have him come on stage to play with me some nights.

The crowd loves him, and I have no doubt Damien is looking at him with dollar signs in his eyes.

Whatever happens, though, despite the hiccups of last summer, I will support him, because he supported me. Full circle.

“Thank you,” I say.

I speed walk to my dressing room.

A petite woman dressed in black, light brown skin, with a black sky high mohawk with blonde tips claps enthusiastically to hurry me along.

Destani immediately gets to work as she helps me get out of my show clothes.

She’s been my personal dresser/wardrobe goddess since the beginning of the tour, and we’ve become close friends.

She smiles, hazel eyes missing nothing as she redresses me in a matter of minutes.

A pair of black leggings, black high-top Converse, and a white Vipers jersey, Masters, number twenty-five on the back.

“The score is two to four, Vipers are up by two points so far in the second period.”

She gives me a quick rundown as she tosses my locs in a high ponytail, slides my satchel over my head, and ushers me out the door so fast, my heads spins.

“Destani, you’re a treasure!”

I shout behind me as Travis falls in step beside me, his black suit making him blend in like a chameleon against the black brick walls to lead me through the maze that is backstage.

“That’s why they pay me the big bucks,”

she replies back. “I hope you make it in time, and good luck, Brea.”

By the time we make it to the shiny black town car outside the stage door, I’m huffing and puffing from the pace Travis set for the both of us. Jasper holds the door open for me and I slide into the back seat with breathless thanks.

Travis chuckles from the front passenger seat as I grumble about his legs being longer than mine and how he loves to torture me.

“Hey, you made your desire to get to Ridley known and we said we would make the impossible, possible. So, get ready to run for your life. Buckle up buttercup.”

He looks back over his shoulder, hands up in surrender and winks. I can’t complain because he is right. I told Ridley I would make it, and damn it, I’m going to try. Tonight is important. Tonight means everything.

As if on cue, Jasper hands me a bottle of water, agreeing with Travis without a word, then he turns around, starts the car and we’re off.

“Bailey’s in possession of the puck as he makes his way down the ice.

Toronto’s defenseman is intercepted by the bruiser himself, Devan Scott.

The Vipers’ enforcer shows him no mercy as he collides with the D-man to clear the way for Bailey.

Seattle fans are on their feet cheering on their captain as he makes his way toward Toronto’s rookie goalie, Derrick Shaw.

He’s had a tremendous season so far, snatching the number one spot from Toronto’s veteran goalie, Stockman.

Unfortunately, Seattle has put him under a lot of pressure during this last round and one begs to argue if he was ready.

Shaw drops low, watching the puck as Bailey finds himself surrounded.

Spinning, Bailey finds an opening, he shoots the puck between the legs of Toronto’s forward, Jace Argyle. The puck passes to Maxwell, who quickly passes it to Masters.”

“Come on baby,”

I say, pumping the air, my fist clenched, as the hockey analyst gives a play by play of everything happening on the ice. My stomach’s in knots, the nerves of getting there in time making me feel nauseous as we weave through traffic.

“Oh, Toronto is taking no prisoners tonight! Masters is forced to pass the puck to Javier Gossman who— Gossman twists to avoid a two-man collision! He spins and takes the shot. Goal! Gossman scores! Seattle leads five to two.”

“Yes!”

I shout, reaching for the two front seats in front of me and shaking them like a crazy woman. Travis and Jasper both roll their eyes, but I know they are secretly loving it. They’re listening too, they just won’t admit it. Neither of them were hockey fans when this began, but they’ve had to listen to so many highlights and live streams I brought them over to the dark side.

“For those of you listening at home. The goal is being reviewed. The refs have surrounded Shaw, he hasn’t gotten up. It all happened so fast. Shaw’s not moving. The mood in the arena has shifted as the crowd turns their attention to the downed rookie goalie. If you look at the replay, it seems the puck hit Shaw, a direct hit to his helmet, knocking him completely off his feet. We all know how fast these pucks fly through the air, and a hit like that can cause major damage.”

“Shit,”

I say, clinging to the seats in front of me, like it will somehow get us there faster. I didn’t get to know Derrick as well as I would have liked, he brought me my lunch the one time last summer, and came to a few shows at Reds, but that was the extent of our interaction. But I have heard Ridley give Bast shit for months about whatever is going on between the two of them.

“We’re almost there, Brea,”

Jasper says as we maneuver through the streets toward the arena.

“All play has ceased as the medics assess Shaw. He’s still unresponsive and concern for the rookie is growing as his teammates and even some of the Vipers rally around him. Bergeron left his crease, skating across the ice, followed by Masters and Bailey. According to social media, the three of them befriended the rookie last summer. Bergeron drops to his knees beside the refs and medic, but his teammates have to hold him back so he doesn’t touch him. He’s clearly shaken up. This is the last thing you’d expect to happen during a Stanley Cup final. We can only hope this injury won’t cause him irreparable damage. It looks like Shaw is out. Toronto will have Stockman finish off the rest of the game as soon as play resumes.”

The car stops near the door of the players’ entrance at the arena.

Travis opens the door.

I check my satchel for what I need later and throw it over my shoulder.

I jump out of the car and start running.

There’s an urgency in each step I take, my need to set my eyes on Ridley, to make sure Derrick is okay, Tor, Bast, Lia, and Alexis, my family.

I need reassurance.

In such a short time, they’ve all become an integral part of my life.

To think I wanted to do all this alone. I was na?ve, and I am glad I moved out of my own way and allowed room in my heart for the abundance of love I’ve received.

The security guard sees me coming and allows me entry, having already been alerted to my late arrival tonight.

I can hear Travis and Jasper running behind me, both warning me to slow down, but I keep moving.

Thank goodness for flat, comfy, trainers.

They both reach me as the doors that lead to the ice fly open and paramedics rush by with an unconscious Derrick strapped to the gurney.

Jasper gently pushes me against the wall to make room.

I have a brief glance at Derrick.

My heart lurches at the sight of blood running down his face from underneath his dented helmet, and the sight brings tears to my eyes.

I can only hope and pray that he will be okay.

Wiping away a stray tear, I look up in time to see the doors they came through close slowly, and I catch a quick glimpse of a very distraught Bast as he watches them take Derrick away.

By the time I make it down to the seats, relief washes over me as I’m greeted by a very pregnant Alexis and an equally pregnant Lia. I can’t help a smile on my face as they both wear matching Vipers jerseys. Alexis’s has Baby Bailey on the front, while Lia says Baby Scott. Yeah, Lia and Devan, not my story to tell, but it was a surprise to everyone, except Ridley apparently, well, the relationship anyway, the baby, well . . .

“You made it!”

Alexis squeals in excitement, arms stretched wide as she crushes me in a hug. I’m careful of her baby bump as I hug her back. She’s glowing, with a gorgeous wide smile on her face, Alexis is all warmth and love personified.

“Barely,”

I manage to say to Alexis as Lia falls into my embrace next, holding me tight. She’s always had a special place in my heart, she’s the sister I never had. I know this pregnancy was unplanned, taking both her and Devan by surprise, but I know everything will be okay.

I thought seeing the two in various stages of pregnancy would be triggering for me, but I am genuinely happy for the both of them. I will never forget my loss, it sits heavy on my heart, but I’ve taken comfort in the fact that my time will come again. Ridley and I will be parents eventually, I’m sure of it. If it’s meant to be and I am blessed to carry my own child to term, then I will be grateful. If not, then there’s more than one way to have a child. Whatever happens, we’ll explore those options together.

The rest of the game, though exciting, is more subdued. I lock eyes with Ridley a few times during the third period, pure happiness on his face from me being here means everything. My nerves for what I’m about to do has my heart beating triple time but the moment feels right.

Bast lets through two goals as Toronto attempts to tie up the game, but Tor manages to score once more before the final buzzer sounds. The Vipers win the Stanley Cup six to four. Horns blare, confetti rains down on the screaming fans and the players down below. Tor circles the arena with the cup held high over his head, stopping to bow to Alexis, before he passes the cup to Ridley. I watch him make his circuit around the ice, eyes blurry with tears of joy and pride. Wiping them furiously, I reach into my satchel and pull out the folded fabric Destani painstakingly made for me during the concert tonight. I swallow as I unfold it slowly. I have to say, I’m more than impressed that she was able to press it down enough so that it fit.

He looks up, eyes finding mine easily, and I repeat the same gesture he’d given me all those months ago. With my hand over my heart, tears falling down my face, I mouth, “I love you.”

Shaking out the fabric, I hold it up for him to see, ignoring the gasps and shouts from fans as the world takes in my grand gesture at the same time he does. Ridley’s skating comes to a halt as he reads my message: Ridley Masters, will you marry me?

When he throws off his helmet, he gives me a thumbs up. I can see him mouth the word, “Yes!”

The noise is so loud in the arena, his thumbs are all the confirmation I need.

Stanley Cup? What Stanley Cup? He said yes.

RIDLEY

(Two weeks later)

Brea’s asleep in the passenger seat, face pressed comically against the window, mouth slightly parted.

A little trickle of drool slides down the corner of her lip, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to hold in my laughter.

I love this woman, like this she’s the most beautiful being I’ve ever seen.

Carefree and relaxed, vulnerable.

I’m the luckiest man in the world, the only man in the world to see her this way. I get to watch her drool for the rest of our lives. I’m still riding the high of her proposal. It was unconventional, but that’s my girl.

My Angel is exhausted.

She’s been going nonstop since the last day of her tour in Seattle.

With the renegotiation of her contract she’s been in Los Angeles making plans to remain home in Seattle for the foreseeable future recording her next album.

When she’s ready, she will do some touring, but only at smaller venues.

We won’t be apart like we were the last ten months, but even if we were, it wouldn’t matter.

We would make it work, but I’m glad we don’t have to.

Brea is living her dream, and she is living it her way, on her terms. She has her music, I have hockey, but most importantly, we have each other.

She arrived back from Los Angeles yesterday and I only allowed her a few hours of sleep before I had a spark of inspiration.

I packed our bags and convinced her to take a drive with me.

I channeled my parents, memories of early morning car rides through sleepy eyes, only to wake up in a whole new world.

The feeling of spontaneity, the thrill of adventure, I want this for us, always.

We’re on a road to nowhere, the destination unknown, no obligations, other than each other.

I’ve been driving for hours now.

We watched the sunrise in Seattle this morning and now we are heading toward Montana, with a view of majestic mountains to watch the sunset.

With hockey camp in Lark Bay starting soon, I have two weeks of nothing but the open road and my girl to look forward to until then.

I’m going to cherish every minute of it.

I chance another glance at Brea to find her sleepy brown eyes gazing back at me.

She blinks, then rewards me with a smile.

God, there is no need to pinch myself, this is real, she is mine once more.

Almost a year later I can’t believe we are here. But her smile, I can get lost in that smile, in her, for hours, and I plan on doing just that.

“There’s my beautiful Angel. Welcome back,”

I say, turning my attention back to the road.

Straightening in the seat, she looks around at the lush green landscape on either side of the highway, the tall pine trees, the fields of wildflowers, and the red mountains beyond.

I can’t see her face, but I’m sure her brows are furrowed in confusion as she tries to guess where we are.

I picked a location at random.

I have a general idea of where we are after hours of reading road signs, but I’m flying blind, and I love it.

“Where are we, Rid?”

she asks as she finally wipes drool from the corner of her mouth with the back of the hand. I catch her grimace out of my periphery. She pauses, looks at me, then frowns, and I can’t help it, I laugh.

“You watched me drooling and you didn’t wake me.”

She pouts, swatting my arm with her hand playfully. “Ridley Masters, you’re impossible.”

She crosses her arms over her chest in a huff and I want nothing more than to pull her into my lap and kiss those downturned lips.

“But you love me, though,”

I tease. Unable to help myself, I check the cars driving behind and in front of us. This long stretch of road has minimal traffic and we are the only ones in this area, so I take a chance.

“Come here, Angel,”

I say, crooking my finger in her direction. Brea’s frown turns into a slow salacious smile as she catches on to what I’m asking her to do. She looks around, just as I had done, making sure the coast is clear, then unbuckles her seatbelt, climbs to her knees and leans over the center console.

“You want a kiss, baby,”

she purrs into my ear, her voice low and seductive, the sound sends delicious shivers down my spine, goosebumps pepper my skin, as all my blood travels south. Brea traces the side of my face with her nose, skimming my jaw line until she reaches the corner of my mouth.

I groan, shifting uncomfortably in my seat, wanting, no, aching for her lips to claim mine. “You know what I want, Angel,”

I plead, because I’m not afraid to beg. I keep my eyes on the road, trying like hell not to shift my focus and take what I want.

“I don’t know,”

she teases back. “Do you want me to kiss you here?”

she asks, placing a soft barely there kiss to my lips, before pulling away. I groan again in frustration, loving and hating this game we find ourselves playing.

Brea shifts, her brown eyes hold mine for a brief moment before she lowers her hand and cups my painfully hard erection through my athletic shorts. She palms my dick, rubbing my length in long, gentle strokes.

“Fuck, Brea, Luna, baby, you’re not playing fair.”

I pant, trying to stay focused on the road in front of me.

“Oh, you want me to kiss you here?”

she asks with mischief dripping from each word. Lowering the waistband of my shorts, Brea sighs as she unveils my rock-hard dick. Leaning down she licks the bead of precum from the tip. I moan, eyes closing briefly as the pleasure of her warm mouth consumes me.

The car swerves and I curse under my breath. “Fuck. Brea, Angel, this—holy shit—”

I fumble my words as she takes my entire length into her mouth, throat constricting around me, leaving me panting. “Not, safe. Oh, God.”

Brea hums in reply, the vibration nearly killing us both as my eyes roll back in my head. The car swerves left, then right as I struggle to maintain control.

“Brea,”

I warn, not wanting her to stop, but needing us to survive this at the same time.

Brea releases my dick with a sloppy wet pop and chuckles. Gazing down into my lap, Brea’s lust filled eyes, flushed cheeks, and lush swollen lips shatter my resolve. I need her, now. “I think you need to pull over, Mr. Masters,”

she says as she resumes her torture, swallowing me without warning.

“Jesus,”

I breathe, as I search frantically for a safe place to pull over.

I know we are driving through a National Park area, around the borders of Idaho and Montana and there are several close by.

I almost cry out in relief as I spot a nature trail access road up ahead.

Taking the quick exit off the highway, the SUV glides down the dirt road with ease.

When I eventually stop the car, I’ve both cursed and praised Brea’s deep throating expertise— I’m a breathless mess.

Reaching down, I cup her chin between my thumb and forefinger, pulling her off me with a groan. “Sit on my dick, Luna. I don’t want to cum in that delectable mouth of yours.”

I slam my lips to hers, devouring her mouth, tasting myself with every lick of my tongue.

The kiss is hungry and frantic as we both tear at each other’s clothes.

Our hands and legs are a tangled mess as I maneuver my seat back to give us room.

Lifting my hips, I push my joggers down further, the limited space is almost comical as I reach for Brea, not wanting us to be apart for a second longer.

Shimmying out of her cut-off jean shorts and panties until she’s naked from the waist down, I pull her onto my lap, until she straddles me.

Leaning down, her locs fall around us in a curtain as she takes control, kissing me slowly.

Languid, soft, and sensual, our tongues dance playfully, sucking and nipping, taking our time, lost in the moment.

My hands explore her smooth silky skin, my fingers slide underneath her tank top.

I trace the underside of her breasts, my thumbs brush over her taut nipples, making her whimper into my mouth.

We pause for only a moment as she pulls the top over her head, tossing it onto the passenger seat, leaving her in nothing but a purple lace bra.

I run my hands over her breasts, cupping and squeezing them both.

This woman, my woman, is everything.

“You’re beautiful, Luna.”

I don’t hide the awe and reverence in my voice.

I want her to know with every word, every touch, how much she is cherished and loved.

I let my hands roam, needing to touch every inch of her.

Cupping her ass, squeezing and kneading her flesh, I pull her closer.

“I need you,”

Brea mutters against my parted lips, our breaths mingle together as we both suck air into our oxygen-deprived lungs.

“You have me,”

I say as I slide my fingers up her arousal-soaked thighs, following the trail all the way up to her eager, wet pussy. I flick her clit with my thumb, watching her response. She moans, head tossed back.

“Ridley,”

she begs, the sound of my name, the pleading in her tone, only makes the delay much sweeter.

“Look at how wet you are for me, Luna. Did sucking my cock do this to you, Angel?”

I ask, already knowing her answer as I dip two fingers inside her, fucking her slowly.

“Yes, Ridley, yes!”

she replies as she rides my fingers. Oh no, Angel not like this. I pull my fingers out of her quickly, ignoring her cries of protest. Wrapping my hand around her waist, I lift my hips and slide her down on my aching dick inch by inch, both of us groaning in pleasure until she’s fully seated.

“Fuck, you feel good, Luna,”

I say, taking her mouth again as I began to rock into her. My thrusts are brutal, holding nothing back. Brea meets me stroke for stroke, rolling her hips, up and down, back and forth, moans and groans, skin slapping against skin. The windows fog, the SUV rocks, the sounds of our lovemaking echoes around us, and the smell of sex mixed with our combined scents is heady and overwhelming.

Taking her lace covered nipple into my mouth, I suck and bite the sensitive bud, switching back and forth between the two like a starving man. “Ridley! God! Oh, god!”

Brea cries, dropping her head on my shoulder, grinding down on my dick.

“Such a good girl, Angel. Take what you need, use me,”

I praise her as I lick her sweat drenched skin with my tongue, groaning from the sweet taste. Reaching down, I find her clit, circling it with my thumb as I pick up the pace, pounding into her.

“Ridley!”

she shouts. “I’m gonna. . . I’m gonna cum, baby”

“Cum for me, Angel. Cum all over my dick, drench me in your essence, baby,”

I croon, pinching her clit between my fingers. “Cum, now!”

Brea screams, biting down on my shoulder as she cums, back arching, body trembling, she sobs as I continue to work her clit. Tingles shoot up and down my spine and I know I’m not far behind her as I thrust once, twice, three times, crying out her name as I spill inside her.

“I love you,”

Brea says, whispering in the now quiet car.

Kissing the top of her head, I whisper back, “I love you more.”

Once back on the road, we continue our drive, climbing higher up the mountains.

Coldplay plays on the radio, and I do my best Chris Martin impression, making Brea laugh with every poorly delivered note I sing.

We drive, her hand in mine, stopping to admire the views, taking photos, making memories.

We drive, going nowhere in particular, getting lost as the miles stretch out ahead of us.

No destination needed, my home, my moon, my true north, my future, sits right beside me in the passenger seat. Life can’t get any better than this, for puck’s sake.

THE END