Page 109 of Heartbreak Hockey

He nods, swallowing my aching cock and it’s the last of my coherence for a while.

Chapter22

Set the Ice on Fire

JACK

My first game with Vancouver is like my first hockey game ever. I have so many damn nerves, I almost puke on Dad. The nerves aren’t because I don’t want it. I want it so bad.

“You’re going to be okay, honey,” he said to me before I left for the arena. “You’ve done this a thousand times. Just play hockey, okay? And breathe.”

I get a text from Merc that says, “Give ‘em hell tonight, baby. Play a good game and I’ll let you fuck me over the counter.”

Cue massive eye roll. As if he could ever give up that much control, which is what I adore about him. The sentiment is nice though. “Miss you, Merc. You not being here is now an official crime and I’m gonna need several consolation blow jobs.”

I sent that to him with the satisfaction of knowing he’d think of said blow jobs and it would get him uncomfortably hard while he coached our team in Winnipeg.

Despite everything I play well, getting to see more ice time than most of us that get pulled up do because of all the injuries and I even score a goal. How can they not draft me after that?

Thinking about my family in a box suite with the Meyers entertained me between periods.

Playing NHL hockey is fast and hard though, holy fuck. But I love it. The challenge. The excitement. I don’t mean to get my hopes up, but of course, my mind jumps to me playing with this team next season. I can smell it. I can feel it. I can fucking breathe it. I’m meant to be playing at this level.

Merc brings the team with him for the second game and my parents join them. I score another goal, see an amount of ice time that some rookies never see, and even though we lose, the coach has good things to say to me and I’m thinking this could actually happen.

Mercy lets us party at the Roxy and then takes me back to his place to fuck me into oblivion. It’s the perfect night.

Tonight is my final game of three with Vancouver and not gonna lie, I’m hoping I get some kind of hint as to whether they’re considering me for next season. I’m suiting up with the team who’s taken me in as their own. They seem to like me. They give me pointers. They like my jokes.

Nerves still ferment in my belly but they’re good ones. I’m anxious to feel the chill coming off the ice against my cheeks. Hell, even being pounded into the boards will feel good. My heart races with anticipation.

“Hey, Leslie, stay behind a sec,” Coach says just before we’re all about to file onto the ice.

I think that this is it, the moment he’s gonna tell me how much he hopes I’ll be part of the team next year, but as soon as I see the look on his face, my gut sinks. He’s not gonna say that.

“Hey, real sorry about this. Someone was supposed to get in touch with you. We don’t need you tonight. You can go.”

My heart freezes before it beats again. I don’t even get to play tonight? Fuck. I don’t want to cry in front of this guy, and it takes everything in me not to. “Yes, sir.” They’re the only two words I can say without breaking down. Did someone just rip the soul from my chest? Feels that way.

“You were amazing, kid. Thanks for being part of the team.” He pats me on the shoulder.

I sink onto the bench not sure what to do with myself. I know these are the hockey breaks. The other side of hockey—who plays and who doesn’t—is just as hard and fast as the game itself. I’ve seen many guys in a similar position collapse with utter devastation and I promised myself that wouldn’t be me. That I’d roll with the hits.

This blow is a lot harder than I could have imagined.

I want to throw my stick. Punch something. Break something. I settle for dropping my stick where it lands, along with my mitts, and pulling my phone out of my bag. Merc couldn’t be at this game because the team had to head to Boston, but he should be in his hotel room by now.

I can barely speak. “Merc?” My lip wobbles. I’m gonna cry right in this locker room, aren’t I?

“Jack?”

I try to say words, but nothing forms into anything that makes sense. Mercy figures out my nonsense.

“What the fuck? Those games were yours, baby. Who the … what the … this is fucking bullshit!”

He proceeds to do what I wanted to do and pulverizes things. That’s what it sounds like at least. There are lots of crashing and breaking noises. Despite it all, it makes me smile. “You’re gonna get kicked outta there, Merc.”

“Don’t fucking care. Arrgh. I should be with you right now. Can you get on a plane tonight?”