Page 26

26

TOP SHELF

AIDAN

T hese early morning practices are killing me.

They’re nothing new. Hockey is a sport filled with a lot of early mornings and late, late nights. But I’m not usually also a current reigning member of the city’s dark underworld during the height of the pre-season.

My work with the family over the last few weeks since Dad’s death has really been taking it out of me.Both jobs require my full focus and in trying to do both, I can’t help but feel like I’m coming up short—on both sides.

Colt cuts down the ice at a blazing speed, flying past our offensive line as if they’re standing still. I clock Liam to my right, ready to engage should Colt go his way.

But I know he’s coming to me.

King attempts to fake me out. His eyes read right and so do his shoulders—for a moment. But at the last second, he dekes past Liam, surging toward the goal from the left. But I read him like an open book back on the blue line and knock the puck away from him with a simple poke check.

He doesn’t expect it, and sails past me, leaving the ice wide open. Picking up the puck Colt lost, I fly for the opposite end. The opposing team is in the middle of a line change and so I only have to stick handle past two of them in order to sink the puck top shelf into the left corner.

West, our starting goalie, shakes his head at me before reaching out to give me a fist bump as I circle their net. “Respect.”

“You’re still a brick wall Cavanaugh; that one just slipped through.” I tease him with a little wink and a smile on my face.

Coach blows his whistle, and everyone heads for the bench, circling up on the ice.

James McIntyre. One of the best coaches in hockey right now. Tough but fair, difficult to read because he hardly ever shows emotion. Personally, I prefer his level head to a coach who blows his top after every goal against or player mistake. McIntyre’s cool gaze trails over the lot of us. His silence builds anticipation before his gaze finally settles on Colt.

“What the fuck was that, King? You make that mistake in a game and you’ll find yourself benched for the rest of it.” He frowns before giving a disappointed shake of his head. “Cocky and arrogant. O’Rourke had your number from a mile away. Anticipate that.”Then he turns to me. “Nice goal, O’Rourke. Let’s see more of those.”

“Yes, sir.” I grin, letting it widen when I catch Colt glaring at me. I raise my water bottle to him in a fake “cheers” before pouring the rest of it over my sweaty face.

Hockey is a dog eat dog world. But it’s important we have trust within our team. Since the Breakers are a new team, we’ve yet to establish any. This year’s Breakers are far from it.

For whatever reason, Colt King decided he hated me day one. And Reid Kincaid and Colt go way back. My relationship with two of the major players on the first line offense has been frosty at best. With only a few short weeks remaining until our season opener, we have yet to work out our shit and it shows.

Still. I’ve been nothing short of civil to the guy. It’s Colt and Reid with the problem. A problem they need to work the fuck out.

Coach talks for a few minutes more about a few upcoming pre-season games and events before releasing us for the day. I take a turn for the locker rooms, but I stop when I hear my name called out.

“O’Rourke, hang back a second, eh?” McIntyre’s thick Canadian accent showing.

He waits while the rest of the team clears out. Liam gives me a side glance before disappearing down the tunnel to the locker rooms. I shift restlessly on my skates. I’d left little Kostalova asleep in my bed this morning and need to get back to the loft to figure out what the fuck to do with her.

“Today was better, but I still get the sense you’re distracted…” Coach’s eyes narrow on me like he’s trying to read my mind to find out exactly where the block is.

I try to refocus my attention on my coach. Me? distracted? Nah… Couldn’t have anything to do with the fact I woke up this morning curled around a little Russian angel, nose buried in long, golden hair. I can still smell that heavenly scent. A mixture of vanilla and cinnamon from the bath, mixed with something else… something purely divine and innately Rory.

“Sorry Coach, I’ll have my shit together before the Falcons game,” I promise him. Our first pre-season opener is against our bitter rivals, the New York Falcons.

“See that you do, O’Rourke.” He pauses, studying me with an unreadable expression on his face. “I know the recent loss of your father has been hard on you and your—family.” I do my best to keep my expression blank. Coach is well aware of my roots, but seeing as how both Liam and I have stayed out of the family business the past few years, it’s hardly been an issue.

“Don’t let yourself get distracted from what matters. This season’s make or break for you… My recommendation only goes so far.”

It’s a contract year and I’m on the chopping block. Some of it is warranted, but most of it’s not. The team owners don’t like me. I know Coach has my back but like he said— his recommendation only goes so far.

“I need you focused, Aidan. No distractions.” His hazel eyes flash with a warning.

I give him a stiff nod to let him know I’ve heard him. Everything I’ve ever wanted is almost within my grasp. A contract with the Breakers keeps me in the city for the next few years. It’s all I want.

I need this business with the family wrapped up so I can get back to the life I’ve worked so hard to carve out for myself. I’d chosen hockey over the mob a long time ago, and my family supported my decision. My father supported my decision. Claimed Liam and I had a gift and it would be a “damn shame” if we let it go to waste.

“No distractions,” I repeat, reminding myself as much as affirming my coach.

A certain Russian princess flashes into my brain as I speak.

Now, more than ever, the little angel needed to go .