Page 4

Parrish Locksby

This girl had the most beautiful violet eyes I’d ever seen. I’d never thought that was a real eye color, but hers were genuinely a gorgeous dark violet shade. This close, I could tell she didn’t wear contacts. The violet was natural.

But her eyes were wide with shock, the perfect bow of her rosy lips slightly parted while she stared at me, the great big oaf who’d tackled her.

And I felt her gaze deep inside me, so deep it was as if she could see clear into my soul while she gaped up at me like a deer in a freight train’s headlights, stunned and unmoving.

Meanwhile, I registered every curve of her tiny body beneath me, and though I should move, I just couldn’t.

I didn’t. Not yet. Not until I’d saved the sensation into my memory banks.

“I…ah… The grass is a little wet,” she murmured finally.

“Shit. Sorry.” Damn it, what was I doing?

I jerked to my feet and reached down, offering her my hand so I could haul her upright.

A sizzle burned through me when she placed her small, cool hand in my much larger one.

I pulled her to her feet, and she stumbled into me, her palms slapping into my abs.

My dick twitched in reaction. I wanted to feel those splayed fingers on my bare skin, and I wanted to keep her right here against me for as long as I could. She had me transfixed. Until that moment, nothing but hockey had ever done that to me.

Despite my baser instincts, I grasped her shoulders and braced her half an arm’s length from me until she was steady, fighting back my arousal at the fingers still curled against my abs.

“Okay?” I asked quietly.

“Yeah.” She yanked back her hands, as if suddenly realizing she was touching me. “Uh, thanks.”

“Don’t thank me. I’m the asshole who slammed into you and landed us in a ditch. I’m Parrish, by the way.”

The tip of her little pink tongue dabbed across her lower lip. She nodded, and her teeth sank into that same flesh she’d just moistened. Those violet eyes, so full of intelligence, flashed with humor, though she didn’t speak.

Christ, she probably already knew exactly who I was. Most people around campus did.

“And you are?” I asked, hoping to barge past her apparent shyness.

“Uh…”

I raised a brow at her. She had to think about her name? Had she hit her head when we’d fallen? Did I need to take her to the campus clinic.

“Avalon,” she whispered. “I’m Avalon. I…uh… I have to…go. You got me all wet. I mean—” She broke off, her face going a fiery red while her words shot another burst of arousal to my dick.

Yeah, my brain went right to sex. Shit, I couldn’t wait to make her slick and wanting. And I would. In all my time here at Rustin, I’d never had such an immediate need.

Her hand waved beside us. “The grass. I meant the grass. It’s still wet from last night’s rain.”

“Right,” I breathed, not even trying to keep the husky growl from my voice. I knew nothing about Avalon, but I knew she’d be in my bed. As soon as I could manage it.

Still, I sensed I needed to give her a second to breathe.

Reaching down, I grabbed her backpack from where it had gone flying onto the ground near us.

Crouching, I gathered the books and notepads that had spilled from it, wincing at how damp they were, and tucked them inside, beside her laptop, which was thankfully inside a protective sleeve.

Her eyes quickly shifted to the side when I straightened, and she made a point of looking at the asphalt path where we’d collided. If possible, her face had grown redder.

Was she checking me out? That was a good sign.

Look all you want, babe.

“Here you go.” I thrust the bag toward her. “I’m sorry again for not paying attention. That’s not exactly how I like to tackle a girl.”

Her lips formed an O, her eyes going wide again. “I suppose not. I wouldn’t exactly be who you’d target, anyway, right? I mean…” She shook her head, already backing up the incline as fast as if the grass was on fire. “I… Bye!”

“Avalon—”

But she was already sprinting away as her statement settled in my brain, stunning me a second time.

What was that? What did she mean by that?

Jesus, I might be a jock, but I wasn’t the stereotypical type who tried to get into every girl’s pants.

Few of us at Rustin were—at least on the hockey team.

Did she think I was a player? Damn it. Without doubt, her assumption would make it more difficult for me to execute my plan to make her mine.

I was about to follow her when a flash of pink caught my eye. Glancing down, I noticed a cellphone in a sparkly case on the grass a few feet from where her other things had fallen.

Score!

A smirk curled my lips. Fate had devised a trajectory my beautiful Avalon couldn’t dodge. I scooped up the device, making my own plans. She’d have to see me to get this back. And I’d turn that meeting into a date. And that date would turn into many more.

I slipped her phone into my pocket, considering my options for getting in touch with her again.

Avalon… There couldn’t be many students at the university by that name. I’d be stunned if there was more than one, truthfully.

Pulling out my own phone, I brought up my email app to write to AV, the only female I could think of to ask. Most of the other women I knew were puck bunnies who’d rather flash me than help me find my girl.

— . — . —

From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: March 18, 2025 Subject: Do You Know?

Hey… This is a longshot, AV, but I figure since you’re a female you might know the person I’m looking for.

I just ran into this beautiful girl—I mean literally RAN INTO HER.

Tackled her even. She ran off before I could get more than her first name—which BTW is more than I’ve gotten from you.

But that’s a different problem. Anyway, do you know a girl named Avalon?

I don’t have her last name. But I DO have her phone. I need to find her so I can return it.

At the very least.

P

— . — . —

I stared at the message, which seemed desperate and lame, even to me, but I didn’t care that much.

AV214 and I were still anonymous. Until now, that had itched like an ill-fitting uniform, but now, I was thankful for it.

I could be borderline pitiful, and she wouldn’t know it was the captain of the university’s hockey team.

I just hoped my secret pen pal had some intel that could help me.

“You okay, man?”

I glanced up from where I’d been staring at my phone.

My teammate, my left winger, Porter George, stood on the paved path, peering down the incline at me.

With a dark eyebrow raised beneath his equally dark mop of hair, he eyed me curiously.

Yeah, I probably looked as if I’d taken a few too many hits to the head with a puck.

“Yeah, I’m good. Just sending an email.”

“Is this the new hot place to do that?” He nodded toward the grass and hugged his hoodie tighter around him. “If it doesn’t have good Wi-Fi, the trend probably won’t take off. And it’s cold as fuck out here.”

I blew out a scoffing breath. “This isn’t cold.”

Porter was a South Carolina boy, born and bred. He wouldn’t survive one winter up in Michigan where I’d been raised. He’d better hope he wasn’t picked up by the Red Wings. Or one of the Canadian teams, come to think of it. Or any northern team, for that matter.

“Says the guy who puts on cargo shorts as soon as the temps get above freezing,” he grumbled.

“I do not.”

“If that’s your story…” His eyes rolled. “But seriously… Why are you down there?”

“Stretching.” I joined him on the pavement, unwilling to explain that I’d tackled a woman then she’d taken off like a shot. The guys would make unending jokes about that.

“If that’s your story…” he repeated.

“It’s the only story you’re getting.”

He snorted.

“Fine. So how’d the interview go this morning?” he asked.

Side by side, we headed toward the student center at the middle of campus near the library and administrative offices. I’d been on my way to meet Porter there when I’d seen Grady, one of our other players, and running backward, yelled over to him about tomorrow’s weight training.

And slammed into my future.

“Eh. You know…” I shrugged. “Usual stuff. All the things we say without actually saying anything. The team’s great.

Frozen Four will be great. It’s been a privilege to play for Rustin, and I look forward to seeing how they do with next year’s up-and-coming players.

” I grimaced. “Everyone’s asking me about going pro, though.

They don’t care about the other shit. They just want to know why I didn’t sign with a team yet, drop out here then finished playing out the season as a pro.

I mean, yeah, signing early would have eliminated one of the required contract years before going free agent, but it’s not the route I wanted to take. ”

“Same.”

No, we weren’t really the same. I came from a strict, highly conservative family that expected me to fall on my face and never make anything of myself, including getting my degree.

Which made me more determined than ever to graduate.

Porter on the other hand came from a super wealthy background.

If he decided to never set foot on the ice again, his future was still set.

My future was not, and it was about more than just me.

I had to succeed. I had to, so I could support my three younger siblings after I rescued them from the cult-like life I’d managed to escape.

“Frankly, I still don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do,” he continued. “And I know, I know . I have to decide soon. Like yesterday.”

“Are you considering not going pro?” I asked in disbelief.

He stuck his tongue into the side of his cheek and glanced around.

“There are circumstances,” he finally said.

He didn’t have to explain. I knew he was gay, and he wasn’t sure how that would fly with the teams looking at him.

“Yeah…” I had circumstances, too, though mine were very different. “I understand c ircumstances . That’s a good way to put it.”