Page 2 of Second Chance with the Enemy CEO (Second Chance Hockey Players #1)

Chapter one

Hazel

A hideous, screeching sound fills my room, yanking me out of the warm cocoon of sleep. I groan, slapping at my nightstand until my hand lands on my phone. The awful tune keeps going, piercing my brain.

“Why, oh why, did I ever choose this song?” I grumble, rubbing my eyes as my finger hovers over the screen.

My inner voice, ever the morning bully, chimes in because it is the only thing loud enough to wake your deep-sleeping self, genius.

“I want to sleep,” I mutter, finally silencing the alarm. The blissful quiet that follows is enough to make me consider lying back down. I glance at the time: 6:30 a.m.

“Ugh.”

Dragging myself out of bed, I shuffle to the window and pull back the curtains.

The early morning sun greets me, casting a golden glow over the charming streets of Santa Malta.

From my small but cozy apartment, I can see the town stirring awake.

The ocean glimmers in the distance, and the sight is calming, like the universe is reminding me I have made it through another day.

For a moment, I stand there, soaking it in.

It has been five years since I left Autumn Cove, and not once have I regretted it.

There is nothing to miss - well, except my besties, but we always find a way to meet up.

The first year was rough, though. Some days, I wasn’t sure I would make it.

The first six months were a blur of tears, loneliness, and self-doubt.

But then I met Edna. Sweet, sweet Edna. May her soul rest in peace.

She took me in and helped me believe in myself again. Everything I am today; I owe to her.

Shaking off the melancholy threatening to creep in, I quickly make my bed - a habit drilled into me by Edna. "Always start your day with a well-made bed, which is a sign of a first victory," she would say.

After freshening up, I throw on my favorite black bell-cut trousers and a blue fitted chiffon shirt, the kind that makes me feel like I have my life together. A little mascara, some nude lipstick, and my rich auburn hair falls in soft waves over my shoulders, and I am good to go.

Grabbing my camera bag, I check it for my essentials: camera, spare lenses, memory cards, and battery packs. Everything is there. Perfect.

It is 7:10 a.m. when I slide into my car. The drive to the La’ Ramirez café, one of the coziest cafes overlooking the marina, where I am meeting my client, is quiet, and the roads clear for once. I hum along to the radio, feeling oddly optimistic about the day.

The meeting went longer than expected. For over two hours, I sat with Mr. and Mrs. Ramirez, hashing out details for their upcoming anniversary shoot.

They are sweet, the kind of couple that makes you believe in love again - if only for a moment.

By the time we finalize the details, it’s 10:24 am, and my stomach’s growling.

As I step into the parking lot, my phone buzzes. It is a message from Maria, my boss.

Hazel, come to the office, ASAP.

Well, so much for grabbing breakfast. I hop into my car, ready to see what is so urgent.

The drive to FocusLens Studios is short, but my mind is racing.

Did I forget to submit an invoice? Did I mix up a client schedule?

Whatever it is, it must be important if Maria’s summoning me when I am not even supposed to be in the office today and for her to add ‘ASAP’. Scary.

When I pull up outside the three-story building, I am greeted by George, the ever-cheerful doorman who’s become something of a father figure to everyone in the building.

“Good morning, Miss Hazel,” he says, tipping his hat with a grin.

“Morning, George! How are you doing? How’s Carmel? Her back okay?”

“I am good, and you know how she is, she is a superwoman. She is doing good.”

I smile at that. “That’s good… Oops, got to go…, talk to you later…,” I wave, offering a rushed smile, running towards the elevators, waving dramatically.

The doors are about to close when I yell, “hold the elevator!”

To my relief, a hand darts out, stopping the doors. I slip inside to find myself face-to-face with two of my friends: Nathaniel, also known as “Nate the Flirt King,” and Anna, my ever-stressed friend who is clutching two cups of coffee.

Nate’s leaning casually against the wall, flashing his trademark grin. “Hazel,” he says, his voice dripping with exaggerated charm. “You look radiant as always.”

I roll my eyes but smirk. “Save it, Nate. Not today.”

I point to the coffee in Anna’s hand. “Tell me one of those is mine. If it is, you are officially my hero for the day.”

Anna raises a brow. “Actually….”

“Great, thanks!” I grab one and take a long sip. It is hot and perfect.

Anna’s eyes widened in horror. “Hey! That is for Maria!”

I pause mid-sip. “Maria? Seriously?”

“Yes, Maria! And now I have to go all the way back downstairs to get another one.”

I gesture toward the other cup. “Well, what about that one? Surely, that is mine.”

“That one’s mine, Hazel!” Anna groans, shooting me a glare.

I wink at her. “Thanks for your sacrifice.”

“Every damn time,” she mutters, shaking her head.

I flash her a grin, unapologetic. “I live for these little moments.”

Anna mutters something under her breath, probably about me being the bane of her existence, while Nate leans against the elevator wall with a grin plastered across his face.

“You know, Hazel, if you ever need coffee, you just have to ask me. I would happily deliver.”

I snort. “Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Seriously dude, your lines are cringy. Quit it,” Anna scoffs.

“You’re just jealous you’re not on the receiving end of my awesomeness.”

“I am thankful I am not. I feel so sorry for Haze and any other lady who has to hear every pickup or cringy line from you.”

The elevator dings at our floor before Nate can say anything else. I am the first out, with Nate trailing behind, probably cooking up another smooth line. Heading straight for Maria’s office, I knock once before pushing open the door just in time to see she is on a call.

Maria is impeccably dressed as usual, her tailored burgundy blazer paired with sharp black heels.

Her silver-streaked hair is pulled into a sleek bun, and her piercing eyes instantly lock onto me.

If you don’t know her, she is intimidating.

If you do, she’s still intimidating but in a way that commands respect.

She motions for me to sit, holding up a finger to signal she will just be a moment. I sink into the chair across from her desk, sipping the stolen coffee with relish.

“Right. Tuesday works. Thanks, Derek. I will follow up later,” she says, hanging up. She swivels her chair toward me, piercing me with her sharp gaze.

“Morning, Hazel. How was your meeting?”

“Productive,” I say. “We finalized the details for next month’s anniversary shoot.”

“Good work,” she says, leaning back in her chair.

“Thanks, boss. So, what is this urgent thing?” I ask, crossing one leg over the other.

Maria smiles, a rare sight. “I have an exciting opportunity for you. Unexpected, but huge.”

I sat up straighter, intrigued. “I’m listening.”

“The Avalanche hockey team is doing a rebranding campaign, and we are among the three companies to shoot the event, and guess what? You are one of the photographers selected for the job.”

For a moment, I am sure I have misheard her. “Wait. What?”

“This is a huge deal, Hazel. National exposure. It is not just any campaign - it’s the campaign of the year. They specifically requested you after seeing your portfolio.”

My brain screeches to a halt at the word Avalanche. Of all the teams in the world, it had to be the one based in Autumn Cove. My heart thuds uncomfortably in my chest.

Her expression softens into a smile. “I can feel the excitement coming off you,” she says, beaming, misreading my silence.

If only she knew.

I clear my throat. “Um, Maria, don’t you think someone else would be better for this? Like Anna, or Gertrude, or heck, even Nate? They are all excellent photographers, and I am booked solid with shoots…”

Maria’s expression hardens, and she raises an eyebrow at me. Uh-oh. That is her ‘don’t even try it’ look.

“Hazel,” she says, her voice firm, “I do not know what is going on with you, but the Hazel I know would have jumped on this opportunity faster than I could blink. So, unless you have a legitimate reason, you are going.”

“I just…”

Her eyes narrow. “And do not give me some excuse about being booked. I already checked your schedule.”

I swallow hard, searching for something - anything - that will let me wiggle out of this. But Maria knows me too well.

“Look,” she says, her tone softening, “you are one of the best photographers we have. I would not send anyone else. Whatever you are running from in Autumn Cove…, you need to face it. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Do not let it slip through your fingers. Do not let your past ruin your future.”

I sigh, realizing there is absolutely no getting out of this. “When do I leave?”

“Tomorrow. Your flight is already booked.”

Of course, it is.

I sit there, speechless, as Maria turns her attention back to her computer.

“Anything else?” She asks without looking up.

“No,” I mutter, standing. “Thanks, Maria.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” she calls as I leave.

When I get home, I collapse onto my couch, staring at the ceiling.

My bag slides off my shoulder, hitting the floor with a thud.

Autumn Cove . Just the thought of it sends a shiver through me.

I have not been back in five years, and now, thanks to Maria and her ‘once-in-a-lifetime opportunity,’ I am being dragged back like some reluctant boomerang.

“Why?” I groan, covering my face with a throw pillow. “Why, universe? Why now?”

But the universe does not answer. It never does.

After a minute, I shove the pillow aside and sit up. I try to focus on the positives. It is just a job. A big one. The kind that could cement my career. I repeat the words in my head like a mantra, but the knot in my stomach refuses to loosen.

“Get a grip, Hazel. It is a professional opportunity, not a death sentence.”

Still, the thought of being back there - walking those streets, passing old landmarks, maybe running into people I am not ready to see - makes me pause. What if I bump into him? Or worse…, his mom?

I shake the thought away, my eyes landing on the framed photo on my bookshelf. It is a candid shot I took of Edna years ago, standing in a sunflower field. She had called it her best moment. I pick up the frame, running my thumb over the glass.

“You’d tell me to go, wouldn’t you?” I murmur. “You would say, ‘Hazel, stop being stubborn. Opportunities like this do not come every day.’”

Her voice echoes in my mind, warm and encouraging, and I can almost hear her laugh.

I place the frame back on the shelf and let out a resigned sigh.

I spend about an hour packing, and as I zip up the bag, my resolve strengthens.

“Hazel, you have changed. You are not the same girl who left Autumn Cove five years ago. You are Hazel McKee, lifestyle, and event photographer. You have built a life for yourself, and no amount of nostalgia or unfinished business will derail you. You have this, girl. It is just a job. Take the pictures, wow them, get paid, and come back home,” I say to my reflection in the mirror. A practice I learned from Edna.

“Autumn Cove,” I say aloud, staring into the mirror. “Ready or not, here I come.”