Page 26

NINETEEN

Beck

I grabbed a whole bucket of pucks with at least fifty inside and dumped them on the ice, scattering them throughout the offensive and neutral zones.

While I skated from one to the next, not going in any order, moving back and forth between sides, I didn’t take my time while I shot toward the goal.

I didn’t focus on form. I didn’t aim the way I would if this were a game.

Because this session wasn’t about seeing how many goals I could make.

This session was to work out the gnawing feeling in my body.

But there was someone who was making that difficult, someone who was challenging me, and that was Landon. He was what stood between me and the goal, attempting to deflect every puck I shot his way.

The truth was, I barely even saw him. Not his stance, leg pads, stick work—it was all a blur.

All I saw was the puck.

While I used every goddamn ounce of power I had to sweep that puck toward the goal, all I heard was my text conversation with Jolie continuously repeating in my head.

Did I upset you?

No! Why would you even think that?

Because she had been blowing me off since she had left my house that morning. Because her responses were few and far between. Because I couldn’t believe she wasn’t making more of an effort to see me.

Jolie had given me a taste.

I needed more.

I wanted more.

Didn’t she feel the same way?

It feels like I somehow fucked things up again.

Oh my God, please don’t think that. I’m not mad. I’m not upset. I promise, it’s not you, Beck. I swear on everything.

Then what the hell was it?

She was dating someone?

Was she uninterested in seeing if this could work between us?

Did she not have any feelings for me?

Was my tongue the only thing she wanted from me?

“Fuck!” I shouted. “What the fuuuck ?!”

My body should have been battered from the hours of practice the team had just endured. I should have been breathless from the way I had been skating and shooting. My shoulder should have been screaming every time I lifted my dominant arm, my hips aching from the insistent twisting.

I felt nothing.

But I wasn’t done.

I needed more.

I needed to get this out—this feeling that was consuming me.

And nothing, not a whistle or someone yelling, could stop me from slamming that piece of vulcanized rubber toward the opposite end of the ice.

So, you’re saying it’s on you …

I’ll explain everything tomorrow night. Try to get some sleep.

Sleep? How the hell could that have been possible when my mind was racing between theories?

When I was filled with endless questions.

When my sister was planting regret bombs in my head and they were detonating every second.

“Dude, are you trying to fucking kill me?”

It took a moment before I realized I wasn’t the one who had spoken those words. It was Landon, skating toward me, covering his face even though he was wearing a mask because my stick was pelting pucks right at him.

“Beck! Chill, you motherfucker!”

My arm halted midair, my jaw clenched, my breathing coming out in deep grunts. “I’m sorry. I …”

“What the hell crawled up your ass today?” He moved around me in a circle. “You were a beast during practice, and now you’re shooting at me like you’re at a fucking gun range.”

I slipped my hand out of my glove and pulled off my helmet. I hadn’t even felt hot, but the sweat poured straight down the front of me, and as it started to drip into my eyes and sting, I wiped them. “It was a long night.”

And a long couple of days, but the last thing I wanted was to talk about it. Besides, Landon didn’t even know that I’d run into Jolie, which meant I’d have to start from the beginning, and that was a tale I wasn’t getting into now.

“You all right, my man?”

While we skated toward the opening in the rink, I handed my stick to one of the team’s helpers and replied, “Yeah, I’m good.”

“You sure?”

I shook some of the sweat out of my hair. “Positive.”

Even though he eyed me down, I stayed silent.

My siblings had been giving me a fucking earful since we’d met up at Charred on Saturday night.

Even Colson had voiced his thoughts after Eden filled him in on our family group chat.

The last thing I needed was another opinion swirling around in my head.

Landon took off his helmet and stepped off the ice after me, groaning as soon as his skates hit the concrete. “Fuck day one of practice.” His hand went to my shoulder, giving me a surprising amount of weight as we walked to the locker room. “I’m not going to be able to move in a couple of hours.”

“You need a cold plunge, followed by at least twenty minutes in the hyperbaric chamber.” Adrenaline was what was keeping me moving, but as soon as that wore off, I was going to be in pain.

Fortunately, I had both of those at my house, so I didn’t have to use the team’s.

“Do it, trust me. You won’t make it to tomorrow’s practice if you don’t. ”

“Ugh,” he moaned.

I laughed at him. “You sound like a little bitch.”

He tossed his glove and flipped me off. “I hope you’re sore as fuck tomorrow. Asshole.”

I continued to chuckle. He took a seat at his locker, which was right next to mine, and I stayed standing to strip off my practice jersey. I then unhooked my shoulder pads and the rest of my gear, handing each piece to our equipment manager, leaving me in just my compression shorts.

“What are you up to tonight?” Landon leaned forward to take off his skates. “Do you want to go out and grab some drinks?”

“Can’t.”

“You have plans?” He slipped one skate off and went to work on the other. “I’ll wager a grand right now that you’re even too sore to get hard. So, how about you cancel those plans and come out with me?”

I laughed. “Dude, nothing stops me from getting hard. And I don’t care how sore I am, I’m never too sore for sex.” One of the helpers threw me a towel, and I rubbed it over my soaked head. “I’m going to hit the shower?—”

“Listen up,” our coach said as he walked to the center of the locker room, glancing around where the team was either sitting or standing—all of us in different stages of getting undressed. “Before you leave or go take a shower, I need you sitting down for a few minutes so we can go over something.”

The room turned completely silent.

I sat next to Landon, wondering if Coach was going to discuss how we’d played today. As a whole, we didn’t look great. Most of the guys, including myself, hadn’t been on skates in weeks. Their diets weren’t in check. They hadn’t lifted consistently. Their stamina was shit.

They liked to fuck off during the offseason, and I didn’t blame them. We only had a short window of downtime.

But one thing we knew how to do was pull it together. By the first preseason game within the next couple of weeks, we’d be back to the team Coach expected.

“We have a few changes that are about to take place, but instead of hearing those from me, I’m going to let you hear it from the man himself. Please cover up, gentlemen.”

Since I was in shorts and had nothing to cover, I glanced at Landon and whispered, “What the fuck is happening?”

“No idea,” he replied.

A man I’d never seen before walked into the center of the locker room, shaking Coach’s hand. He waited for Coach to join us before he said, “Most of you, I assume, don’t know who I am, so let me introduce myself. My name’s Mark Jameson, and as of a few days ago, I’m the new owner of your team.”

Whispers began to fill the silence, including mine as I glanced back at Landon and whispered, “What the hell? We were sold? And no one told us?”

“I’m sure many of you have questions. I promise you’re going to get those answers and you’re going to get them from me,” Mark said, clasping his hands, his gold wedding band shining under the lights.

“But I want to start off by saying, the previous owner did an excellent job at running your organization, and I don’t plan on making that many changes.

At least not ones you’ll feel at your level.

” His eyes scanned the horseshoe of lockers, making sure to connect with each of us.

“What I do plan on doing is making this team more profitable. Ramping up marketing efforts. Making sure the Whales are getting the press you superstars deserve.”

There was a brief round of applause from our team.

“Over the next couple of weeks, you’re going to be seeing a lot of me.

I’ll be attending some of your practices.

I’ll be coming in during your weight training sessions.

I want to get to know you, I want to see how you operate, and I want to get a sense of how you work as a team.

” He cleared his throat. “I’m hoping, at some point over the next week, I can sit down with each of you personally to discuss the things you’d like to see implemented and talk about your concerns.

” He held his chin, his other hand holding the elbow of his raised hand.

“As players, you’re the foundation. You see a completely different side of this sport, a side that’s most important, and I want to make sure your needs aren’t only addressed, but they’re met. ”

I stole a quick peek at Landon, and he gave me a half smile, signaling he was impressed with what he’d heard so far.

So was I.

I’d been with this team since I’d joined the league, and the previous owner never came around. He left everything in management’s hands. He’d never once asked for our opinion on anything.

When Mark’s hand dropped from his face, he crossed his arms, the movement causing his black suit jacket to pull across the tops of his shoulders.

“One of the biggest changes you’ll feel at your level is marketing.

I’m going to be honest—and I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know—but what you previously had wasn’t up to par.

I dare say … it was shit. Much of it was outsourced, and aside from game-day promotions, you didn’t have a team on-site, giving you the publicity you need and deserve.

” He nodded at someone and added, “That team has been fired.” He held out his hand.

“I’d like to introduce you to your new head of marketing. ”

Two noises took over the room. The first was the clicking of a very high pair of heels, and the second was a murmur from my teammates.

The head of marketing came from the entrance behind me, and as she made her way toward Mark, it wasn’t her bare legs—which looked fit and gorgeous and fucking endless, half covered in a skirt—that held my attention.

As she patted Mark’s shoulder and turned toward us, it wasn’t her tits—well hidden under a blazer, but pushed out enough to hint at how perfect they were—that captured me.

What owned me, what I couldn’t stop staring at, were her light-blue eyes.

Eyes that were now locked with mine.

And her hair.

Those wild red locks that I knew far too well.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Jolie …