Play the Game: A New Adult Hockey Romance (Golden Boys Hockey Book 1)

by Emma Tharp

  Stella's eyes are clear and open as I tell her my story. "That must've been so hard for you as a kid."

  “Yeah, and the guy that got my mother pregnant left her when she told him she was going to have his baby.” My stomach churns. “I don’t know how any man could do that. My mother taught me to be good to women and show respect. That’s why I’ve never invested time in a relationship. Not until I can be all in and give her everything she needs.”

  “It sounds like your mother raised you right.”

  "She did her best. But my childhood wasn’t all bad. Our neighbors, the Jenkins family, had a couple of boys that were older than me. They used to flood their yard in the winter. It was a nice ice rink. One winter day the younger son invited me to come and skate with them. They had an old pair of skates and a stick that I could use. The neighborhood kids would all come out and we’d all play a game of hockey."

  Stella sips her Diet Coke, then sets the cup in front of her. "Is that where your love of hockey started?"

  My whole body lights up when I think back on those cold winter days.

  "Definitely. One afternoon, my neighbor's dad was out watching us play and he told me when I should join them for a real hockey practice. I was about ten years old at the time and even then, I knew there was no way we could afford it." I breathe out a long sigh and continue. "He saw the potential in me and took care of everything. He signed me up for a scholarship program. It covered the cost of the team and my gear. Mr. Jenkins changed my life. One day, I'm going to go back home and properly thank him."

  "That's great," Stella says as she butters a piece of warm bread and hands it to me.

  "It's my dream to one day pay it forward and help underprivileged kids get into sports."

  "I love that, Gavin." The adoring look in her eyes steals my breath.

  Just as I'm about to ask her about her upbringing, a tall, slender, preppy guy approaches our table. He's dressed in a shirt, tie, and a sweater vest with his hair styled perfectly, like he used a hair dryer and hairspray on it before he left the house.

  "Stella," preppy guy says. "How are you?"

  When Stella's eyes flash to his, her skin pales and she shifts in her seat. "Hello, Hunter. I'm good. How about yourself?"

  "I'm doing well. I'm here with Mother and Pappa. You should stop over to the table and say hello." Hunter's gaze lands on me and his lips and brows pinch together. His expression makes me want to smack it off his face. "Who's your friend?"

  "Hunter, this is Gavin, my boyfriend. He plays for the Boston College hockey team."

  There's pride in her voice that fills me with more contentment than I can explain.

  Hunter can't keep the look of surprise off his face as his jaw hangs open.

  "Wow. It didn't take you long to get over me." He glares at Stella, but she seems completely unfazed by this douchebag’s reaction.

  "I'm happy, Hunter. It's time for you to make a fresh start, too."

  He clears his throat and acts like he didn’t hear her. “Have you spoken to your father? We had a chance to chat recently. He’s such a wonderful man.”

  Stella’s lips flatten into a straight line. “I’d appreciate it if you could move on from me and the rest of my family.”

  "Okay. I better get back to my parents. I'll see you around. If you need anything, don't hesitate to call me. You know I'll always be here for you," he says, then walks away.

  Stella blows out a long breath and rests her head in her hands.

  "Are you okay?" I ask.

  If she isn't, I'll go after the asshole and punch the smug look off his face.

  "I am. I'm so sorry about that."

  "Who is he?"

  Stella drains the rest of her Diet Coke. "He's my ex. I don't know what possessed him to come over to our table. I hope he didn't ruin our date."

  "No way. Nobody can wreck our time together."

  Her shoulders sag in relief.

  Our waiter drops off our meals. My stomach growls at the massive piece of meat and the spicy, peppery scent permeating the air. Before I take a bite, I need to ask Stella a question.

  "Do you still have feelings for him?"

  She didn’t act like she does, but Hunter, in his J.Crew outfit, expensive-looking watch, and stuffy, proper attitude seems like he's more her type than I am.

  Her hand flies to her chest and her worried eyes lock with mine. "Oh, my God. No. He suffocated me in our relationship. He acted more like a father than a boyfriend."

  Relief washes over me, relaxing my limbs. "Good. Before he rudely interrupted us, I was going to ask you about your family. I've met your father. What about the rest of them?"

  I don’t add that her dear old dad was at the pancake breakfast this morning, shooting daggers at me with his eyes. No need to dampen the mood any more than her ex showing up here uninvited has.

  She gives me a weak smile. “My mother is the sweetest woman you’ll ever meet. I have one ultra-smart, overachieving sister. My father loves to rub all of her successes in my face. My sister and I aren’t close, which is a little sad, but we’re just too different.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  “Yes. I’d love to be closer with her. Maybe someday. We grew up with money, and never needed anything. But all I ever really wanted was love and acceptance from my dad. He puts so much pressure on me. It weighs me down and I never feel good enough.” She shifts in her chair, like the words make her as uncomfortable as her father.

  I take her hand in mine and run my fingertip along her palm. “Stella, you’re smart, kind, beautiful. More than enough. Please never let anyone make you feel less than perfect.”

  Something about her father has rubbed me the wrong way, and hearing the way he treats his family makes me dislike the man even more. But he’s Stella’s dad. If we’re together as a couple, he’s going to have to accept me, and vice versa. Hopefully, I won’t have to have too many interactions with him. I’m not sure how I’ll keep my temper in check if he treats Stella poorly around me.

  It’s important for me to stay focused on my goals: Stella, hockey, and school. I can’t let anything get in my way. I’ve come too far, and it’s a long way to fall if anything gets in my way.

  Nineteen

  Stella

  I draw in a deep, cleansing breath before opening the door of my parents’ house. I've had a pit in my stomach ever since my father texted me last night that he and my mom wanted me to come home for breakfast this morning. I'm sure he has an ulterior motive. I haven't been home since the of end winter break six weeks ago. So much has changed since then.

  "Oh, sweetheart. It's so good to have you home," my mother says as she pulls me into a huge hug when I walk in the door. The perfume she's been wearing for as long as I can remember, Oscar by Oscar de la Renta, gives me a shred of comfort, but it's short-lived when my dad steps into the kitchen.

  "Stella. I'm glad you could make it." He's holding a tumbler glass half full of amber liquid as he stares me up and down.

  It’s eleven a.m. A little early for scotch, but I’m not about to comment.

  "Hello, sir."

  There's an undercurrent of tension in the air and I wonder if my parents feel it too.

  "Breakfast is ready," Mom says in an overly cheery tone, surely her attempt to ease the strain in the room. "Stella, why don't you help me carry the food into the dining room?"

  She pulls a quiche out of the oven.

  I move to the counter and grab the brightly colored fruit plate Mom must’ve spent all morning preparing. "Sure. It smells great."

  I'm not surprised when my dad doesn't lift a finger to help bring a thing into the dining room, but goes in before us and takes a seat at the head of the table.

  We sit in our normal seats. All that’s missing is my goody-two-shoes sister.

  An eerie quiet sits around the table with us as we fill our plates with food. Each second that passes, the unease grows in my gut, stealing my appetite.

  "Have you guys talked to
Catherine? How is she doing?" I ask to break the painful silence.

  "Yes." Dad takes a sip of his drink. "Your sister calls us almost every day. She's doing wonderfully. Straight As, of course, and landed an internship at a top firm. We couldn’t be prouder."

  Of course. And why wouldn't she call every day? With so much to brag about. She's a huge kiss-ass.

  "I'm glad she's doing well." I refuse to feel bad that my sister is in constant contact with my parents.

  Does she ever reach out to me? Nope. Never. She and I couldn't be more different, and since we have nothing in common, on the rare occasion when we talk, the conversation is strained and slightly awkward.

  "How is school?" Mom runs her fork through her quiche, playing with it like she always does with her food. The woman doesn't eat much and she’ll be the last one at the table. It takes her forever to eat a meal, and she rarely ever finishes.

  "It's been great. I love my classes and my grades are good." I look pointedly at my father, who seems to be more interested in his bacon than me. Why did he even bother inviting me here? "Thank you for the necklace, by the way. I haven't had a chance to thank you, Mom."

  I slip my finger under the collar of my shirt and rest the necklace on top of it to show both my parents that I am wearing their gift. In their presence will be the only time I put the thing on.

  She looks at my father, a slight pinch between her brows before turning her attention to me. "I'm glad you like it."

  It's clear she didn't know anything about the necklace my father gave me, even though he told me it was from the both of them.

  "Stella." Dad sets his fork down and I can tell by his stern demeanor what he's about to say is going to be serious. "When I ran into you outside the lab, there was some guy with a black eye who had his arm around you. I was hoping the two of you were just friends, but it's come to my attention you’re an item."

  Who told him that? A lightbulb goes off when I remember Hunter stopping at our table when Gavin and I were eating dinner. It's pointless to deny my relationship with Gavin.

  "I have been spending time with Gavin Hunt. He and I are lab partners and we've grown into something…more."

  Dad swallows the rest of his drink. Ice clinks the edge of the glass as he sets it on the table with more force than is necessary.

  "Your mother and I want what's best for you. And a young man walking around campus with a black eye isn't the type of person we want to see you with. He's clearly a troublemaker."

  My stomach starts to turn, even though I've only had a couple of forkfuls of my meal. This is why he invited me here. To lecture me about Gavin.

  "The reason he has a black eye is because he’s a hockey player. Someone punched him. Fighting is a part of the game."

  "I’m sure he's a nice boy," Mom tries to interject.

  "Did you know he’s at Boston College on a full scholarship?" Dad asks, ignoring my mother's comment. "And from what I gather, he didn't have the best upbringing and carries somewhat of a bad reputation around campus."

  "Have you been checking up on him?"

  It's a stupid question, because clearly, he has been.

  He shrugs, as if it's standard practice to spy on me and the people I hang around with. "It's my job to protect you."

  I bite my tongue so hard a sharp metallic taste fills my mouth. I never speak out against my father, but he's crossed the line this time.

  "Gavin is a talented athlete,” I say. “He's smart and he cares about me. I'm not sure why you think looking him up is protecting me. I didn't ask for that. I don't need you to look out for me anymore."

  Dad's nostrils flare and his face goes red. "It doesn't matter how old you are. I'm your father and I will always look out for you. Take my advice, Stella. Stop seeing him."

  I ball my hands into fists at my side. The urge to slap my father is overwhelming. What he’s doing isn't protecting me. He's trying to micromanage my life.

  My mother lets out a small sob as she watches this argument unfold. I've never spoken to my father this way. But he's never crossed the line like this.

  "I'm not going to stop seeing Gavin. And I would appreciate it if you and Hunter would butt out of my life."

  If he's surprised that I know he and Hunter have been in contact, he doesn't show it.

  "Hunter always has your best interests at heart. As do I. I’m sure that if you wanted to rekindle things with him, he would consider it."

  He's crossed the fucking line. Again.

  I scrub my hand down my face and breathe deeply. In through the nose, out through the mouth. "No, Dad. I don't want to be with Hunter. I wasn't happy when I dated him. I am happy now—with Gavin."

  "It's only a matter of time before he hurts you.” He jabs his finger against the table. “Mark my words."

  I grind my teeth as my face heats up. I can't keep doing this.

  Before I can think, I spring up out of my chair. "I'm sorry, Mom, to ruin breakfast, but I need to leave. Dad, you can't control me."

  With that, I turn on my heel and storm out the door and to my car.

  Hot tears run down my cheeks the entire drive back to Boston. How dare my father presume to know how Gavin will treat me? He has controlled everything in my life for so long, it's no wonder he thinks he can continue to do it with the people I date.

  As soon as I’m back in town, I drive straight to Gavin's. I pound on the door of the hockey house and I'm relieved when Gavin answers.

  His eyes scan my tear-stained face and concern crosses his features. "Are you okay?"

  I throw myself into his arms and he gathers me in a warm, comforting hug. He’s exactly what I need.

  After a minute, he pulls back. "Talk to me."

  "Let's go to your room."

  He nods and leads the way.

  I take off my coat and sit on the bed where Gavin comes to join me.

  "I just left breakfast at my parents’. It was awful."

  "What happened?"

  "My dad thinks he can control me like I'm a child. He doesn’t want me to date you. I told him he can’t stop me. He thinks you aren’t good for me and that you’ll hurt me.” I swipe the tears from my cheeks. “But I don't want to talk about it anymore."

  I lean in and take his face in my hands and press my lips to his.

  Gavin deepens the kiss and that familiar stir begins low in my belly.

  I pull away, only long enough to tug my shirt off over my head.

  Gavin's eyes darken as his fingers crest the top of my breast, just above my bra. "Are you sure you’re okay?"

  There's so much concern in his voice, my heart swells. This is exactly where I want to be.

  "Yes. Absolutely."

  Gavin reaches back and grabs his T-shirt and yanks it over his head. "Good. Whenever you’re upset, or need to talk, you know I've got you. Right?"

  "I do. And you have me, because Gavin, I'm falling for you," I say and surprise myself at how easily the words left my lips. "I love you."

  Gavin crashes his mouth to mine with so much passion and love, my entire body fills with it. I know with absolute certainty that Gavin is who I belong with. Screw my dad and his lectures. He doesn't get to tell me what to do anymore.

  The ear-piercing ringtone of Gavin's phone startles us both.

  He pulls his phone out of his pocket to turn off the ringer and looks at the screen.

  "Fuck! I have to go. Right now. I'm sorry."

  My chest heaves as Gavin puts his shirt back on, slips on his sneakers, and grab his keys before running out the door.

  Where is he going in such a hurry? Why would he leave like that after I just told him I loved him?

  As I grab my shirt off the floor and slip it on over my head, doubt starts to creep in. I stare around his quiet bedroom, attempting to figure out what the hell just happened.

  My stomach rolls as my father's words ring in my head. Is he right? Is Gavin only going to hurt me?

  Twenty

  Gavin

  Sh
it. Shit. Shit.

  How could I have forgotten I was supposed to be meeting Coach? Right now. I know it's because Stella stopped by and needed to talk to me, and I want to be there for her. There’s no way I would’ve forgotten if I weren’t distracted.

  I feel like shit for the way I stormed out on her, but this is bad. This is exactly why I said I’d never get involved with anyone romantically while I’m in school.

  But Stella…

  I shake my head, forcing myself to clear her from my thoughts. Stay focused, man. I’m never late for a meeting with Coach Cohen. It's one of his major rules. If you're late for practice, you should just skip because he won't let you on the ice, even if you’re only five minutes late.

  It’s just my luck I end up behind someone that’s driving less than the speed limit. I look both ways and decide to take my chances. I slam my foot down on the accelerator, and zoom around the car driven by a white-haired guy that barely looks like he can see over the dash.

  Tension radiates up and down the back of my neck as I speed down the road, white-gripping the wheel. When I come to a four-way stoplight, it turns yellow. Instead of slowing down, I gun it through the intersection and race down the road.

  A loud blaring siren squawks to life from somewhere behind me. Dammit. When I glance in my rearview mirror, a cop car with its lights flashing follows me down the road. I wonder how many traffic violations he caught me in.

  As I pull over, my already pounding pulse seems to spike to a dangerous level. Now I'm going to be even later to meet Coach.

  I roll down the window, watching in the side mirror as the officer in full uniform with his puffed-out chest, approaches my car. He stops at the window.

  "License and registration, please." It’s clear by his tone, set jaw, and over-exaggerated posture, the guy’s a ball buster.

  I reach across to the glove compartment where my wallet is stowed, pull them out, and hand them over. “Here you go, sir.”