by Doyle, Dawn
“Maddoc, great work. Cash, dig deeper. Jonah, looking better than last time.”
No mention of Channing’s name, and I wasn’t surprised. He and coach butted heads regularly, and I was pretty sure they weren’t on speaking terms because of the shit he’d pulled during our game against the Cats.
Body checking wasn’t illegal, but when the other player didn’t have the puck, it fucking was. Channing had taken out the other team’s best defense player.
“Asshole,” Channing mumbled when we got back to where we’d started. “Needs to give me a fucking break.”
“If you hadn’t body checked from behind, he would,” Jonah said, shaking his head. “You know you did wrong, man.”
Channing snorted. “Fuck you, Jonah. Trent was asking for it. He broke my fucking nose and two of my ribs, remember? He had it coming.”
“You’re supposed to get him back discreetly,” Cash said, his eyes shifting to where coach was watching us. “Not in full view, and especially not without the fucking puck in play.”
Channing shrugged. “I couldn’t get to him when he had it,” he snapped. “He just kept passing it before I could reach him. It was like he was goading me.”
I saw it, and Trent was definitely fucking with Channing. No matter that he and I had had our differences in the past, he was my teammate and we looked out for our own.
“We’ve got two weeks before we play them again,” I said, hooking a puck with my twig and tapping it toward my feet. I flicked it up, turning the stick over and over, catching the small black disc either side of my blade before dropping it down to tap it back and forth in front of me. “You know you won’t be playing because of Trent, so just let us handle it.” We’d played the Cats months ago, and our next game against them was coming up after playing the Wings.
“How?” Cash asked, narrowing his eyes at me. “We’re gonna be watched too close to do anything.”
I smiled, the corners of my mouth turning up slowly. “I’ve got ideas.”
“Shit, he’s got that look,” Jonah said, laughing as he brought his gloved fist to his mouth. “Shit’s gonna go down.”
“Hell, yeah,” Channing said, and thumped me on the back. “And that’s why he’s our captain.”
Bobby skated over and halted, spraying us with ice and we covered our faces from the freezing blast. “Hey, dickheads,” he greeted us. “What’s happening, and why does Maddoc look like he’s deranged?” When I pumped my brows once, he grinned, then laughed. “Man, I love this fucking game.”
“Mad-dog Dass is going to stir shit up,” Jonah hollered, throwing his arm up.
“There’ll be no stirring shit of any kind!” Coach roared from the side. “Anything that has even a hint of sticking or leaving a bad smell, I’m benching all of you!”
“Boo!” we chorused as the last of the team finished their drills.
“You sure know how to make a guy flaccid, coach,” Bobby called out. “You’re fucking with my play time off the ice.” We burst out laughing when coach closed his eyes and groaned.
“I don’t want to know about your limp dick, Sherston. Now, all of you, fuck off and get out of my sight,” he said, throwing his arm out wide toward the exit.
“Love you, coach!” I yelled when he turned to walk away. I held my hands up, my gloves turned toward his retreating back. “Don’t let us part this way, please. Come back. I promise I’ll make it up to you.” My words drifted off with my insincere tone that made the guys break out in a fit of laughter.
“Don’t make me you bench you too, Dass,” coach fired back, making me laugh too.
This training session turned out not so bad after all.
“On for tonight?” Jonah asked as he caught up to me outside the locker rooms. He raised his hands and secured his wet, light-brown hair into some kind of knot thing at the back of his head. “Chan’s bringing the kegs and Bobby’s got the food covered. A few others are bringing supplies, too.”
“Of course,” I replied, my brows bunching and one side of my mouth curling up. “Do you even need to ask? They’re ready to be picked up.”
Jonah laughed, then slapped me on my back while we continued walking out of the building. “Figured as much. You’re the king of organizing.” I rolled my hand as though I were royalty, and Jonah grinned as he took his phone out of his pocket and swiped over the screen before sending a message. “Cash is bringing Daria, no surprise, and I think Bobby’s got a couple of girls, too.”
Daria. Channing’s cousin and a fan of the game. She hadn’t even cared that we never went to the same school; the taunts about her being a traitor never fazing her in the slightest, or so I heard from Cash and Channing.
“And I think Chan’s got some sorority sisters coming, but I have no fucking clue which house they belong to, or even if they go here,” he finished, pulling me from my thoughts.
I chuckled. “It wouldn’t surprise me, man. Remember the last time he said sisters were coming?”
He nodded and grinned. “Fuck, yeah. The wildest group of cheerleaders I’ve ever seen in my fucking life.”
“Mmm.” I closed my eyes for a second with that memory, and held back a laugh. “All of them turning up in their uniforms…” Five of them had arrived, and the guys’ heads had spun so fast to ogle them and their tiny as hell skirts and low-cut tops.
“Hot as fuck, man.”
“Definitely. Did you see the girl with the red ribbons, though?” I wasn’t focused on her at all. Everybody saw her; she made sure of that.
Jonah placed a hand on his chest. “I saw more of her that night that is was borderline offensive.” He turned his head toward me, pumping his brows. “Everything, man.”
“So did Bobby.”
His eyes bulged. “What? When?”
I burst out laughing. “Right before you, man.” His falling expression made me laugh harder. “Don’t be disappointed,” I said, patting his shoulder. “I’m sure she made her way through a few guys that night.” And she definitely had, but I wasn’t one of them. Channing’s parties tended to get a little out of control, and that was one of the worst. I couldn’t bring myself to tell Jonah that they weren’t exactly college girls, and that Channing had ordered them especially for that night. I’d had too much fun watching the guys hitting on them, and thinking they were all that when they scored.
“Fuck you, Maddoc,” he said, but he couldn’t hold back his smile.
“Nah, you’re not my type,” I replied, flicking back my imaginary long hair.
“They were awesome, though, right? I couldn’t believe how easy they were, and talented, if you know what I mean.”
“Yeah.” I almost choked on my words. “Me either.” I hadn’t touched any of them.
“See you back at the house later,” he said, turning off to the right toward the main building. The huge stone structure was daunting, even in the morning, especially with the gigantic towers at either end.
“See ya.”
I took a left and made my way to the parking lot. I opened the door to my truck, throwing my bag and twig on the back seat. Once in the driver’s side, I pushed the button to start the engine, the blue lights and white touch screen illuminating the black dash. I stroked over the steering wheel, and checked out the bruises across my hands, paying a little more attention to the tiny scar over my middle knuckle on my right hand. I’d gotten that just over three years ago, and only two people knew why. Me, and Channing. I rubbed my thumb over the spot, frowning at the dent still there where I’d nicked the bone when the glass sliced through the skin. It’d taken four stitches to close the wound, but a thousand bucks to replace the fucking mirror I’d punched.
Fucking Channing and his parents’ expensive tastes. He should’ve been the one to replace it; it was his fault. If he hadn’t ducked, I would’ve hit him instead. Oh, I’d gotten my hits in beforehand, though.
But, that was in the past, and I had no right fighting with him. He’d said some things that pissed me off—other than
the comments about Willow—and I beat the shit out of him for it.
I pulled out of the parking lot and headed south toward the highway. I had errands to run and a sweet girl waiting for me to brighten her day.
Kaia
Everything disappeared when I popped in my AirPods and opened up my music app. My favorite playlist had been running for the past twenty minutes, my head bopping in time with the faster track that was currently playing. Currently, AJ was telling me, ‘soldier down,’ while the rest of the group sang, ‘Straight through my heart.’ God, I loved Backstreet Boys. I was borderline obsessed.
The store was quiet, which didn’t surprise me. The doors had been open no more than thirty minutes before I pulled up to grab the groceries I needed for the day. Plus, it was so much better to buy certain items without prying eyes in the aisles.
“Let’s see,” I said out loud, reading over the notes on my phone, and checking the circles of the ones I’d placed in my basket. “Eggs, butter, and milk.” Once I had those, I went to get the final thing I had to get. “Fuck, seriously?” Up there, high on the top shelf, was my brand. Why they had to be up there was beyond me. “Okay.” I huffed out a breath and surveyed the shelves, searching for places that could safely hold my weight. At five-two, everything available became a ladder, especially in places like this where I had to scale at least three feet up to get what I needed.
I placed my red basket on the floor, the black plastic handle automatically dropping inside. After removing my AirPods, I gripped the metal shelf in front of me, then raised my right foot to slip between the packs of condoms and lube. Once secure, I reached up with my other hand to grab the next shelf, the groans and squeaks of the aged units warning me to slow the fuck down or get the hell off of there.
Where was a clerk when you needed them?
Ah, yes, the few people actually in there were anywhere but the hygiene and medicine products. Great.
“Damn it,” I hissed when I extended my arm, my fingers wiggling and barely tickling the side of the box. I groaned while straining my joints, forcing them to stretch just that little bit more so I could knock the box onto the floor for retrieval.
A shadow came from behind me, casting a dark silhouette that stretched to almost the full height of the shelves. My eyes fixed straight up on the box as a large hand gripped the item I needed, and brought it down.
“Here,” a smooth voice said. In my peripheral vision, I could see the yellow box as he held it out. “Do you need me to get you down from there, too?”
I heard the humor in his tone, and I wanted to smack it from him, but I was too busy clutching onto the shelf for support.
“I’m good,” I replied, then slowly uncurled my fingers and climbed down. Without looking up, I took the box out of his hand and placed it in my basket. “Thanks.” I was polite, after all.
When I straightened, I saw him place a box into his own basket—wondering why he was buying tampons—then turned to walk away without another word. I stood there like an idiot and watched him go, the hem of his forest-green hoodie sitting loosely on the band of his dark-blue jeans, his thick legs taking long strides with ease. His hood was up, but I knew blond hair was hidden below. I didn’t have to guess at all; I knew who it was.
Maddoc Dass. Hockey player and prick extraordinaire—the main tool in the box that was the Wranglers.
I thought I’d gotten away from the team that beat my high school time and time again, but just when I thought I was safe from the Lions, five of the guys from the shit-head squad had managed to score sports scholarships at Westchester University, the place I’d fought tooth and fucking nail to get in. They’d shown up like they were a gift bestowed upon the campus, just like they always had done. I had to exclude Cash in that, though. He was a great guy and he and Daria were still going strong for almost four years.
I put my bitterness aside and made my way in the same direction Maddoc had gone, but only because I needed to checkout. Once I got close to where I needed to be, I scanned the area and saw nobody at the registers, but the self-serve areas were available.
“Yeah, I got what you needed.”
I froze when I heard his voice again, and I turned to see him standing in the cereal aisle, holding his phone up in front of him and gesturing quickly with the other.
“Shit,” I whispered when his head turned a little toward me. I darted forward, taking a couple of quick steps and grabbed whatever was in front of me on the end—chocolate bars on a three-for-two deal.
Yes please.
“No, I remembered you said regular flow, Willow,” he said as though the other person had questioned him. “It’s a good job I love you because there’s no fucking way I’d be grabbing this stuff any other time. I’m just getting some cereal, and I’ll be on my way, okay?”
Willow. I’d first heard that name three years ago, and now still, especially when he was gone most weekends to visit her, but I’d never bothered to listen to more. It wasn’t my business, but I felt sorry for whoever she was. Declaring his love for her while screwing around with who knows how many puck bunnies that swarmed around the hockey team was disgusting.
When I heard his heavy footsteps coming closer, I speed-walked to the nearest checkout and unloaded my items, scanning and placing them in a paper bag as fast as my hands, and the machine, would allow. In record time, I’d bagged and waked out of the store, but once I was through the doors, I froze.
“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” I drew out in disbelief. Right next to my old, green Mini Cooper was a huge flashy truck, the black paint sparkling like new as well as the shiny gold Chevy badge on the massive grill . It made my car look like it was something out of a toy store, a miniature version that kids would drive if the roof was cut away.
It wasn’t the fact his brand new, expensive and top-of-the-range Silverado was parked in the space next to mine, it was the fact he’d done it when there was nobody else in the entire fucking lot! Seriously, who the hell does that?
I should open my door wide and dent his beloved vehicle to teach him a lesson.
While my inner bitchiness egged me on, my rational thinking got the better of me. Expensive cars meant expensive repairs, and the fact I was the only other one there, there was no doubt it’d be me that was to blame. There was also one other problem—he was parked on my passenger side. I couldn’t make it look like an accident if I wanted to.
“Douche,” I whispered under my breath and opened my car door, then deposited my bag on the passenger seat. I put my keys in the ignition and started the engine, just as Maddoc walked out, looking like the smug idiot that he was.
His eyes zeroed in on me and his lips quirked up. He lifted his grocery bag and tapped it. “Mensies, huh? I hope you stocked up on that candy, Kaia. I heard the first couple of days can be a bitch.”
My jaw fell and my eyes practically bugged out of my head. “What?” I screeched as his face lit up and his mouth curled as he chuckled, his shoulders shaking while he walked to his truck. “You’re a real jerk, you know that?”
Smooth, Kaia, real smooth.
Maddoc shrugged and unlocked his door. “Better than being a fake one, I guess.”
“Oof!” My cheeks blew out while I huffed my frustration, my fingers gripping the wheel hard. The gear box complained and groaned as I shifted into reverse, then backed out of my space. I lifted my hand and flipped him the bird through my window as I drove away.
My heart rate hadn’t decreased much by the time I’d gotten back to my apartment, my anger still flaring and my hands aching from clenching my fists so damn hard.
“Wow, you’re cheery,” Daria said, dripping in sarcasm that was too much for seven-thirty am. “Something’s obviously pissed you off.” I emptied the contents of the bag onto the counter in our shared kitchen. “Oh, sorry, babe.”
I took a calming breath and flattened my hands on the surface of the cheap laminate of the counter. “Yeah. My stomach is killing me, my back is aching, and not only th
at, they were on the top shelf,” I complained.
“Still?” Daria asked, surprised. “I’ve told Mr. Shaw that we need them in their rightful place in the center.”
“Yeah, well, condoms and lube seem to be more important.”
‘I’ll speak to him again,” she said, then walked over to me. She wrapped her arms around me and kissed my cheek. “That’s not all you’re crabby about, though, I can tell.”
“Ugh, why did I have to run into him today?” I admitted before I could stop myself.
“Who?”
I deadpanned. Daria knew there was bitterness between Maddoc and I, mainly from me. “You know.”
“Ah, tall, blond, and hits every one of your nerves?” She laughed, shaking her head. “I still don’t know why he rubs you the wrong way.”
I hadn’t told Daria about that night; I hadn’t wanted to. Three years and I hadn’t talked about the mystery man in the closet who’d made my toes curl with just his kiss. I couldn’t; not after what had happened after we’d left the party to nurse my wrist when I’d punched Channing. He’d gotten many more after that, but it wasn’t from me. Maddoc had kicked his ass, but nobody knew why.
“Well, he manages to do it so well,” I snipped out with a scowl.
“Remember that night?” she asked as though reading my thoughts, then placed her hands on the counter, sliding her butt up to sit on it. “The one where you came to the party and punched Chan?” She grinned and pumped her brows.
“Like I could forget.”
“You’ll never guess what!” Daria squealed as she closed the door, then sat on my bed next to me while I pulled on my socks. She leaned over, her face right next to mine. She lowered her voice so she was almost mouthing the words.“Maddoc kicked Chan’s ass last night!”
I turned to see her mouth and eyes gaping like this was the finest tea to be spilled ever. “Maddoc?” I asked, pretending I didn’t know who she was talking about. But, I did. Tall, gorgeous, sexy as sin, and lips that were as perfect as I’d ever felt. I’d kissed only a couple of guys, but him… He was something else, and also a fucking Lion!
