Hawke

by Sawyer Bennett

  His eyes cut from me over to Vale, who turns her head away to stare at the wall.

  I scrub my hands through my hair, which I've always worn long, between chin and shoulder, depending on my mood. "Fuck...give me just a minute, man."

  Oliver nods and eases out, shutting the door quietly.

  I turn to look back at Vale and she won't give me the courtesy of a return glance. So I take her jaw, squeezing slightly, and force her to turn and look at me. When she does, I feel my heart shrivel up and die.

  There's nothing there.

  It's just...dead.

  "Are we over?" I ask her quietly.

  "Yes," she says, with absolutely no hesitation, but there's a warble to her voice and a quiver to her lip.

  "Will you at least tell me why?"

  "No," she says just as resolutely, but tears fill her eyes. "I don't want to discuss it with you."

  I have one more question as I feel my entire world start to darken. Depending on how she answers, this decides whether or not I miss my plane. Because if there's even a chance that I think I can reach her, I'm going to sit on this bed and talk to her until I'm blue in the face.

  "Do you still love me?" I ask, practically choking the words out.

  I brace as if I'm about to get pounded by the biggest goon in the league. I know that her answer has the power to hurt me worse than I ever have been before on the ice.

  She stares at me a moment...a single, silent tear slips down her cheek. Then she lowers her face and says, "No. I don't love you, Hawke."

  In that one moment my entire world stops spinning. I go deaf, my vision dims, and I swear the breath just evaporates from my lungs. Time stands brutally still, holding me captive in a nightmare. I can do nothing but stare at the girl who in one instant has my heart, and in the next instant makes it disintegrate.

  Absolute and utter quiet.

  Me staring at her.

  Vale staring at her lap.

  This moment could go on for an eternity, but then I hear Oliver's car engine start from out on the street, a subtle reminder I have places to be.

  Everything starts moving again.

  My heart begins a steady thumping. I can hear Avery emptying the dishwasher in the kitchen, and I can hear Vale's ragged breathing as she refuses to look at me.

  I stand from the bed and look down at her, willing her to look up and tell me she just lied to my face.

  But she doesn't.

  So I turn around and walk out of her room, but not without letting her know that this isn't over. "I'll call you tonight after I land."

  She doesn't respond, and somehow I just know. When I call tonight, Vale's not going to answer the phone.

  Chapter 1

  Hawke

  PRESENT DAY

  The vibe in the air is palpably electric. Makes my skin prickle and my blood race.

  The first day of training camp...where it all starts for us.

  A new season.

  Another run at the Cup.

  My first day as a member of the defending champion Carolina Cold Fury.

  Fuck yeah...I could probably get a hard-on just from the way I'm feeling right now.

  I walk to the team meeting room in the basement of the Cold Fury arena. First order of business is to attend this "welcome back" meeting where all the new acquisitions are introduced. Then we'll have a team picture, followed by individual meetings with the coaches, and end the day with a party at Coach Pretore's house. I feel like tying one on tonight, and I never deny myself something I want. I understand Coach's welcome back party is pretty sedate, but I guarantee a few of the guys will be willing to head out after for some real partying. It's sort of my last night of freedom before the season starts, and I can't think of a better way to end it than drinks with my new buds and a hot piece of ass to finish the night off.

  Nodding at a few players I recognize, either from having played with them before or from having checked them hard into the boards, my eyes catch on Garrett Samuelson as soon as I enter the room. He's sitting about five rows up from the bottom with the man I know to be my new team captain, Alex Crossman, along with Zack Grantham, the second-line left winger for the Cold Fury. Garrett sees me and waves me over.

  We played a year together in Pittsburgh and I was his defenseman on the right side. Good dude and glad to be back playing with him, although I know it's not a given I'll be playing on the first line. I mean, I should be, I just know it's never a given.

  Gray Brannon, the general manager of the Cold Fury, used her statistical mojo that has all the tongues wagging in the league and put a hard push to acquire me this year from the Titans. My stats have me as the third-ranked defenseman in the entire league, but Gray says those numbers don't show the true story. While I didn't talk to her directly, according to my agent, she says in her opinion I'm really the best. I'm not an overly humble man at the best of times, so I'll have to just go ahead and agree with her.

  I make my way directly up to Garrett, who stands and gives me a bro hug. Introductions aren't needed, since the last time the Titans played the Cold Fury was just this past February. Afterward, I went out for a few beers with Garrett, Alex, Zack, and the team's then-goalie, Ryker Evans, as our team plane wasn't heading out until the next day. All good dudes, and fuck...Alex is the best player in the league right now, so I know how fortunate I am to be here on a defending championship team. The only one missing from the group today is Ryker, and that's because he decided not to renew his contract with the Cold Fury.

  In a move that was very controversial and set all the hockey gossips buzzing, Ryker stepped off his goalie throne as one of the all-time hockey greats and decided to retire the week after he helped bring the Cup to Raleigh, just a few short months ago. In another not quite so controversial move, but one that set female fans all ablaze, Ryker and Gray eloped to Vegas and got married. Thereafter, it was absolutely no surprise when he accepted a position on the goalie coaching staff with the Cold Fury. While it didn't appear the executive board had a problem with a player being involved with the team's boss, I'd bet dollars to pesos that Ryker had a problem with it. From what little I know of the man, he has huge respect for Gray and doesn't want to interfere with her history-making career as the league's only female general manager.

  "Welcome to the team, my man," Garrett says as they all shuffle down a seat to let me take the one on the end.

  "Thanks. Good to be here," I tell him.

  "Are you all moved in?" Alex asks as he leans forward on the other side of Garrett to look at me.

  "All moved in, just not unpacked. Figured that will get done sometime next summer."

  "Say the word, dude," Zack says from the other side of Alex. "I bet Sutton, Olivia, Kate, and Gray could get you unpacked in about two hours flat. You provide pizza and beer for us all, we'll get it done."

  "Yeah," I drawl out with a grin. "Not about to have my boss unpack my underwear boxes."

  "It's all good," Garrett says. "Gray is just a normal chick when she steps out of the GM's office."

  And speak of the devil, Gray Brannon walks in alongside her father, the team's CEO, Brian Brannon, followed by Coach Pretore and the rest of the coaching staff. Ryker Evans brings up the rear, his eyes pinned to wife's ass. The voices in the room immediately go silent as all eyes swing their way, and then apparently planned without my knowledge, all of the players stand up and start clapping. The claps increase in staccato and volume. Cheers start ringing out, and then a low chant, "Gray, Gray, Gray, Gray."

  I stand up and do the same, not wanting to be a douche, and totally willing to give kudos where they're due. Gray Brannon turned this team into champions, and she did it against overwhelming opposition from players, coaches, executives, and fans across the country.

  Gray actually blushes, slides a grin to her dad, and then holds up her hands to quiet the team. When the sounds dissipate and the guys all start sitting back down, she says, "Okay, you big jerks, trying to make me girlie cry or something?"


  Everyone chuckles, and then her eyes harden. It's time for business.

  "We're going to win the Stanley Cup again this year," she says with not a hint of egotism in her voice. "Any questions?"

  Dead silence until someone behind me says, "Fucking right we are."

  "Exactly," she says, leveling a beaming smile at the person, and Christ...she is one gorgeous chick. No wonder Ryker fell for her. "Now, that's all I have. I'll turn it over to Coach Pretore."

  Gray and Brian Brannon both step back and lean against the wall. Coach Pretore steps up to the podium and rests his forearms on it. "We had a great team last year. We got a better team this year. But we must be humble and realize that it still takes hard work, perseverance, and unification as a team. I'm going to work you harder than you've ever worked before, and you're going to beg me to give you more. You, in turn, are going to reach deep into your gut for every game, and you're going to bleed victory for this organization. Am I right?"

  A chorus of guys echo out agreement, and the air vibrates with male testosterone eager to get out on the ice. Coach Pretore scans his men with proud eyes and nods his approval.

  "All right, we got some new members to the team. Let's take a moment so I can introduce them."

  Pretore reads from a list in front of him, alphabetical. Only three names before me and I'm the last.

  "Hawke Therrien," he says, and his eyes scan the rows until he sees me. With a lift of his chin, I stand from my seat and tuck my hands in my pocket while he reads my credentials. "You all know Hawke. Played the last seven years with the Titans. Originally from Toronto. Joined the Cape Breton Oilers when he was sixteen. Drafted by the Titans, third round. Small stint in the minors and has been on their first line the last five years. Won the James Norris Trophy twice."

  His eyes swing up to mine and he barks out, "Did I miss anything?"

  I can't help myself. "Yeah...my favorite beer is Molson and I can solve a Rubik's Cube in like twenty-seven minutes flat. I'm a fucking phenom."

  The entire room erupts in laughter and Coach snickers before nodding his head at me to sit back down. I drop into my seat, grateful to be out of the limelight, and Garrett punches me on the shoulder. "So glad you're here, dude."

  "Me too," I tell him sincerely. I feel really good about this year.

  "We have a new addition to our training staff," Coach Pretore says, and my gaze slides back down to him. My blood practically freezes in my veins when he adds, "Everyone welcome Vale Campbell to our team."

  From the very first row, a person I didn't even notice when I entered the room stands up. She turns and it's like a punch to my gut as her eyes come straight to mine. Just like the last time I looked into them, there's nothing there. Not really a hint of recognition, anger, indifference. They just stare at me a brief moment and then move away as she makes a cursory swipe of the room before sitting back down.

  "Vale is our new assistant athletic trainer. She's crossing sports, coming to us from Columbus, Ohio, where she spent the last two years as the Buckeyes' assistant AT. Her roots are in hockey, though, as her dad was the head trainer of the Cape Breton Oilers for many years--"

  Pretore stops and it suddenly dawns on him. His eyes snap up to mine and he says, "In fact, Therrien, you two might know each other?"

  I quickly peek at Vale, who's slumping down in her seat.

  Totally fucking awkward.

  "Yeah," I say, then give a little cough. "I know Vale."

  "Excellent," Pretore says, not picking up on the tension I'm feeling, and then looking back down at the paper before him. "Vale has excellent credentials...she's a board-certified AT and also has her certification as a strength and conditioning specialist, so men...get ready to get your asses kicked. She graduated with a bachelor's degree in kinesiology from Penn State and got her master's in exercise and sports medicine there as well. Originally from Sydney..."

  I tune Pretore out.

  Fuck...talk about a blast from my past. I hadn't thought of Vale in years. Well, that's not true. I've actually had some dirty dreams about her from time to time, but I haven't really thought about her or what we had together in years. That was something put firmly out of my mind when I walked out of her house seven years ago. True to my word, I called Vale that night when I landed in Pittsburgh.

  Just as I suspected, she didn't answer the phone. Didn't return my call. Didn't answer my texts.

  It took me a grand total of three days, and a gut full of fury and rage, before I cut her out of my thoughts. The anger was eating me up, the pain almost too much to bear. So for me, it was just easier to wipe her from my existence or I'd wallow in misery.

  I kept in touch with Oliver sporadically after I got to Pittsburgh, and he'd throw me an unsolicited bone about her every once in a while, but last I heard, she was still living in Sydney. But then Oliver and I drifted apart, sad to say probably all my fault because I'm a lousy fucking friend, and I just lost touch with everything from my past on Cape Breton.

  I put my head into the game literally and figuratively and I lived, ate, and breathed professional hockey. I made new friends...my teammates. When I went home on holidays, it wasn't back to Cape Breton to see Oliver and his family, it was back to Toronto to see my own. I partied hard in my downtime and I fucked around...a lot. Keeping track of old friends and moping over lost loves just wasn't my thing. I got over Vale Campbell and I moved on.

  Never in a million years thought we would ever cross paths again. And as evidenced by the hot flame of bubbling anger sitting low in my gut right now, I'm guessing that I'm still a bit pissed at her.

  I can't deny it, though, she's still a goddamn knockout. And so different than the last time I saw her. Not a single piercing on her face. Her black hair still long, but in a stylishly sleek fall down to her shoulders. She's conservatively dressed in a pair of khaki pants and a black Cold Fury polo shirt.

  Body is still slammin'.

  Noticed that when she stood up.

  And those eyes...I could see their crystal clarity from up here. Sexy as hell, but when they looked at me, not an ounce of warm recognition in them.

  Christ...I can't imagine what could turn red-hot passion and love into a fucking iceberg within her. Still the greatest mystery I'll ever be faced with.

  "There's a story there," Garrett mutters quietly as he leans his head toward me. Coach Pretore has finished with Vale's accolades and is now going over our practice schedule, which has already been emailed to all of us.

  I jerk and glance at him. "What's that?"

  "You and the new AT," he says with a knowing look.

  "Nah, man," I say in quick denial. "Just a girl I used to know."

  "Fucking liar," Garrett says emphatically. "When she looked at you, the air was so thick you could have cut it with a knife. I want the deets."

  I'm saved when Pretore says, "That's it, men. Your equipment is in your lockers. You have twenty minutes to get dressed, pretty yourselves up, and get on the ice for the team photo."

  I stand abruptly, but I can hear Garrett snicker before whispering to Alex. "There's definitely a story there."

  Ignoring him, I move into the aisle steps that lead down to the exit door. My eyes can't help themselves. They go immediately to Vale, who scrambles up out of her chair and follows the rest of the training staff out the door. Not a backward glance my way, and fuck...that pisses me off. She's the one that bailed on our relationship and she can't give me the courtesy of just saying hello?

  Fucking women.

  I'm definitely tying one on tonight. Something...anything to make me banish her from my thoughts once again.

  Chapter 2

  Vale

  "Get down from there, Vale," Hawke says to me gruffly, reaching his hand out.

  "Why? Afraid I'll fall?" I ask with a drunken grin. I level my arms out for balance, take another precarious step on the rough stone wall that runs along the Sydney River. A slight wobble and I right myself, but I don't miss the sound of the frustrated grunt t
hat Hawke lets out.

  "If you fall in, I don't want to have to come in after you," he says as he walks alongside me, his feet firmly on the path beside the wall.

  "You're a good swimmer," I tell him confidently, although my words are slurred a little. We'd decided to share a pint of bourbon, but I ended up taking a few longer pulls on it than Hawke did. Plus he outweighed me by almost eighty pounds. I was definitely drunk, while he was probably just sporting a nice buzz.

  Huh...all the better for him to come in after me should I fall.

  "I don't want to get wet," he grumbles, but I can hear it in the tone of his voice.

  He's worried.

  "Okay, let me do just one pirouette, show off my ballet skills--"

  "Christ, Vale," Hawke barks at me, and grabs my wrist. With a hard pull, I am indeed tumbling off the wall but not toward the river. Instead, I fall right down into Hawke's strong arms. "You're a nut job."

  "Am not," I breathe out as my breasts mash into his chest and his breath feathers across my face.

  "Are too," he murmurs as he looks down at me.

  It's dark, but I can see the half-moon reflected in his eyes. Even though he has the lightest of blue irises, they are dark with liquor and frustration and even a little bit of lust. I wrap my arms around his neck and tilt my head to look at the blackened sky. I smile at the stars and they smile back at me just before I turn my face to his again.

  I always thought I was a bit of a free bird. My father let me run wild--within certain limits--because what's a widowed father to do but dote on his only daughter and give into her every whim?

  But really, until I met Hawke, I was merely existing. Going through each day, one step at a time and closing my eyes at night without truly knowing my purpose.

  Now, my blood races constantly when we're together and I feel like I'm on the verge of conquering the world.

  I guess that's what love is all about.

  "So you wouldn't come in the river after me because you wouldn't want to get wet?" I ask playfully, my fingers sifting through the long hair at the back of his neck.

  "I wouldn't want you to break your neck," he says with a smirk, and then leans down to place his lips right at the spot he mentioned. He glides a kiss over my skin and a shiver runs up my spine. "It's a lovely neck."