Angels and Assists

by Mignon Mykel

  All three kids would have their own rooms and bathrooms, and the guest wing—which could be closed off from the rest of the house—had its own kitchenette. Everything still lived on one level; it simply sprawled out and deep, in a giant U-shape.

  With my hand linked with Molly’s, we walked toward the wide-spread open-concept living area, where, at the custom-built island, I pulled out a stool and helped Molly sit.

  “What’s the news?” I asked Anderson.

  This kid…

  Shit, he wasn’t a kid any longer. He was fourteen, a freshman in high school, and a first line defenseman on the area U18 travel-competition hockey team, where he played alongside Brandon Prescott.

  My kid had more peach-fuzz on his face now than I did at seventeen, and his voice continued to drop.

  But when he smiled…

  He still looked like my little boy.

  “Coach said the scouts at the college showcase liked my playing style!” Anderson’s eyes were bright, and his excitement was palpable. “That I could probably play Juniors, or even be drafted right away when I’m eighteen.” If there was one thing the kid had dreamed of, it was playing hockey like his old man.

  I thought of my own dad, the one I hadn’t seen in years. Oh, I’d heard from him, whenever he wanted something, but it was Molly who nipped that one in the bud. Since Molly answered the phone a little over two years ago, he hadn’t called back.

  She’d been a bit testy at the end of her pregnancy with Peri, I thought with a chuckle.

  “Dad!”

  “Sorry, Andy. I was thinking.” My dad wasn’t important, anyway; I had family.

  My family was standing in this kitchen—and sleeping in my bed.

  My family was scattered around San Diego—players, their families, and even our Quebec family, who were out here for the holiday season. It was Christmas, after all, and while they were told they could stay in the house today, the Gagnons and Perris chose to spend the day out and about.

  “That’s exciting, right? Can you imagine? Another Leeds on the ice? Shoot, old man, maybe I can play the year you retire. How cool would that be?”

  I laughed, shaking my head. “One, you know I’m retiring this year. Two, you’re going to college.” I moved around the large kitchen island to grab a glass of water.

  “But—”

  I shook my head, turning off the filter knob and bringing the glass to my mouth, taking a large gulp as I moved back toward Molly. Handing the glass to her so she could finish it, I wiped the back of my other hand over my mouth, shaking my head again. “You’re going to college. Too many hockey players get hurt or end their careers, and don’t know what the hell to do with their lives. You’re going to college.”

  Anderson’s mood deflated a little. “But Dad…”

  “Anderson.” I raised my brows, my tone no-nonsense. “You’re a good player. A great one. That’s not going to change because you spend four years playing collegiate hockey. If you do juniors, stay in the states. Play a year. Go to college. Then go pro. You have so many people at your back, you’ll play pro.” Of that, I had no doubt.

  My son grumbled again, and I stepped toward him, pulling him in and pounding on his back as I grinned. “That’s really exciting though. Keep playing smart, and you’ll be fine.”

  “I know,” he mumbled.

  My voice low and for his ears only, I told him words I never heard from my old man. “I’m proud of you.” I hit his back two more times before stepping back. “Now, go get ready for your game.”

  The only bad part to Anderson’s U18 schedule was sometimes we played on the same days. Moll and I would pack up Peri, go watch Anderson’s first period, then Caleb Prescott and I would head to the arena, our wives and kids heading out after the boys’ game.

  Anderson grumbled again, but I could see he was fighting a smile, as he left for his room. Turning back to my wife, I took in her tired expression, one she tried to hide with a smile.

  “You going to make it?” I asked, stepping close. Putting my hands on her knees, I pushed them apart gently, so I could stand between them. She shifted in the stool, no doubt her hips giving her issues. She was so fucking uncomfortable.

  Which made me feel bad, but also excited.

  This baby was coming soon.

  “We’re good,” she answered, a small smile on her face as she tipped her chin up.

  I brushed my lips over hers, once, then twice, before grinning. “What do you think? A Christmas baby?”

  Molly smiled, but her tone was exasperated. “God, if this baby doesn’t come out by the 25th, I’m going to beg for an induction. Heck, a C-section; take this baby out.”

  Once upon a time, the 23rd of December would come, and I’d be in a fuzz of dread. But once I took in what was always in front of me, once I learned to allow Molly in…

  I lived for this day.

  Once a day of sadness, it now was a day of excitement.

  And today?

  Today was the best. The anticipation…

  “Are you sure you’re good with the games? Maybe you should keep things low-key.”

  Okay, so I still worried a little on this day, and I probably would only worry more as the afternoon and night deepened.

  “We’ll be fine. Besides, I’ll be with Sydney, Asher, and the kids. We’ll be fine,” she repeated, no doubt, placating me. Or maybe, she was trying to convince herself. Maybe… “Mike.” Molly’s voice cut through, and I realized my eyes had unfocused, as my mind began moving at uncertain speeds. “I promise,” she said, her hands going to my waist. “We’re fine. Now, kiss me before your monster wakes up.”

  “She has your temper. I don’t know why you call her my monster,” I laughed, as she hooked a foot behind my knee, pulling.

  “Kiss me. For real. Or else you’ll see that temper.”

  I didn’t need to be told again. Not because I was afraid of her temper; she wasn’t that bad. She just stewed quietly, sometimes slamming dishes harder than necessary.

  But because I craved her taste.

  Her mouth soft against mine.

  Her tongue sliding over mine.

  Her sighs melting into mine.

  With my hands on her face, threading back into her hair, I tipped her face up and gave my wife what she asked for.

  * * *

  I nearly played like shit, constantly looking up to where I knew my family was. Molly made it through Anderson’s game—a game they won. And before this game, everyone was down on the Plexiglas during warm-ups, Peri on Anderson’s shoulders as she pounded the ‘glas above his head, and Molly sitting in a seat.

  She looked fine, but I still asked the Prescott wives to keep a close eye on her.

  Molly was having this baby tonight; I felt it in my bones. Hell, I was terrified she’d go into labor during the game…not that I told her that. On the way to the IcePlex with Anderson, I’d asked her again if she was doing alright but my wife was convinced the doctors were going to have to cut this baby out of her.

  Other than her being tired all the time, and the moments of manic temper, she’d had Braxton Hicks contractions with Peri for an entire week before our daughter decided to grace us with her presence. So, because she hadn’t had them yet, she was even more sure she was going to go past her due date with this baby.

  I wasn’t convinced.

  …and because of the ever-slight differences, I was nervous as hell that it would all happen when I was on the ice.

  Each rest intermission, I sat bouncing my knee. Nico tried talking to me during the first, but eventually, everyone left me alone. Caleb even assured me, when we walked back to the bench and ice for third period, that if something happened, Sydney would get word to us…

  Still didn’t help.

  Did they not know my stubborn wife?

  Hell, she could have been having contractions, but because she knew what this day had the ability to do to me, she’d sit there, in fucking pain, holding a baby in.

  She’d…
>
  The final buzzer finally sounded, and I stood quickly from the bench, pissed that I managed to make it to the middle and had to wait for twelve of my teammates to make it off. We’d won and were expected on the ice to celebrate and basically wish the fans a Merry Christmas, but I was itching to gather my wife and kids…and be completely sure Molly was still okay.

  Hell, I’d welcome being wrong about the baby. Just for today.

  As I got to the end of the bench and near the coaching staff, ready to do my duty as an Enforcer and step out on the ice, Caleb caught my eyes and tipped his head toward the tunnel. “Go.”

  My heart stopped.

  “She’s fine,” he added, chuckling, as I neared. “But I received a message she’s uncomfortable.”

  I stepped to the side to let the other guys through. “Did Moll say it?” If Molly told Sydney she was uncomfortable, that meant this baby was coming now. The stubborn woman wouldn’t say something unless—

  “No, but Syd says she looks more uncomfortable now, than this afternoon. We’re heading home tonight,” no doubt meaning Wisconsin, “but call if anything happens.”

  I nodded, a different set of nerves settling in, and turned away. Caleb backhanded my shoulder before I could step too far away. “Congrats, Leeds.”

  * * *

  Two-minutes before midnight, Austin Michael Leeds made his entrance into the world.

  No cutting required.

  -

  Did you enjoy Mikey and Molly’s story?

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  Continue reading for a look at both Interference and 32: Refuse to Lose.

  The next book to release will be (drum roll….)

  Jonny Prescott, with Butterfly Save!

  Interference

  Note: Interference takes place thirteen years before the beginning of 25: Angels and Assists.

  Caleb

  I shouldn’t have gone to O’Gallaghers with Jonny last night.

  I pulled my pillow from under my head and, face planting into the mattress, pushed the sides as close to my ears as possible. Anything to block out the annoying ring of my cell phone.

  Last night, San Diego won. As was tradition, Jon Jon and I went out on the town. Sometimes the other guys on the team would come along but for the most part, it was just me and the kid brother. Back in our peewee hockey days, mom would take us to McDonald’s; in college, the one year he and I attended at the same time, we would party in my dorm. Now, we went out, partied long and hard, and of course, shut it down. Most of the bartenders looked the other way with some of the younger athletes in town, and we could always count on Conor O’Gallagher. Rumor had it the O’Gallaghers were a little rough around the edges. Probably why Conor was willing to overlook Jonny not quite being twenty-one yet.

  Both Jonny and I had been drafted to the San Diego Enforcers. During my senior year of college, Jonny’s freshman year, we both walked into training camp as college kids with great stats, and walked out with spots on the roster. Sure, the Prescott name means something to the organization, but Jonny was a damn good goaltender, and my stats were better than dad’s in the respect he didn’t touch majors until he was in his mid-twenties, having played in the American league for a few years beforehand.

  Last night’s win meant the Enforcers were that much closer to Sir Stanley and his Cup. Finals were well within our reach. All we had to do was win Tuesday night’s game and we’d make it into the next round. It was a close series, but the odds were in our favor. With Jonny in net, Vegas had to pull all the punches to get the puck past him.

  I sighed blissfully when my phone finally stopped ringing, but just as I was about to drop off that sharp edge of sleep, Jonny slammed my bedroom door open. I lifted the pillow enough to look over my shoulder at the intrusion, watching as my boxer-clad brother tossed the cordless house phone onto my bed, bouncing off my hamstring–a little too close for comfort.

  “Fucking asshole.”

  Jonny merely raised a dark blond brow. Oh, the perks of sharing a condo with your younger brother.

  I guess it could be worse. My sisters weren’t exactly the easiest to live with.

  “Next time, wake up and answer your damn phone,” Jonny grumbled. “There’s a lady on the other end, and I don’t think she much appreciated my sarcasm.”

  I reached back for the phone with one hand as I tossed the pillow aside with the other, before shooting Jonny the bird. As I put the phone to my ear, I watched my twenty-year old brother shuffle back toward his own room. “Caleb,” I said on the exhale of a tired sigh.

  “Um, hi,” came the voice on the other end. Female, like Jonny said. Not high pitched, but not as sexy and throaty as some female voices were. Nervous, maybe. I didn’t think I knew her voice, and the landline number was pretty locked down, so she couldn’t be some weird stalker chick. I squeezed my eyes shut briefly. Way too much thinking for this hour.

  “I’m so sorry that this seems to be an inopportune time. I figured you’d be up and moving, as it’s ten.” Was it ten already? “I thought that was the time you started practice on game days. I’m on a tight deadline and was really hoping to just leave a message.” Ah, she didn’t expect to actually talk to me.

  “And this is…” I stated, not asked, before yawning.

  “I’m sorry,” she apologized again. “My name is Sydney Meadows and I’m calling on behalf of Sorenson Media Group. I tried to reach you through your agent, but he directed me straight to you.”

  I made a mental note to talk to Mark the first chance I got. He really needed to stop directing people to me. Wasn’t that his job? To figure out what appearances and gigs were best for his athletes when they weren’t doing what they were being paid to do? Fuck, Mark knew I didn’t like to sign up for the extra things that came with being a pro-athlete. Events with the team, sure. Gigs at the rink, absolutely. But beyond that, it was a hard no.

  “We are putting together a reality television series, and you are one of the names we were interested in having involved with the show,” she stated in a rehearsed manner.

  I didn’t think sleep was going be coming back to me anytime soon, so I rolled over onto my back before throwing my legs over the side of the bed. As I stood, I shook my head. “Yeah, sorry. No reality TV.”

  “If you’d just let me pitch it to you—“

  “That’s all you’re going to be doing, Miss Meadows. Do you really want to waste your breath? I’m not doing television.”

  “That’s fine,” she rushed to say. As she began talking about multiple women and just as many dates, I strode naked to my dresser to pull out a pair of old, worn sweatpants. I pulled them on while listening with one ear. She continued to talk, so I continued to move, walking out of my room and down the hall that was home to both mine and Jonny’s rooms, a spare room, and a bathroom, before walking barefooted down the stairs. Whenever she’d pause for an answer, I was sure to give a barely verbal ‘mmhm’ just so she would continue her rant and be closer to done.

  I had sisters. I knew how to work a phone call with the long-winded female species.

  “So great,” she said finally, with a smile evident in her voice, so unlike the unsure tone at the beginning of our conversation, one-sided as it mostly was. “I will meet you tonight after your game. Thank you so much, Caleb. I promise you, you won’t be disappointed.”

  Standing in front of the fridge now, I frowned when I heard the telltale sign of her ending the call. I pulled the phone from my ear only to stare down at the ‘call ended’ screen, the frown not going anywhere.

  Well shit…

  What did I just agree to?

  Haven’t read Caleb and Sydney’s story?

  Grab Interference today!

  32: Refuse to Lose

  trevor

  “You doing anything Saturday?” my captain and best friend, Caleb, asked as we left hockey practice on a
Tuesday afternoon. We’d been playing together for the last nine years and both of us should be nearing the end of our careers…but we were still kickin’.

  Kickin’ ass and taking names.

  We had a game tomorrow night and I was looking forward to having the next twenty hours to myself—the one place where I felt my age showed. All the twenty-year-olds were dying to make an impression, hitting the ice at every moment to prove a point, but me? I’d been with the Enforcers for nine years and just resigned another five-year, multi-million-dollar deal.

  I wasn’t going anywhere. I had nothing to prove. I’d be skipping the optional morning skate tomorrow, instead keeping the company of a five-year-old girl after school, as her mom put together a custom cookie order as part of her company, sugar&spice.

  A five-year-old girl and her mom, who just happened to be the daughter and ex-wife of an old teammate.

  It hadn’t been announced yet, but rumor around the locker room was he was coming back to San Diego. Marlo—my friend and the ex-wife—didn’t know yet, as far as I knew. Marlo and Jordan’s relationship was rocky, at best, and I was prepared for a full shit-storm to hit when he got into town.

  So, I had no problem hanging out with those two tomorrow before my pre-game rituals. As for Saturday, it was one of the rare weekend dates we didn’t have a game and I was planning on taking advantage of it—especially considering that starting next week, we’d be in a rigorous playoff schedule.

  “Relaxing. Kicking my feet up. Pounding back a beer or two or ten.”

  “Why don’t you do it at the house? Most of the family will be in town. Ace graduated.”

  Ace was Caleb’s youngest sister, Avery, and she’d been going to school to be a sport agent. No doubt her brothers—there were three of them total—were excited. “Why’s she having the party here?”

  “No party. Just hanging out at the house.” Then, Caleb slapped the back of his hand at my shoulder. “She’s in talks with the club. Wants to oversee a few of the players.”