Hot on Ice: A Hockey Romance Anthology

by Avery Flynn

After three months, she had no more tears for that failed relationship. The only evidence that she and Brian had ever lived together sat patiently at her feet, waiting for her to acknowledge it.

  She patted the space next to her on the plastic-covered couch and Jasmine, her white Persian cat, jumped up and settled at her side. Absentmindedly, Suji stroked the animal. The tactile memories brought on by such a simple act would probably always assault her, she mused.

  Running from the car with Brian, in the pouring rain, to the house with the sign in the yard that read Free Kittens.

  Bringing a five-week-old Jasmine to their new home and play-arguing over her name.

  Spending an obscene amount of money at PetWorld to make Jasmine’s little corner of the living room a cat haven.

  Nearly four years later, surrounded by moving boxes and the smell of fresh paint, Suji looked around at the skeletal remains of what she once thought would be the rest of her life with Brian, and tried to name the emotion she felt.

  “Empty,” she said to Jasmine as she got up and got back to work.

  Jasmine only yawned.

  “Suji?”

  “Back here, Amri.”

  “Jesus. How did I not know you were a hoarder?” Suji’s sister, Amrita, worked her slender, five-foot-eleven-inch frame through the maze of stacked boxes and into the spare bedroom. She stopped in the doorway, shaking her head.

  Suji touched-up the paint around the window trim. “What?”

  “Why are you doing that?” Amrita ambled over to her.

  “I want my security deposit back.”

  “Suji, this place is immaculate. You’d think no one ever lived here at all, much less two people and…” She picked a clump of white hair off her black t-shirt. “A molting cat.”

  She brushed her hands on her jeans.

  They both watched as the clump fell to the hardwood floor and Amrita slid it to the side with the toe of her sandal. She started to run a hand over her thick, dark chocolate hair but seemed to change her mind at the last second, using the inside of her forearm instead.

  Suji stood from her crouching position and took in the state of the room. “Yeah, I guess it is pretty spic-and-span, aside from a few furballs.”

  It was much like the rest of the two-bedroom apartment, crisp and clean, aside from the multitude of boxes and bags awaiting the movers. She placed her brush into the small can of white touch-up paint and removed her gloves, tossing them onto the protective plastic covering the floor.

  The sun poured in through the bay window, catching Amrita in a pool of light. Her tawny skin and dark, cinnamon hair framed by gold.

  Suji found herself staring at her sister. She’d always thought of herself as attractive enough, but at that moment she felt like a sack of potatoes standing in the same room as Amrita.

  “Do I work too much?”

  Amri burst into laughter.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Wait, were you asking a serious question?” Amri wiped her eyes and caught her breath.

  “I think you just answered it.” Suji sighed. “No wonder Brian left.”

  “Oh, fuck that noise,” Amri snapped. “I don’t want to hear another word about that asshole.”

  “He wanted to spend more time with me, but since I took over as Head Nurse, I haven’t had a lot of free time.”

  “Hey, I know. But Brian wanted a little woman by his side, not someone with a career,” Amrita assured her. “You’ve always been super driven. It’s why you are where you are at thirty-years-old.”

  “Yeah, but…”

  “Nope! No buts.”

  “Okay,” Suji acquiesced. “Okay.”

  “Are things still crazy in Pediatrics?”

  Suji sighed. “The budget cuts are ridiculous. We’re using outdated equipment, and the ward is often over-crowded. I’m lucky I have a great staff, and the Head of Pediatrics understands what we’re dealing with, but if we don’t get a fresh infusion of grant money or a major donor, we’re going to have to start turning away patients.”

  Amri frowned. “But I thought you guys became solvent when the university bought the hospital.”

  Suji snorted. “It helped, but not enough. There’s supposed to be some big, new initiative announced soon. Oh, and while I was out on vacation, they schedule some pro athlete to come in and do a photo op. I think they hope it’ll drum up some new donors.”

  “By the tone of your voice and that sour puss face, I guess you’re not a big fan of this idea.”

  Suji’s skin prickled with renewed agitation. She’d nearly gone over to the hospital to rip someone a new one when she got a voicemail telling her the event had been scheduled behind her back. Okay, technically, it wasn’t her ward, it was the department head's. And Dr. Calvin Morris was excellent at his job, in addition to being a wonderful pediatrician.

  No, Suji didn’t have a problem with her boss, other than the fact that he’d agreed to host this sports carnival, subjecting her…their…patients to who knows what kind of exploitative exposure.

  Well, not on her watch.

  “I go back to work tomorrow, and I’m going to put a stop to it.”

  “I thought the department needed the money,” Amrita so helpfully pointed out.

  Suji shook her head. “Not this badly, not enough to exploit the kids.”

  “You’re making a pretty big assumption, there.”

  “Better safe than sorry.”

  Amri shrugged. “Okay. I get it, and the kids are lucky to have you. Hell, we’re all lucky to have you. Fuck Brian’s saggy-jeans-ass.”

  Suji barked out a laugh.

  “Have I told…you lately that I love you,” she sang using her best Rod Stewart voice as she sauntered over to her sister.

  Amrita threw her a look of amused disbelief.

  “Have I told you…there’s no one else…above you.” Suji grabbed her and pulled her into an awkward slow dance.

  “You, my dear sister, are one sick puppy.”

  Suji let her go, laughing. “You know you love it.”

  She grabbed a marker and a stack of labels and began marking the boxes.

  To her surprise, Amrita did the same without Suji having to beg. Amri and manual labor of any kind mixed like oil and water.

  “Is any of this stuff Brian’s?” Amri smoothed an air bubble out of one label marked DVDs.

  “Please. No.” Suji exhaled. “There’d be three times as many boxes if he were still here.” She looked out the window as the moving truck pulled up. “Of course, I wouldn’t be moving if he were still here.”

  Amri sighed. “Su…“

  “I know. I just…I’m beginning to doubt I’ll ever meet Mr. Right.”

  “Just make sure you steer clear of any more Mr. Wrongs. I hate seeing you like this.”

  “Brian wasn’t Mr. Wrong, Amrita. He was just Mr. Right Now.” She laughed mirthlessly. “Or Mr. Right Then.”

  “Mr. Left, maybe?” Amrita joked.

  “I’d settle for Mr. Mover.” The sound of a rumbling engine drew Suji’s attention back to the window. “And here they come.”

  “Good,” Amri said brightly. “Let’s get your stuff over to your new place and then we can head to Skinner’s to celebrate.”

  “Celebrate what?”

  Amrita walked over to Suji, a mischievous grin tugging at her plum-stained lips. “It’s been three months, big sister. I think it’s time to let your hair down. Maybe find a hottie to have some mindless fun with.”

  She tugged on Suji’s scrunchy and the messy bun she had on the top of her head came tumbling down.

  “Hey!”

  “Look at you.” Amrita stepped back and gave her a once-over. “You’re letting all of this go to waste, sweetie. Let some hot, young buck get all up in there and work out your kinks.”

  Suji rolled her eyes. “I don’t do one-night-stands, Amri.”

  She had never been able to adopt the casual attitude toward sex and dating that her sister, and most of thei
r friends, had. Sex for the sake of sex left a bad taste in her mouth, at least in theory. It wasn’t something she’d ever actually put into practice. She’d never begrudge any woman from indulging in whatever safe practices she wanted, with however many partners she chose. As for herself…

  “That’s your problem right there,” Amrita argued. “You have such black and white views about relationships. No one’s telling you to have a one-night-stand, per se. I’m just suggesting that we go out tonight, have a few drinks with the girls, and see who might be on the menu. You might meet your first fuckbuddy.” She grinned.

  “Fuckbuddy?”

  “Or whatever.” Amrita waved it off, averting her eyes.

  “Nope. No suggestions of any kind there, Amri.” Suji chuckled. “All right. If we finish at a decent time, I’ll go.”

  “Excellent!” Amrita whipped out her phone. “I’ll text Joanna and Lovie. May as well make a Friday night of it.”

  2

  Zim stepped into Skinner’s and was immediately impressed by the feel of the place, whisky-soaked and welcoming. He’d never been to Scotland, but the polished brass and gleaming wood made him feel like he was about to get a taste of it. The pub was big, larger than it appeared from the outside. But as large as it was, it was still cozy. A place where someone could find a dark corner to sit in and not be bothered.

  “Well, look who finally decided to drop in,” said a familiar voice.

  “Yo, Cam.” Zim accepted a clapping hug from his friend. “How are ya?”

  “I’m good, thanks.” Camden Skinner, owner of the establishment and an old friend from Zim’s college days, smiled and clasped his shoulder. “When I saw you back in July, you said you would come check out my new place.”

  Zim rubbed the back of his neck. He sucked when it came to social niceties. “Yeah, sorry about not getting over here sooner.”

  Camden smiled. Sort of. He wasn’t an excitable guy, which was one of the reasons they’d gotten along at school. While the rest of the student body seemed to lose its collective mind every weekend attending party after party after binge-drinking party, he and Cam – and Cam’s brother, Pierce – had found common ground in simply watching it all play out.

  One favorite pastime was to watch drunk assholes stumble across the quad and take bets. Who would fuck whom? Who would pass out on the grass? Who would end up expelled before the end of the semester?

  “I’m here now.”

  “Better late than never,” the other man agreed.

  Zim followed Camden to the end of the bar, admiring the sheer volume of colorful taps. He took the last stool and picked up the laminated menu.

  Camden continued around and through the opening on the side until he stood on the other side. He placed a coaster in from of Zim and then braced his arms on the bar-top.

  “So, what do you think?”

  “It’s nice, Cam. Really.” Zim flipped the menu. “Whoa. Especially this big-ass list of what’s on tap.”

  Camden laughed. “You know me. I love my ale. Fancy anything in particular? Or you want me to make a suggestion?”

  “Gimme something dark.”

  “A stout?” Cam was already preparing a pint glass.

  “That’ll work.” Zim nodded. “So, what made you decide to open a pub? Are things slow with Skin?”

  Camden and his brother had opened a business a few years back, The Skin Agency. Zim didn’t know much about what they did but knew that it brought in quite a bit of money for the both of them.

  Cam grunted. “Skin is fine.”

  Zim arched an eyebrow. He watched as Cam pulled the perfect pint of Belhaven Stout. The creamy head floating over the dark chocolate ale made his mouth water.

  “And Pierce?”

  “Pierce is Pierce.”

  Evidently, Cam wasn’t in the mood to talk about his brother, and Zim wasn’t about to press.

  Camden picked up a flat metal object and scraped off some of the foam, leaving the top of the pint perfectly smooth. He set it down in front of Zim, folded his arms, and waited for him to take a sip.

  So he did. “Fuck.”

  The other man smiled, and Zim could almost see teeth. “Aye. S’good, right?”

  “Perfect, thanks.”

  Zim glanced around the pub, noting the nooks and corners filled with darkened booths, velvet-covered benches, and upholstered leather chairs. On the far wall in the back was a dart board. Signs advertising various products lined the walls, brands that Zim assumed were Scottish. He liked the place, it had character. But it was also pretty empty.

  “Did you just open for the day?”

  “We were slammed for lunch from noon to two, but there won’t be anyone in here again until around five when happy hour starts. After that, we’ll have a steady crowd until we close at two in the morning.”

  There were only three or four other people in the bar, which suited Zim just fine. He’d duck out when the crowd started to thicken.

  “So, what have you been doing with yerself all summer?” Camden leaned against the back counter.

  “Did some work with a youth hockey camp up in the Poconos, and there’s a college kid in my neighborhood that I’ve been working with too.” Zim took a sip of his beer, closing his eyes to savor it. “Damn, that’s good.”

  “Thanks,” Cam replied. “You think you might coach when you retire?”

  “I hadn’t thought about it, but I did enjoy working with the kids.”

  “I bet the youngins’ were thrilled to skate with a Cup champion.”

  Zim shrugged. “I didn’t even bring it up. When they did mention it, I made sure they knew it took a hell of a lot of work to get your hands on that trophy.”

  Camden chuckled. “Oh, I’m sure ye did.”

  “Meaning?”

  The other man straightened. Grabbing a rag from behind the counter, he wiped down the bartop. “You and my nagshead brother, both so focused on your goals you don’t stop to appreciate what you’ve done. What you could do.”

  “I do appreciate it,” Zim argued. “I just don’t go around bragging about it. I didn’t win the Cup by myself.”

  “No one said ye did, mate,” Cam replied.

  He ran a hand through his black hair. It was longer than Zim had remembered and stuck out in all directions.

  “Anyway…did you manage to have any fun on your break? You’re heading back down for training soon, right?”

  “The camp was fun.”

  “That’s not the kind of fun I mean,” Cam smirked. “Tell me you at least got laid. I can’t imagine the amount of play you can get after winning something like that.”

  “No comment. But, hey, I get the Cup all to myself in a few days. I could let you borrow it,” Zim joked. “Use it for a pussy magnet.”

  Camden scoffed. “As if I need a fecking trophy for that.”

  Zim lifted his glass. “Touché.”

  Camden was a good looking guy, broad and fit. He’d never had any trouble finding women willing to take a walk through the Highlands with him.

  “Hey, you mentioned something about starting a foundation? In Mila’s memory?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I think that’s fantastic, mate. How is it coming together? Do you need anything from me? I have a lot of connections, you know.”

  “You do, don’t you?” Zim eyed him, his mind shifting gears. “I’ll be sure to pick your brain about that. But, yeah, things are coming together. I’m trying to get it off the ground before I leave. Eva, my attorney, she’s got the legal stuff under control. My job is to talk to the beneficiary.”

  “Have you chosen one?”

  “Yeah, and I have a meeting with them tomorrow before we hold a benefit announcing the venture.”

  Camden nodded. “Good, good. I’m sure they’ll appreciate the help.” A commotion at the door drew his attention, and he glanced at his watch. “That’ll be five o’clock.”

  Zim turned to see a group of people stroll in and head to a large booth
. Dressed in suits, the mix of men and women were clearly part of the TGIF, after-work crowd.

  A tall, blond kid who looked like he was barely twenty-one darted over to them.

  “That one,” Camden nodded over toward the waiter. “He’s as clueless as you are when it comes to the fairer sex.”

  Zim turned slowly back to him. “Clueless? I’m not fucking clueless, dude, I just…I don’t have time for games. Women play games. Hell, men play games too.”

  “Some games are fun,” Camden retorted, his grin wide and downright evil. He leaned in conspiratorially. “Say you go over to that table, right? That redhead’s a pretty one. You could go over there, introduce yourself, tell ‘em you’re friends with the owner. Offer ‘em a drink. On you, of course.”

  “Of course.” Zim rolled his eyes.

  “Ask what they do - lawyers, by the look of them,” Camden said, disdainfully. “They ask what you do, and you tell them.” He snapped his fingers. “Instant damp panties, mate.”

  “Jesus.” Zim laughed.

  “What?” Camden held his arms wide.

  “I don’t need tips on how to pick up women, Cam.”

  “Prove me wrong.”

  “I am not going over there. Shit, can’t a man just enjoy his second pint in peace?”

  Camden smiled. “Was that your way of asking for another?”

  “It was.”

  Two pints turned into four and, as the evening went on, the pub filled up. The music got louder. And Zim felt more relaxed than he had in a long time. He ended up in conversation with a fan of Philadelphia’s hockey team. Locals were ride-or-die for the men in orange and black, and Zim loved their passion. He’d grown up watching them play and admired the organization.

  “I’m just saying,” the guy drawled, several pints of St. Andrew’s in his belly. His malty breath filled the space between them as they talk-shouted over the noise. “New Orleans got lucky in the conference final. No one expected Phoenix to play as shitty as they did.”

  “You don’t think it’s because people underestimated the Rage?”

  “Fuck, no,” the guy spat. “Bunch of overrated pussies, except for that guy Donnelly. He’s fast as fuck. The defense is pretty solid too.”

  “Yeah,” Camden chimed in. “Subzero is a beast.”