Off Duty (Shots On Goal Standalone Book 6)

by Kristen Hope Mazzola

  The light shining through the window stung my tired eyes as I groggily started to wake up. I had no idea what time I had actually crashed the day before. I’d barely even had time to turn the lights off before I hit the pillow and passed out, let alone undress, take off my makeup, or look at the clock.

  Rolling over, bright red numbers blared eleven fifteen at me as my stomach started to rumble. After peeling myself from the pillow-topped mattress that felt like a lumpy heaven, I dug through the duffle bag that contained my life until I found my favorite pair of jeans and a yoga top.

  I glanced at the bright red smear on the pillow from my favorite lipstick and the black dots from my mascara. Thankfully I was not the one that was going to have to wrestle with those stains.

  Within minutes the faucet was pumping steaming water into the tub. A nice long soak felt like a dream for my tired body. The trip hadn’t been emotional until it all crashed onto me as I sunk to the bottom of that porcelain bath. I was free. I was finally freaking free, and I felt bad about it.

  The image of my mom figuring out that I was gone broke into my mind and ripped my heart apart. But who was I kidding? If she hadn’t started blowing up my phone yet, she had no idea. She was probably still in a haze of meth and booze from another week-long binge.

  Right before I left, I could tell that’s where she was heading anyway. It was the perfect time to escape: I would be so far gone by the time she was halfway conscious that it wouldn’t matter.

  “Critter!” Her hollow cry came from the back bedroom.

  I rolled my eyes at her dumbass nickname for me. Wasn’t my real name bad enough?

  “Yeah Ma?”

  “Get me a fucking coke from the fridge.”

  I grabbed the last can of soda from the barren wasteland she called a refrigerator.

  I hurriedly popped the top and walked it back to her where she was laying in bed, sick as a dog from yet another withdrawal.

  “Here. I gotta get to work.”

  Her shaking hand wrapped around the can as her sunken, dark eyes begged me for mercy. She didn’t have to ask; I knew what I needed to do.

  “Yeah. I think Vinnie is working tonight. I’ll see what I can get.”

  “That’s my girl. Thank you, Crit.”

  “I’ll be back late though. Try to sleep and don’t let anyone come over with you sick like this. I don’t want this place to get robbed again.”

  I snapped out of my daze of strolling down terrible memory lane when the sound of splattering water echoed in the tiny bathroom. Looking over the side of the tub, I realized about half an inch of water was starting to coat the off white tiles.

  Shit.

  I lunged for the faucet, turned off the water, and sunk back in to relax and let my fingers and toes get pruney. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had time to relax like that. The quiet and the peacefulness were almost disturbing. It was a far cry from the cursing, fighting neighbors and my mom hollering at me or moaning in some john’s ear all the time.

  Good riddance to all that bull crap.

  Giving in to my roaring stomach, I drained the water and got dressed. I laid towels on the floor of my soaking wet bathroom to lap up the water that had spilled over.

  I made my way to the closest Waffle House my phone’s GPS could find. Luckily it was just up the road and I had a hankering for greasy cooking and a pot of coffee. I quickly scarfed down some scattered, smothered, covered, and chunked hashbrowns with two eggs over easy on the side and tried to think about what my next move was going to be.

  Not having a plan was both liberating and frustrating. I knew that the money I had was going to go faster than I could admit to myself. I checked the classified section for jobs while I sipped on hours-old coffee. I wasn’t really built to be a stable hand, and I didn’t think there was a strip joint in Vilas.

  As I was getting up to pay my check, Holt and the older bartender walked through the front door. Holt ambled over to me with a sweet smile on his face.

  “Nice to see you haven’t left our little town yet. Thinkin’ about sticking around?” He spit into a Dixie cup and I could smell the wintergreen chew that was wadded up in his lower lip.

  I held up the paper and shrugged. “A girl’s gotta eat and there ain’t any jobs here for me it seems.”

  “Hey Bucky, aren’t we still looking for a daytime bartender?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, the one Abel hired last week quit on me Monday night.”

  “Well there ya have it. I’ll talk to Abel about it. Come by in a few hours and we’ll get ya all set up.”

  Just like that I had a freaking job in a town I wasn’t even sure I was going to stay in. At least I knew I was going to be able to keep a roof over my head and hopefully finance another move, if nothing else.

  UNACCEPTABLE

  An Unacceptables MC Romance

  By Kristen Hope Mazzola

  Available now to order!

  Cross Checked

  Sneak Peek

  A Shots On Goal

  Standalone Romance

  by Kristen Hope Mazzola

  Prologue

  Brayden

  I could hear the muffled sounds of my mom talking on the phone as the strong aroma of maple bacon woke me up. Within seconds, I was down in the kitchen, listening to grease pop in the pan as she scrambled eggs, the black house phone pinned between her cheek and right shoulder. She smiled sweetly at me, mouthing, “Good morning, honey.”

  “I will see you on Monday with those damn papers finally signed and in hand. Talk to you then.” My mom put the cordless back onto the charging cradle on the counter next to her, her dirty blonde hair swept up into its usual low ponytail. I took a seat at the breakfast table and watched her cook as she hummed to herself.

  “What has you in such a good mood this morning?” I asked.

  With her singsong voice, my mother beamed at me. “I am going to get those divorce papers signed today if it is the last thing I do.”

  Her red and green flannel pajamas were starting to fade a little, but they were her favorites. With my dad gone, I realized so many more things about my mom—the little things, the things that really mattered. The way she practically danced around the kitchen while she was cooking, the way she was always awake before us, the fact that even though she had every reason to be depressed and sulk her life away, my mother took life by storm.

  “What are you going to do? We’ve sent them to the jerk at least a dozen times. He keeps refusing.”

  “Your sister and I are going up there later today. He won’t be able to say no to our faces. I mean, your sister’s puppy eyes and my cold, heartless glare are the perfect recipe to get him to finally divorce me.” She laughed a little, a silent chuckle that lit up her makeup-less face.

  “Do you really think that is a good idea?” Right then, my stomached started to growl; one thing mom was definitely good at was making me hungry as all hell.

  She stared blankly at me while portioning out scrambled eggs and bacon onto plates for us. “Honestly, Brayden, I have run out of options.” The defeat that washed over her small frame broke my heart. I knew that all she wanted was to be done with my father, once and for all, but he was putting up too much of a fight and it was starting to wear on all of us. I hated how it had started a rift in the family, but I also owed it to my mom and sister to be honest about my feelings. It was my responsibility to protect them from him.

  I sighed. “I just feel like there are other ways to handle this. It is just going to upset you and Myla while giving him something he wants—to see you.”

  My mom and I sat eating in silence for a couple of minutes. I hated disagreeing with her, but I had strong feelings when it came to anything to do with my father and she had raised me to speak my mind.

  “I have to get ready for practice.” I shoved away from the table. If I couldn’t talk mom out of going to see the jerk of the century, maybe there was hope with Myla.

  I trudged up the stairs, lightly tappi
ng on her half-open door. “Hey sis, have a sec?” The squeaky old wood flooring made my presence known before the words escaped my throat. My sister Myla was sitting on the edge of her bed reading as I made my way into her pink and gold covered bedroom. I could tell she wanted to be left alone, but we needed to talk. Ever since our father had been sent to prison, the entire family was barely keeping it together, but Myla was taking it the worst.

  She glanced up at me over a worn-out hardcover copy of one of her cherished Harry Potter books. “What’s up, Brayden?”

  I took a seat next to her, taking a deep breath as the bed springs whined under my weight. “Maybe it’s time to get you a new mattress.” Small talk was never my specialty, but ya can’t blame me for trying.

  “What do you want, Brayden? I am just about to my favorite part where Dobby gets a sock and is freed from the Malfoys,” Myla hissed. The frustration on her face made me want to laugh so hard; my sister was the biggest nerd in the world and I loved her so freaking much for it. She was also incredibly adorable when she scowled; it was always hard for my parents to reprimand her or take her seriously when she was mad because all they ever wanted to do was smile and laugh.

  After a deep breath, I finally dove right into the real reason I was bothering her. “You know you don’t have to go today. Mom will understand.” I grabbed my sister’s petite hand, trying to offer as much support as possible.

  “I am already on the guest list. I don’t want to hurt Dad like that.” Her eyes snapped away from mine. “Can you image how much that would suck for him if he was expecting me to be there and then I chickened out? That’s not fair.”

  My blood started to boil. “Not fair? Hurt him? You’re fucking worried about hurting that jerk’s feelings? You have got to be freaking kidding me. Myla, when are you going to grow up and realize that the only good thing that ever came from that man was the fact that we were born?”

  She shot up to her feet, face redder than a ripened tomato. “How dare you say that! He was a great father until he got injured! You of all people should know how fucking hard it is for a player to be taken off the ice. If you couldn’t play anymore, how do you think you would react? Bitter? Drunk? Asshole? All of it would be warranted. He does not need us turning our backs on him now.”

  I started to walk toward her bedroom door, knowing there wasn’t any reasoning with her about this and that upsetting her was the last thing I wanted to do. “He murdered an entire family because he was drunk and barred out of his skull. One day that will sink in.”

  As I shut her door, I knew I had hurt her, but facts were facts. Our father was not a good person, and he sure as hell hadn’t been a good father in years.

  Karla

  Sitting in a patient’s room while they slept probably was not the best way for me to spend the middle of my night shift, but there was something about this young girl that really got to me. Her brother had seemed so shaken when he left, and I knew he wouldn’t want his sister to be alone. I couldn’t imagine what he was going through. I hated having to send him home, but the visitor rules for the critical care unit were strictly enforced and I was not looking to get in trouble.

  I pulled out my cellphone and saved his name in my phone. I typed Brayden Cox into the field slowly, trying to put a finger on where I had heard that name before. I felt like I should know who these two were, but I just couldn’t place it.

  After doing one last check of Myla’s monitors and printing out her vitals, I made my way to the break room for some much-needed coffee.

  “Hey, Karla.” Rich looked up over the New York Times that was grasped firmly in his hands.

  I waved sweetly. “Long night so far, huh?”

  Rich’s graying beard was perfectly trimmed around his pursed smile. “Definitely a light night. How’s the Cox girl doing?”

  “Fine,” I muttered, filling up my thermos with steaming black goodness. “I feel like I’ve seen their name before.”

  Rich nodded. “I’m sure you have. That family was all over the news for a long time. The dad, Reggie Cox, was a big-time Otters player, and his son just got on the team. That girl in there, Myla, she is a big deal in her own right—scouted for the Olympic skating team and everything. Reggie hit the bottle real hard when he couldn’t be on the ice anymore and not too long ago killed a whole family in a drunk-driving accident. Real sad, if you ask me. One minute you have everything and then the next, your life is a one-way ticket to hell.”

  I stood in shock, trying to process the horror Rich had described. How could one family go through all that crap? And now the mom was dead on top of all of it. When is enough, enough?

  “That’s just so heartbreaking. How does a family survive something like that?”

  Rich shrugged. “They really got the shit end of the stick, for damn sure.” Checking his watch, Rich shoved away from the table.

  “Gonna check on her?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Take a load off. Lord knows you work hard enough for all of us. You deserve a quick break.”

  Taking a seat in a cold, plastic chair, I watch as Rich leaves the room. You’d think the hospital would want the break room to be comfortable for their staff, but it was the complete opposite. The stark white walls were bare, and dull gray and blue covered the rest of the small space. There was a microwave and a large white refrigerator that were both practically dinosaurs and made crazy noises from time to time for no reason at all. Even though it wasn’t the most inviting of spaces, it suited its purpose.

  My hands shook as I thought about the Cox family. One minute they were on the top of the world, and the next their lives had crumbled into the rubble of broken dreams. After slurping down the last drops of coffee, I tried to put my emotions to the side. That was the hardest part of my job for me—separating my emotions and not bringing the sadness home with me. I said a silent prayer for Myla and her brother and rinsed out my cup.

  I did my rounds, doing coffee-fueled passes through each of the ICU patients’ rooms to make sure everything was going well for them. The rest of my shift was smooth for the most part, other than an older lady screaming to high heaven about needing more pain pills after a spine surgery from three in the morning until the end of my shift. My heart went out to her, but there was nothing I could do other than call her pain management doctor and let him take it from there. Nothing really to write home about when it was all said and done. Myla was doing well, and that was all I really cared about.

  Chapter One

  Karla

  I got to my car in the parking lot and pulled out my phone. I scrolled through until I found Brayden’s contact before rattling off a quick text to him:

  Just letting you know, your sister did great overnight. I gave your number to the day nurse and will check in later to see how you two are doing. Take care – Karla.

  Checking the dash, I saw that it was half past seven in the morning. I hoped my message didn’t wake him, but it was better for him to have some piece of mind to wake up to than hearing nothing at all and panicking first thing in the morning.

  The short drive from the hospital to my apartment was a blur. One of the main reasons I hated working nights was how freaking tired I was every morning when I was heading home. They say tired driving is just as dangerous as drunk driving, and they are right, for sure.

  “Hey, handsome.” I threw my keys into the dish next to the front door of the apartment I shared with my boyfriend and our two dogs. I tiredly shuffled my feet as I made my way into the living room while our overly hyper miniature Pinschers jumped around, crying for me to scoop them up.

  James’ work boots were propped up on the coffee table as he flipped through the news channels. I leaned down, grabbing Nike and Thor to cradle them in my arms as I slipped out of my work sneakers. Giving in to their bad behavior was never something I liked doing, but I was too tired to discipline; giving in was way easier. I started to giggle as they licked my cheeks, wiggling in my arms.

  “Hey, sexy pants! How was w
ork?” James asked, getting up from the gray corduroy loveseat. “Want some eggs?”

  It was just about eight in the morning and I knew I was supposed to want breakfast, but all I wanted was my bed. “When are you heading to the jobsite?” I asked, deflecting.

  James started to rub my shoulders as his ice blue eyes peered into mine. There was something so calming about the way he gently looked at me, like he was seeing into my soul, deep down, into the raw parts of me; it was my favorite part about our relationship. With a deep breath, I let my shoulders relax in his strong, callused hands.

  His low gruff voice whispered, “I don’t have to be in for a few more hours. Go soak in a bath for a bit and I will whip up some food. Then, I will be out of your hair for the rest of the day so you can sleep off that pesky night shift of yours.”

  How did I get this lucky?

  Getting up on my tiptoes, I kissed James on his stubbly cheek, handing him our dogs. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?” I asked, turning to head to my favorite place in my home: the large Roman tub. It was the only reason I even agreed to move there.

  “Yes, but it is always nice to hear.” He smacked my butt after setting the dogs down in front of their food bowls, and their tails wagged feverishly in anticipation of their own breakfast.

  I heard kibble being poured into the porcelain bowls as I shut the door to my lavender bathroom. James called it my lady cave and let me make our bathroom as girly as I wanted. It was a fair trade for him turning our second bedroom into a home office that was more of a man-boy dream house.

  Steam started to bellow up from the filling tub as I tossed in a bright blue bath bomb. An intoxicating sent of lavender and mint filled up the small space and I sank down into the calming water.

  There was nothing better than a nice long bath after working a twelve-hour shift. My phone vibrated a few times on the edge of the tub. “Thank goodness for waterproof cases,” I muttered out loud to myself, grabbing it to check the messages, praying it wasn’t work saying I had to go in on my night off.