Jack: An Enemies To Lovers Sports Romance (Bad Boys of Hockey Book 2)

by Violette Paradis

“It’s the energy between us,” I say. “There’s a lot of friction.”

  “Friction can be good.”

  I half-laugh. “Yes, friction can be good. That’s the problem. He just gets under my skin and I can’t stop thinking about him.”

  “What’s the problem? I don’t see a problem.”

  “I already told him that I want to be single. I mean, I need a break after dealing with Brendon. Don’t I?”

  “Oh, hon. You’re going to pass up a delicious professional hockey player to get over that noodle of a man?”

  “Noodle?”

  “A wet one.”

  We both burst out into laughter.

  “Brendon was so soft,” Madison continues. “He folded over the second anyone breathed in his direction.”

  I shake my head. “He may have folded to everyone else but he never did it to me. He always pushed back on every piece of advice I ever gave him. Annoying.”

  “Ugh. Super annoying.” Madison sips her coffee and scrunches her face at the bitter taste.

  “And he didn’t give me a chance to save up any money to pay this month’s rent. No warning or anything. Thank goodness I’m interviewing a few people for the studio this week.”

  “Do you still need help with your finances?” Madison asks.

  “With the money from Jack, I should have enough for this month. I’m debating teaching an extra class or two a week just to build up the security net a bit.”

  “Do you even have time for that?”

  “I do, but not at the studio. All the studio space is completely booked up. God, I wish I could have two rooms so I could run two classes at once. For now, I’ll have to teach somewhere else while Naomi’s in there. Unless I teach classes at midnight.”

  “A midnight class could be cool. Midnight yoga under the full moon.”

  “The full moon’s not for another few weeks.” I tap my cup with my chipped black nails. “Besides, nobody wants to do yoga at midnight anyway. I’d make forty bucks if that.”

  “Well, something will come through for you. It always does.”

  “I hope so.” I sigh. “I really just want to start leveling up my business, you know? I had all these dreams to expand the studio when I first started dating Brendon but he somehow always convinced me not to change anything. I think he just liked living there. And now he’s gone.”

  “Well, at least we can celebrate one thing. Good riddance to Brendon, am I right?”

  “Cheers to that.”

  Madison raises her cup to mine. We both take a hesitant sip of our bitter coffee and look back at the ice.

  “So?” Madison is still holding her cup to her lips. “Where is he? Where’s your knight in shining armor?”

  Looking out at the ice, I watch the guys as they stand in a semi-circle, taking turns taking shots at the net. The ice is covered in pucks for them to warm up with.

  “There. Near the bench.” I point at Jack who has his helmet on. “Number twenty-one.”

  Madison follows my gaze. “Mmm. I’ll be watching him.”

  Me too.

  “He certainly was cute when I met him at Sun and Moon Terrace,” she says.

  I smile. “He has his moments.”

  The Lovers card flashes through my mind. I’ve been thinking about that card ever since it fell out of Madame Lacroix’s hands that night when I was with Jack.

  There’s no way that Jack is meant to be my lover, right? We’re too prickly for each other. Besides, I would never date a guy who called me judgy, even if he’s completely right. I have judged him prematurely. He’s not the trolling ladies’ man that I thought he was, nor is he the dumb jock.

  Madison looks at me and smirks.

  I roll my eyes. “Can you stop looking at me like that?”

  “I’m sorry, I’ve just never seen you like this!”

  “Like what?”

  She laughs. “Oh, hon. You’re smitten! Look at you trying to find him on the ice.”

  “I’m just trying to get familiar with the team,” I lie.

  “Sure, sure. I’m just sayin’ I’ve never seen you look for Brendon through the crowd like this.”

  “Brendon? Are we still talking about that noodle?”

  We both laugh before settling down and watching the Blades practice for the next few minutes. There’s something hypnotic about the rhythm of them shooting the pucks at the net. After they file off the ice, we have a few more minutes before it’s time for the anthem. Then once that’s over, the game begins.

  When the puck drops, the energy in the arena changes completely. Everyone shifts up to the edge of their seat so that they can lean in and watch. The crowd becomes quiet, all their focus is on the ice.

  As the players start struggling for the puck, I’m instantly transfixed. It’s so quiet that all we can hear are the grunts and commands of the players, the sound of their skates and sticks against the ice, and the inevitable crashes into the boards. The referee blows the whistle less than seventeen seconds into the game.

  “Whoa. This is very fast,” I say. “Like a roller-coaster.”

  “Oh, it’s fast alright!” Madison’s eyes are wide open as the referee drops the puck and the action is going again.

  “To be honest, I didn’t think you’d be this into it.” I’m looking at Madison and her wide, excited eyes.

  “Me neither, but—WOOO!”

  Both Madison and the woman on my left stand up and cheer with the rest of the audience as music blasts over the loudspeaker.

  “What happened?” I look around in confusion. Looking at the ice, I see the five Blades players huddled and celebrating as spotlights swirl over the ice.

  “They scored!” Madison says.

  “And I missed it?” Careful not to spill my coffee, I get up and join everyone else in the celebration.

  “Look! The replay!”

  Madison points at the jumbotron where they show a handsome man scoring the goal. Number thirteen. The back of his jersey says his name is Drake.

  When we sit back down, I get comfortable again.

  “Well, that was exciting,” I say. “It happened so fast I didn’t even see what happened.”

  “You have to watch the player, not the puck,” the woman with the thick glasses and blue sweater says. Her earbuds and phone are now gone.

  “Oh,” I say. “That makes sense. Are you one of the hockey wives?”

  “Sort of.” She smiles bashfully. “I’m engaged to the guy who just scored.” She points at the jumbotron which is showing Drake’s replay again. “Logan Drake.”

  “Wow, congratulations!” Madison and I fawn over her beautiful ring.

  “I’m Riley, by the way,” she says.

  “I’m Jemma,” I say.

  “Madison.”

  “We’re with Jack,” I add. I instantly realize how weird it is to say that.

  With Jack.

  Madison nudges me in the ribs and I nudge her back, giving her a cautionary stare.

  I realize with horror that I don’t even remember Jack’s last name. I know it was something French.

  “Oh, Jack Lalonde!” Riley says. “He’s one of the rookies.”

  “Yeah, that’s right,” I say, pretending that I knew that. “He just moved here.”

  “Well, he looks like he’s fitting in just fine.” Riley smiles.

  At that moment I realize that Madison and I were talking a bit too freely—and loudly—about Jack earlier. My cheeks flare with embarrassment. I should have known that everyone around here probably knows each other personally.

  “I don’t know him that well,” Riley admits as if reading my thoughts. This settles my nerves a bit. “Although I’m sure that’ll change over the next year. The Blades family is a really tight-knit group.”

  “Oh.” I give her a polite but uncomfortable smile. “That’s good to know.”

  I’m suddenly feeling very resentful that Jack even invited me out here with the rest of these perfect girlfriends and wives—the Blades f
amily.

  The game starts up again. Everyone goes quiet as everyone focuses on the game.

  I watch the guys zip around the ice. There’s Jack. My heart picks up its beat as I watch him. He’s so focused, so in the game.

  The guys skate around one another with such grace and speed, it’s almost like a ballet. They pass the puck from stick to stick, moving it up the ice in a coordinated effort. Jack taps the ice as his teammate passes the puck to him. He instinctively turns and passes it to a player up the ice. The other team tries to stop them but they skate in circles around each other, getting closer to the net.

  He was right. Hockey is beautiful.

  The play gets whistled down again.

  “What happened?” I furrow my brow.

  “The play was offside,” Riley says.

  “What does that mean?”

  “You see those blue lines?” Riley points at the ice. “The offensive team—that’s the one that wants to score—they can’t cross that line unless the puck crosses first.”

  I stare at the blue lines on the rink as I try to understand. “But if the bad guys don’t want the Blades near their net, they could just prevent the puck from ever crossing the line, right? That way the Blades would never get into their area.”

  “Their zone,” she says, correcting me before chuckling at my use of words. “And yes, they can do that. That’s the game.” She smiles.

  A moment of realization hits me.

  “Oh.” I sit back in my seat and smile. “I think I’m finally starting to understand.”

  I watch the guys play again, finally following along. I find myself gasping and cheering with the rest of the arena. I cheer when we get the puck and I groan when the other team takes a shot on our net. I can’t believe it. This is actually fun.

  One of the players accidentally flicks the puck into the crowd and the play is whistled down. The game pauses as a commercial for El Taco Picante plays on the jumbotron. I watch the teams convene at their respective benches.

  Jack is sitting at the end of the bench. He pulls off his helmet as he pours water over himself.

  “So, what do you do?” Riley asks.

  I pull my eyes off Jack.

  “We’re both business-owners,” I say. “Madison owns a crystal shop and I have a yoga studio on Apple Tree Lane. That’s how we met.”

  “Oh wow! You own The Zen Garden?”

  I feel myself light up. “Yes!”

  “I’ve heard of that place. My friend, Jane, swears by it.”

  “Oh my god, I know Jane! Dark hair, very beautiful. A bit sassy.”

  Riley laughs. “That’s Jane.”

  “She’s one of my best clients. She comes in at least three times a week.”

  “Well, she speaks very highly of your studio.”

  Turning back, I share a shocked smile with Madison.

  Riley clears her throat. “Say, would I be able to book you for private classes?”

  “Yeah, totally!”

  “What about classes on location? Are you willing to travel within the city for an extra fee? It wouldn’t be far.” She looks at me with her light gray eyes which are magnified by her glasses. There’s something very friendly and inviting about her. She exudes good energy.

  “Oh, that actually sounds perfect. Do you have any details about who this would be for?”

  “Well, I’m a physio who works specifically with athletes. I’ve been looking for a yoga teacher who can come in once a week and stretch out some problem areas for some of my clients. Would that interest you?”

  “Wow, yes,” I say. “I’ve never taught athletes before but I’m certainly up to the challenge.”

  “I know it’s not what you’re used to but I promise I’ll make it extremely worthwhile. I have a budget set aside for this.”

  “Oh, wow. Okay.” I try to maintain my composure as I look over at Madison in excitement. She squeezes my arm.

  Maybe this is it. This is the break I need to supplement my income a bit to level up my business.

  “Here.” Reaching into my purse, I grab my card and hand it to her.

  “Great.” Riley takes my card and places it in her wallet. “Oh, I’m so excited! I’m so glad you were seated next to me.”

  “Me too,” I say.

  Someone on Riley’s opposite side grabs her attention and she excuses herself to chat with them for a bit.

  Sitting back in my seat, I look back out at the ice. Madison squeezes my arm.

  “There’s a reason for everything, right?” She whispers to me.

  I smile as I watch Jack glide down the ice as the first period comes to an end.

  “There really is.”

  JACK

  My first big league game is fast-paced and dizzying. I’ve played my fair share of games in the minor league but none of those prepared me for this.

  The adrenaline is pumping through my veins as we play. The audience is cheering. I can feel their enthusiasm but when I’m on the ice, all that matters is the puck and the guys around me. I feel like every cell in my body is on high alert.

  I’m pushing off the ice so fast, sprinting from one end of the rink to the other, that I don’t even notice how tired I am until I’m back on the bench. My lungs are heaving and my muscles are trembling. The sweat is pouring down my body, soaking my padding and clothes. Grabbing my water bottle, I squirt the water over my head and down my neck.

  “Good job, man,” Connor says, patting me on the back.

  Tilting my head back, I take a big swig of delicious water.

  “Thanks,” I finally say.

  Coach warned me that I wouldn’t have too much time on the ice, and he’s right. With ample time to recover before my next shift, I spend the next fifteen minutes watching the game with the rest of the audience. I’m on the bench for most of the big plays. I watch as Logan Drake, Rory Edgar, and Johnny Breakwood all score goals. The Johnny goal is a surprise because he’s a rookie like me. The goal is a lucky bounce. The puck redirected off his skate and into the net. But a goal’s a goal, no matter how messy it is.

  When I get onto the ice again, I try my best to help set up Connor and Austin but we just can’t get anything going. The Hellcats are just too quick.

  The game ends with a score of four to three for the Hellcats. Although I didn’t help score any goals, I wasn’t on the ice to give up any either. It’s a small silver lining.

  In the end, I had eight minutes of playing time. Not bad for a rookie, especially when Johnny barely got more than four.

  “At least I got a goal,” he says.

  I want to remind him that it was a lucky bounce but I hold my tongue. This is his moment.

  The team shuffles into the locker room where Coach is waiting to talk to us. Still dripping sweat, we sit on the benches. Some of us are bent over, looking at our feet. The air is humid with the smell of testosterone, sweat, and defeat.

  “Good job, team,” Coach Murphy says. The white-haired man is standing at the front of the locker room. “I know this doesn’t feel like a win, but it is. You poured your hearts out tonight and you gave it all you got. We learned something today. We learned that we can work as a team. We’re not perfect—and we never will be—but we can get as close as we damn can.”

  I’m leaning on my knees, wondering what I could have done better.

  Coach continues. “Although we may have lost, we managed to keep on the other team on their heels for most of it. And I’m proud of you for that. You guys passed when you needed to pass, you filled the gaps, and you were quick on the changes.”

  “Yeah, we were,” Rory, the Captain, says confidently. This instantly adds energy to the room.

  “You played your hearts out,” Coach says. “And I’m proud of the way you guys stayed together as a team. Skip? Good job holding off on all those shots. They were relentless in their attack and you were there to stop as many as you could. Drake? Great goal, that’s the energy we need to start every game. Johnny? Where’s Johnny? There he
is. I don’t care if the puck never touched your stick—a goal doesn’t have to be pretty to count. But a lucky bounce on our first game is good luck. If we’ve got Lady Luck on our side this season, we’re golden. And to all our new guys—Johnny, Austin, Jack. Great job. I’ve got notes for our next practice but I want you to relax for now. You guys put in one hell of a tremendous effort.”

  “Good job guys!” Rory says.

  Everyone in the room claps. The air already feels lighter.

  “We can really do it this year, guys,” Coach says. “If this is the energy we have before it even starts, we’ll only get better. All we need is some precision and refinement. In the meantime, go Blades!”

  “Go Blades!”

  We clap again as Coach leaves the room.

  The guys eventually scatter as we strip off our sweaty gear and get ready for the showers.

  “Hey, good job out there,” Rory says. His blond hair is matted with sweat. “The Hellcats are a tough team but we managed to hold them off.”

  “Thanks, Captain.”

  He claps me on the back. “Call me Rory.”

  I smile. “Thanks.”

  After a well-deserved shower, I get dressed and join Connor as he drives us back home. Soft rock from the nineties is playing on the radio.

  “You’re quiet,” Connor says.

  I stare out at the dark road ahead of us. It’s almost midnight.

  “I’m just thinking about the game,” I say.

  “Don’t overthink anything. What’s done is done. All we can do is look forward to the next game.”

  “It’s not that.”

  Connor shuts off the radio. “What then?”

  “I just thought playing in a big stadium would feel different. Don’t get me wrong—it was incredible and exhilarating—but at the same time it felt like any other game I’ve ever played.”

  “Every game is important. Whether you’re playing on an ice pond with your friends or in front of thousands of people for the Cup. The energy you put in will be just as important.”

  I smirk. The mention of ‘energy’ makes me think of Jemma’s yoga class. She’s always talking about that kind of stuff.

  “That’s true,” I say.

  “The real difference happens when you hone your skills. Speaking of which, I’m going to wake up early for a run. Care to join me?”