Smokeshow: A Hockey Love story

by Miller, Raine

  “You feeling okay? Any pain?”

  “I am fine,” she answers with a shy smile. “That was…wow.”

  “Wow good?”

  “Do you really have to ask? I didn't expect I could…you know…come…the very first time.”

  “Well, proved you wrong. Yay, Tyler.”

  She slaps my arm lazily. “Come lie with me?”

  I look at my phone. I still have an hour before I need to get to the arena, so I slip onto the bed with her, pulling her naked, amazing body toward me, spooning her as we both catch our breath from what I think may have been a life-changing experience for both of us. And it has to happen again. We are not one-and-done. This woman. In my bed. My cock in her body. Her heart in my hands…forever. Because I know now, there will never be another woman for me. Just this beauty. Mine.

  Twenty-Five

  Zoya

  WORTH IT

  I wake up to the sound of banging. Where am I?

  Sitting up, I realize I'm naked and alone in Ty’s bed. There’s a general achiness between my legs and I realize what happened wasn’t just a really amazing dream or a fantasy. I've lost my virginity. To Tyler Lockhardt.

  There is no time to process, to analyze, because someone is knocking at the door and I can hear water running in the bathroom. Ty must have somewhere to be.

  I don’t really know where my clothes are, though I do find my panties close by. As I pull them on, the banging sounds more insistent, so I just grab a Crush hoodie of Ty’s that I find hanging in his closet. Pulling it on, it’s like a dress. I drown in it, but whatever. I like that it smells of him.

  I pad out to the living room and swing the door open wide.

  My brother standing on the other side looking like an angry god bent on vengeance. Georg is here.

  My body goes cold, the color surely draining from my face as my brother takes in the sight of me, hair wild, dressed only in Ty’s hoodie. Oh my God.

  “What the fuck, Zoya? What's going on here?”

  “Nothing.” But we both know that's a lie. Jutting my chin forward, I tell my brother, “None of your damn business. And what are you doing here?”

  Just then, Ty comes out, dressed in a nice shirt and dress pants. “I can explain—”

  Crack! Georg punches Tyler in the nose. His fist making contact and the sickening sound of bone meeting flesh. Tyler throws his hand over his nose, now bleeding profusely onto his hand and down his arm.

  “Get dressed,” my brother growls, teeth bared like an animal. “Get dressed and come with me.”

  “No! You hurt him, Georg. No, we should talk about this like adults. Oh my God, we are all adults.”

  “I won’t sit here and talk about how he defiled my little sister,” Georg snarls.

  “I didn’t defile her,” Ty says, recovering a bit, his voice nasally and wet. “Georg, I care about her.”

  “I told you to stay away from him.” Georg points at me sharply.

  “You did not. You knew we were friends. That he’s been helping me with stats. You knew.”

  “Well then, I told him to stay away from you,” he bites out, switching his pointing to focus onto Tyler. “And you said friends. Friends, Zoya! Not fuck buddies.”

  “We are not…” I can't even say the word. “We are not that. It's more with us. I care about him and he cares about me.”

  “He cares about pussy! You’re just a fresh piece of ass to him!”

  Tyler bristles at the accusation. “Hey man, that’s not true at all—”

  “Shut the fuck up!” Georg yells. “Zoya, I will not tell you again. You get dressed and come with me.”

  There is quiet menace in his voice as his body shakes with rage. I have only seen my brother this angry a few times in my life and it is terrifying enough that I put up no more fight. It’s not that I think he would ever hurt me—he wouldn’t—but in all likelihood he would, in fact, do more than just make Tyler’s nose bleed, and I can't have my Ty hurt any more than he already is.

  So, I make a decision. I say nothing to my brother. I just walk through the apartment, finding my clothing, dressing hastily in Ty's bedroom. When I emerge, my head hangs low as I pass Tyler, who gives my hand a clandestine squeeze as I pass him by, leaving him behind, heading out his front door, my brother stomping furiously along behind.

  By the time I shove myself into the front seat of Georg’s BMW, I am sobbing. When Georg pulls out his phone and tells Siri to “Call Papa,” I cry even harder. My father isn't going to let me stay here if he knows I've slept with a hockey player. I might as well pack my bags right now. In Russian, Georg rattles off what he has seen, me barely dressed, clothing strewn about Tyler’s apartment. He knows we slept together, even after he told us to stay away from each other. I can hear my father yelling on the other end, Georg telling him over and over he has been paying attention, that he told us to stay away from the hockey players.

  When he hangs up, he says, “I’ll drop you at the dorm. Papa's booking a flight now. He’s coming to get you and Irina to take you back.”

  “It's the middle of the semester,” I rage at him. “I have classes to finish. I like it here.”

  “Well, you knew the conditions. You knew Papa wanted you to stay away from the hockey players. And…what a hypocrite. You can’t come watch me play because you want nothing to do with hockey, and then you’re up here screwing a player? Real nice, mladshaya sestra.”

  “I didn't mean for this to happen, Georg. He needed a friend. He needed someone to talk to, and he really did help me with my statistics. We became friends. It had nothing to do with hockey. We don't talk ever about hockey.”

  “Yeah, duh,” Georg sneers angrily. “Somehow I'd guess that hockey is the last thing on your minds when you’re both naked.”

  “This was the first time.” My voice shakes a little to admit it. “My first time.”

  My brother’s mouth hangs open. “I’m sorry? Come again? Did you just tell me you gave up your V-Card to Tyler Lockhardt? Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “It was my choice to make. My body. I can make my own choices about this.”

  “Well”—he lets out a hysterical laugh—“you obviously can’t, Zoya. Seriously. I might have expected this out of Irina, but you?”

  “Me what? I am the quiet one? The good girl. The one who studies all the time and never parties. Well, that may be true, but I also have the right to fall in love.”

  “In love?” Georg snorts. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard you say. I can guarantee you that nothing I’ve seen shows that Lockhardt could ever love anyone.”

  “Really? Have you not seen him take in his little brother and sister recently? You did not see him take two small children into his home in order to give them a better life? Is that not love?”

  “That’s different. Zoya, he treats women like garbage.”

  “So did you. You treated women like garbage before Pam. Who says he can't change, as you did?”

  “Even if I thought he could change, which I do not, it's not up to me. The judge here is Papa, and he will never care about anything other than you disobeyed him. You’ll be on a flight home to Saint Petersburg in twenty-four hours, I guarantee it.”

  “You didn't have to call him, brother. You could've had my back.”

  “I’d have your back if you got caught smoking weed in the dorm. Or spray-painting graffiti on the side of a building. I am not having your back for sleeping with one of the nastiest guys I’ve ever met.”

  “Ty is not nasty. That's the pot calling the kettle black!”

  Georg pulls in front of my dorm, turning off the engine. He runs a hand through his long hair and sighs, then bangs both hands on the steering wheel. “Fuck, Zoya. I can’t believe you did this. And what about Irina? I thought it was Irina who liked him that way?”

  I don’t admit the guilt that washes over me. I made a promise to Irina that she meant more to me than Tyler. That her feelings were important to me. And yet I wa
ltzed right over to him and into his bed. I am not sure how to deal with the guilt I feel over that, actually. Especially when I consider the joy I felt when he showed me how much he wanted me. Not my sexy sister. Me. And now Georg has take that away. Pridurok!

  Still, there is nothing left to say to my brother, my betrayer, except, “Fuck you, Georg.”

  Then I open the door and step out, slamming it before he can say another thing to me. It will be a very long time before I can even speak to my brother again.

  As I walk back to my room, the tears continue. Several of my neighbors stop and ask if I'm okay. One says, “Guys are not worth the emotion,” and I nod in agreement, even though I'm not sure I agree.

  When I collapse onto my bed, I'm certain I don't agree. Tyler is worth it. He made me feel special and beautiful. And he made me feel good and desirable and beautiful.

  The thought of not seeing him again makes me sick and sad and I can't do anything but curl into a ball on my bed and cry some more.

  Twenty-Six

  Tyler

  MEAN LEFT HOOK

  “Cracked you good,” the team doctor says. “What’d you do to piss off ole Georgie?”

  I shrug, not willing to admit I slept with “ole Georgie’s” virgin baby sister. I look at my watch, grimacing because I’ve now missed the team meeting. “Is it broken?”

  “Yes, sir,” he says. “Ice it twenty minutes on, twenty minutes off. Take some Ibuprofen. Doesn’t look like it needs to be realigned.”

  “Well, that’s some good news.” I sound more sarcastic than I mean to be.

  “It is,” he says. “Means you won’t have Coach Brown on your ass for missing more ice time. Any pain elsewhere? See stars when it happened?”

  “No. I mean, it hurt like a bitch but Kolochev isn’t that strong. I guess it snapped my head back a bit. Some neck and shoulder pain, but nothing I can’t manage.”

  “Welp. Go see PT just to be safe. Have them give you an ice pack.”

  I stand and he claps me on the back as he shoves me out the door. Next stop physical therapy, where Pam is the only one not busy working on someone at the moment.

  “Why so glum, chum?” she asks as I sulk over to her table.

  “Why the broken nose, you mean? Oh, that would be thanks to your husband.”

  She snorts. “What on earth?”

  “I…” I can’t help the grimace. “I need you to loosen up my shoulders and neck.”

  “Hmm. Well, okay. No need to be cryptic and sullen.”

  “You’d be sullen, too, if Georg just hit you in the nose.”

  “I’d be in divorce court if Georg hit me in the nose,” she says. Then she purses her lips to one side. “Well, except for that one time, when we were trying a Christian Grey kind of thing with ropes and he accidentally knocked me in the nose with his elbow.”

  “La la la la la,” I sing. “TMI, Pam. No need for the overshare. He does have a mean left hook, though.”

  “Well, it takes a lot to get him angry enough to throw a punch. So you either slept with his sister or you slept with his other sister. Those are my guesses. So, which one was it, Locksey?”

  “Zoya.”

  Pam cuffs me on the back of the head.

  “Ow!” I yelp, rubbing my head. “This is abuse.”

  “You idiot. The baby? Zoya is the baby of that family, dumbass. Barely an adult. Yep, that’ll do it.”

  “See, that’s the thing. She’s not a baby, and she is an adult. Like…she’s almost twenty. And I care about her. A lot.”

  “Really? When you say you care about her, can you actually think of reasons why? Like, non-body-part reasons?”

  “She’s sweet. Smart. She’s easy to talk to. I trust her. She’s like a humor ninja. She’s amazing with kids. She knows when to ask for help and how to say thank you. She makes me feel…calmer, somehow. She doesn’t judge me or my past. She doesn’t care that I play hockey. How's that for reasons?”

  Pam looks surprised but covers it quickly, telling me to lie down on my stomach. She works at the knots in my back and neck quietly for a few minutes. It’s me that can’t keep my mouth shut.

  “I know she needs time, you know? She’s young. Not a baby, but young, and she has goals. She takes school seriously. I never did and I don’t want her thinking she should throw it all away for anything or anyone. I don’t want her to feel trapped, you know? I want her to be happy, and her friendship means a lot to me. I feel so comfortable with her. I don’t wanna lose that.”

  Pam pats me on the back and has me sit up so she can do some arm stretches. “Sounds like you might really have feelings for her,” she finally says.

  “I do. I really do. And, you know, she was a virgin when we…”

  Pam’s eyebrows shoot up into her hairline. “Really?”

  I give her one nod. “She came to tell me we couldn’t. She didn’t want to hurt Irina. But...I don’t know, I think we both knew something was there for a while and…it just happened.”

  “And it was more for you? Than just a quick lay? Sorry, I know that’s personal.”

  “It’s a fair question. And yes.” I pause. How do I express that for the first time ever, I wanted to take my time? Wanted to make it good for her. More than good. How do I say that it felt like home, being with her…the first home I’ve felt in a long time…ever? “It was everything I’ve never had before, Pam. Something I never want to lose.” But due to your husband, I have no clue what will happen next. And the radio silence from Zoya hasn’t helped. “I need to know she’s okay.”

  We’re quiet for a moment, then I bust out laughing. “Wow, I sound whipped. Holy shit.”

  “You sound like you’re in love.”

  I open my mouth to argue but find I can’t do it, so I snap it back shut.

  “Given my loyalty lies with my husband, I think I’ll pause it there about Zoya. I don’t know what’s going to happen now, Tyler, but it probably won’t be good.”

  “Yeah, fuck I know that.” But I have no idea what I can do to change this.

  Pam changes the subject, God love her. “How are the kids?”

  I groan a little. “They’re good kids. Doin’ real well, yeah? You know they haven’t asked about her, not once? It’s insane.”

  “It’s sad, that’s what it is,” Pam mutters. “Will they have to go back?”

  “If she agrees to go to treatment and comes out clean, she can get them back. I’m planning to bring her out here for a one-year program. Maybe set them all up with a place here after that, so I can keep a closer eye.”

  “That’s a reasonable and admirable plan, Tyler, but what if rehab fails? What if things just go back to the way they were?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll cross each bridge as I come to it, I guess. I need a long-term solution but it’s not clear to me yet what it is. What is clear however, while I do love my siblings, I was in no way qualified to do this, and in no way ready to be their parental guardian. And I travel too much to be of any use. They spend more time with the nanny than they do with me. It’s nuts. You know what I mean?”

  “I think you’re doing the best you can, and that your best is a far cry better than what they had before. You’re doing a good thing, here.”

  I hop off the table and salute her. “Thanks for listening.”

  She nods and I head out, down the hall, grabbing the elevator up to the coaches’ suite. When I walk in, black eyes blooming, tape on my nose, Coach rolls his eyes at me.

  “What the fuck, Lockhardt?”

  “Sorry, Coach, I—”

  “That was rhetorical. Look, shit happens, but we are two home games away from the playoffs. We're in contention here and every damn body is watching every move. I need you there and one hundred percent in the game, so where is your head?”

  “I’m committed, Coach. We’ve all worked too damn hard to let this season slip away. I promise, I’ve got my shit together. I’m here for it.”

  He nods. “Good. Now get out of here.”
/>
  Twenty-Seven

  Zoya

  HYPOCRITES ALL

  Nauseous. That’s how I feel as I watch Kirill Kolochev walk toward me in baggage claim at the airport. I figured it was best to face my executioner and meet him straight away.

  My father is a handsome man, his dark, curly hair clipped short, graying at the temples. He’s tall and broad-shouldered, sharply dressed in a white button-down shirt, gray slacks, and a blue suit jacket.

  As handsome as he is, nothing can cover the downturn of his mouth, deepening with each step he takes toward me. My stomach is a pit of acid.

  He steps toward me, pulling me into a fierce hug that belies how livid I know he must be. He pulls away, scanning my face. “Ty khorosho vyglyadush’, doch’." You look well, daughter.

  “English, Papa,” I remind him.

  He wraps his arm around my shoulders, and we walk along, his roller bag bumping along behind us. I call for a town car and we wait only a few minutes. Once we’re inside, though, he turns to me and says, “What were you thinking?”

  “I was thinking I'm an adult and allowed to make my own choices.”

  “You were specifically told to stay away from wild hockey boys and yet you picked the wildest of the wild to sleep with. Zoya, this is not proper behavior. It is not good for you.”

  “Papa, I'm nearly twenty. I work hard in school. I don't get in trouble. I think I can choose what is good for me.”

  “Tyler Lockhardt?” he asks, giving me a face. “Really? Zoya, I did not send you here to sleep with Georg’s hockey teammates. I sent you to get an education. I gave you one strict condition and you broke it.”

  “I have been focused on my education, Papa. You told me to get a tutor and I did—it just happened to be Tyler. We became friends, and then later…something more.”

  “More. Meaning you slept with him. It disgusts me.”