Learn Your Lesson: A Single Dad Hockey Romance (Kings of the Ice)

Will

Somewhat successfully, I managed to snuff out my improper thoughts of Chloe over the next few days.

After I fucked my hand to the thought of her, I’d slept — and woken up absolutely pissed at myself. I felt a whole lot more shame in the bright light of day, and other than having breakfast with her and Ava before the morning skate, I steered clear of my nanny.

The Tampa Bay Ospreys were cruising toward bye week, which meant between games and practice, I barely had time to sleep, let alone anything else. I spent what little time I did manage to have with Ava, including finding a local girls hockey league that she could join once she turned six.

Ava’s birthday was July twentieth, and for the first time in her life, she was counting down the days.

As a team, we were finding our rhythm, a playoff run well within reach as we clenched another win at home. Tonight, we would play our last game before the bye week — and we’d play it in New York.

This was a big one.

New York was on a hot streak, having won their last fourteen games in a row. Their goalie’s stats rivaled mine, their defensemen like a brick wall you had to get through just to make it to the goal, and they made scoring look easy.

We hoped to end their streak tonight — but it was going to take focus. And a near perfect fucking game.

“Suter,” I called at the end of our morning skate, nodding toward the bench. Sweat dripped off my hair and down my neck, my body sore from days of practice and games. I never felt this sore in my twenties — but then again, I never felt as strong, either.

Aleks flattened his lips with an eye roll before following me over, spitting on the ice like whatever I had to say wasn’t worth his time.

But the truth was he’d been decent over the last week — as decent as he could be, anyway. And after reading an autobiography by one of my favorite coaches over the weekend, I was curious to see if a different approach would strike with our hellcat of a winger.

“What?” Aleks asked, plopping down on the bench and sitting spread eagle with his murderous glare on me.

“Look, even thinking about the words I’m about to say makes me want to kick myself in the balls. I don’t do compliments, or atta boys, so don’t get used to it.”

I paused to assess his reaction, and when I noticed his eyebrow ticcing up a bit, when he cracked his neck and lifted his chin, I internally smiled.

I had his attention.

“You’ve always been great on the ice. I don’t have to tell you that, nor do I fucking want to, to be honest. But,” I added, sucking in a breath like it pained me to say the words. “Your wrist shots lately have been fucking immaculate. You haven’t been afraid to get dirty for us this season, and while sometimes those penalties cost us,” I said with a glare. “More times than not, they swing the momentum in our favor.”

Suter’s brows were furrowed, his jaw tight — and I wasn’t sure if he was pissed or absolutely fucking floored that I was saying something nice.

“The truth of the matter is that you’ve been instrumental in our winning season, and if you keep playing your best, you’re going to take us to the playoffs. Maybe even to the Cup. So, keep it up.”

Aleks blinked a few times, and then opened his mouth, shut it again, and stood. He pulled his glove off and reached his hand out for mine.

“Appreciate that, man.”

Hope flickered in my chest as I shook his hand hard. Maybe this was what he responded to. Maybe having everyone raining down on his ass all the time made him not give a fuck, but a little positive reinforcement got through.

“Don’t expect this shit ever again,” I said. “And also, just know I think you can do better. I think you can be better. I know you have a reputation. I know you probably like it. But you can be rough around the edges and a scary motherfucker while also being a good teammate.”

I gave him a pointed look, fully expecting him to suck his teeth and skate off pissed like usual.

But for the first time, he nodded, sniffing and looking away from me like he was indifferent to what I’d said.

But I knew I’d gotten through. He’d heard me.

Halle-fucking-lujah.

“Holy shit! Look what the cat dragged in!”

Aleks and I turned toward the commotion, and I almost cracked a smile when I saw Carter Fabri walking through the tunnel. He traipsed in with all the swagger of a fourteen-year-old, practically bouncing on his heels.

Suter was unimpressed by the arrival, and he made his way back on the ice as I wobbled on my skates toward Fabio. A half-dozen of my teammates shoved past me in an effort to get to our teammate first. They tackled him in hugs and ruffled his dark hair, hitting him with joke after joke as he smiled and hugged every one of them.

This was what made me feel like he could be a leader — a captain, even.

Everyone loved him. Everyone was fired up by his presence. He made his teammates feel good. He made them feel confident.

If only he could match this energy with talent on the ice.

“Cute pubes, Fabio,” I teased when I made it to him, rubbing the scruff on his chin before he batted my hand away. He grinned, though, and clapped me hard on the back. “Nice to see you.”

“Couldn’t let my team play in my city without showing up to support.”

Our AHL affiliate was based in New York. My guess was they had a day off, and so here he was, ready to cheer on the team he should have been playing for.

He was less prideful than I was. I was fairly certain I couldn’t do the same without throwing myself a fucking pity party.

“So… any of the girls come with you this time?” Carter asked, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans like he didn’t care all that much.

“Grace is backpacking in Spain,” Jaxson said.

“And Maven makes the most of any away game by forcing Livia to help her get caught up on wedding shit,” Vince chimed in. He shook his head. “That woman and her planning. I feel bad for the event coordinator she hired. Poor woman is going to have the shakes when she sees the list my future wife has put together for her.”

We all chuckled a bit at that, but I didn’t miss how Carter deflated a little when Vince mentioned Livia wasn’t here. She was our team dentist, and it didn’t take a fucking rocket scientist to see Carter had a crush on her.

Poor guy. He didn’t stand a fucking chance with that one. Livia was the kind of woman who would chew him up and spit him out just for fun.

Then again, maybe that’s all he wanted.Content © NôvelDrama.Org 2024.

“Ah, too bad,” Carter said. “I’m sure they miss me.”

Vince rolled his eyes. “Oh, yes. You’re all my fiancée talks about.”

“Obviously,” Carter said. “You know who will be here tonight, though?” He paused for dramatic emphasis, waggling his brows. “Mia Fucking Love.”

“What?!”

“No fucking way.”

“Mia bloody Love?”

“As in the Mia Love?”

“Bullshit.”

“Siiiick!”

All these responses came at once from various teammates, and I had to fight back a snort at the guys who were high-fiving each other as if they had a chance in hell of the biggest pop star on the planet so much as looking their way.

“Ah, she’s alright,” Jaxson said when some of the team quieted. “But she doesn’t have shit on my girl.”

Vince gagged. “Bro.”

“What are you girls screaming about over here?” Aleks grumbled, finally joining us. He’d skated off to take a few more lazy laps around the ice when Carter showed up — probably because he and Carter didn’t particularly get along. Aleks was quick to rag on Carter in the short time they played together earlier in the season before Carter got sent down to the AHL.

My bet was Carter wouldn’t soon forget his comments.

“Mia Love is coming to the game tonight,” Coach McCabe answered, and I think we all shit ourselves a bit because we hadn’t realized he’d come out from where he was back in the locker room with the training staff and one of our injured defensemen.

There were some muttered oh shit’s before most everyone got back on the ice, pretending like they hadn’t been fucking around.

“Which doesn’t matter to us, because our focus is on winning, right?” Coach added, pointedly — mostly at our younger players who looked quite sheepish.

“What did you say?”

Coach turned to Aleks, who asked that question not in a prickish way like usual, but in an almost out of breath manner.

“Mia Love. Pop star,” Coach added, as if that woman needed any introduction. She was the most well-known human on the planet. Her tour last year had grossed more than Elton John’s farewell tour.

I watched as Suter’s brows slid together, his Adam’s apple bobbing hard in his throat.

And then, I swore against all fucking logic that the corner of his mouth curled into something very much resembling a smile.

Not a cocky grin, not a sneer — a genuine smile.

It shocked me almost as much as when my daughter did the same the other night, and Aleks wobbled past us and toward the locker room, mumbling something about taking a quick break.

Coach and I watched him go, blinking at his back and then at each other.

“That was interesting,” Coach surmised, a thumb pointed over his shoulder to where Aleks had disappeared.

“Or creepy,” I volleyed. “I think his smile scares me more than his scowl. What the fuck was that about?”

“I heard they grew up together.”

Coach and I whipped our heads toward Carter, and it was like Coach just realized he was there. He grinned and pulled him in for a hug, squeezing his shoulder when they broke apart.

“Who?” I asked.

“Him and Mia.”

“No fucking way,” Vince said, crossing his arms and leaning against the boards. “How does that make sense? He grew up in Germany, no?”

“Her parents were his billet family,” Jaxson said, chugging from his water bottle. “Pretty sure he lived with them through high school — at least during the hockey seasons.”

Coach’s lips turned down in a huh gesture, like this was news to him, but nothing too wild to believe. Carter grinned wryly like he knew something the rest of us didn’t. And I just blinked.

Because I’d never seen that asshole show any kind of emotion that came close to what flashed across his face at the mention of her.

My wheels were spinning the rest of the day, and when we crushed New York four to one that night, we had Aleks Suter to thank.

He scored three times — a hat trick.

He didn’t get even one penalty.

And at the end of every period, I swore I saw his gaze sweeping the suites like he was looking for someone.