Page 1 of Home for the Hockey-Days

CHAPTER 1

August

(Author note: Please be aware this novella is setbeforeFreezing the Puck. The de la Peña twins are freshmen, Ares isn’t at UCR yet, and August Kade is captain of the Raccoons.)

Sweat streams down my neck as I step out of the gym. When my hot, sticky face hits the cold, December air, a shiver skates down my spine. The weather report said we have snow on the way, and from the bite in the breeze, I’d say it’s not too far from falling.

Mom would lose her mind if we got a white Christmas.

Me on the other hand? I could do without the reminder of the festive season, but everywhere I go, there it is. The gym had at least three fully decked out Christmas trees. Snow is on the way. And if I was playing that stupid Whamageddon game where you try to last from the first day of December until Christmas without hearing ‘Last Christmas’ by Wham! I’d have lost on the first day of the month.

This time of year is just another reminder of everything I don’t have, including the empty seat at the dinner table wheremy brother should be. We’ve never been well off, never had a lot, but when my big brother, Todd, decided to try to take stuff that didn’t belong to him, he got himself fifteen years in prison for a string of armed robberies.

Don’t get me wrong, he deserves to do the time for his crimes, but the impact it’s had on my family, my own life... Woof. Some days the pressure feels like it’s crushing my ribcage.

I sigh as I sling my duffel bag into the trunk of Rusty, my faithful motor. My twenty-year-old, falling apart vehicle should probably be in the car heaven by now, but she’s as stubborn as I am, and refuses to quit.

Thank fuck, since I couldn’t afford to replace her any time soon.

When I slam the trunk closed, movement in my periphery draws my attention from the flecks of rust that fall onto the ground of the gym parking lot.

A short, curvy woman with long, auburn waves, stands poised like she’s walking toward the gym. She turns on her heel, and heads back to a car a few rows behind Rusty.

I’ve forgotten shit for the gym in my car damn near every time I come, so it’s nice to know I’m not alone. When I start the engine, I realize that funky smell permeating the confined space is me, so I open the driver’s side window.

In my wing mirror, the beautiful woman stands a few feet behind Rusty, frozen in place, eyes wide. She quickly disappears out of sight, and from the slam of a car door close by, I’d say she got back into her vehicle.

Weird.

I’m almost out of the parking lot when I catch her running into the gym in my rear-view.

Wait.

Was she... afraid of me?

Shit.

I’m a big dude. Fine, I’m fucking huge. Close to six-and-a-half feet, built like a fucking tank, broad chest, wide shoulders, thick thighs, but I’m not scary. At least, I didn’t think I was all that scary off the ice. On the ice I’m happy to make my opposition shit their pants.

The honk of a horn behind me stops me from thinking about the fear in her wide eyes and how she avoided my gaze. I didn’tdoanything, other than open my window—fuck, she probably thought I opened it to talk to her. Talk about inconvenient timing.

Shit.

This is why women would choose getting stuck with a bear in the woods over a guy, right?

I rake my hand through my hair, shaking my head when the fucker behind me honks again. Asshole. I flip him off and tear out of there like someone’s giving chase.

Or, at least that’s what I would have done if Rusty could do zero to sixty in less than ten minutes. Exaggeration? Perhaps, but some days it feels like it.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m at my dorm. It takes less than fifteen to shower off the gym filth, get changed, and pick up some stray dirty laundry that might have been stinking up my floor for longer than I care to admit.

Before you can say “Cedar Rapids Raccoons,” I’m sitting at my favorite table in Bitches Brew with a dark chocolate and raspberry mocha cradled between my palms waiting for some of my teammates to come and kick my ass. I don’t have a lot of money, but I love Bitches Brew, and once a week I do everything in my power to afford a little luxury. Ramen noodles are my best friend.

It wouldn’t be a stretch to say that it’s what keeps me out of a cell next to my brother. Okay, fine, another exaggeration, but orange really isn’t my color.

The cafe looks like Christmas threw up in it. Instead of theusual Christmas cheer, everything’s pink. Pink trees, pink lights, pink Santa hats... just... pink.

Am I early? If so, I’m taking up a huge table just for me, when the place is starting to fill up. I scroll back through group chat to make sure I’ve got the time right.

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