Page 31 of Pucking Off-Sides With My Brother's Best Friend

I’m always one bad play away from being yesterday’s news. But that’s the price of chasing greatness.

You either adapt and survive, or you fade away. And I’ll be damned if I’m going anywhere.

My cell ringing jolts me out of my inner thoughts, and I scowl when I see who’s calling. Trust my old man to call right when I need a moment alone. I know, though, that if I don’t answer, the next time I do, there’ll be hell to pay. With a deep sigh, I connect the call and walk into the kitchen.

“Hello, Dad.”

“Son,” he replies, his voice rough, no doubt from the pack of cigarettes he’s probably already smoked today. “I saw the game.”

I nod, though he can’t see me. There isn’t anything for me to say, so I wait for his opening volley. I don’t have to wait long for what I know is inevitably coming.

“You’re looking a little slow coming down the right side, and your attempt on goal showed a couple of seconds hesitation. You should’ve put it in the goal faster than that.” I clench my jaw at his criticisms. Even though I know they’re coming, it’s still enough to sour my mood even further. “Their attempt on goal shouldn’t have even happened. Your defensive play is still as lackluster as ever. That type of shit won’t fly in the majors, andyou fucking know that. Jax got you on that team. How do you think it’ll reflect on him if you play like a girl?”

I know it’s not really a question. It’s all talk from someone who never even made it into the minor leagues himself. I know he’s full of shit and just saying this crap to make himself feel better.

I’ve heard all that shit in therapy, but it’s still enough to make me feel like that same little kid who thought he wasn’t worthy. I hate that he can make me feel like that even when I know I’m giving this shit my best.

“Well?” He continues. “You ain’t got anything to say to me, boy? Are you going to tell me that was the best game you had in you?”

I suck on my teeth before replying. “No.”

“No, what?”

“No, sir.”

He grunts, and I clench my fist at my side before purposefully relaxing. “Get your shit together or come home and find something else to do. You’re blowing it, and the team doesn’t need to waste money on someone who doesn’t give a fuck.”

The line goes dead before I can respond, and I slowly drop my hand, staring at the screen. I grip the kitchen counter tighter, my father’s harsh words echoing in my head as resentment, unwelcome and dangerous, takes root.

His criticisms used to cut deep, leaving me raw and bleeding. Now? They’re just fucking annoying. But that little voice inside, the one that still craves his approval? That shit’s harder to shake than a defender on my ass during a power play. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. The cool granite under my palms grounds me, reminding me where I am.

I’m not that scared kid anymore, desperate for a pat on the back. I’m a fucking pro hockey player. But even as I think it, I can feel that old doubt creeping in, as persistent as a bad high stick. That’s what he always does—drives by with his shitty criticism and then dips out before you can say a word in response. He thinks that makes him in control, but I know what it really is. He’s a fucking coward. I squeeze the phone in my hand, envisioning myself throwing the fucking thing across the room, but I’m not trying to get a new one. I won’t let him get me so out of control.

I take a deep breath in and lean my hands on the kitchen counter. Focusing on my breathing helps take the edge off my anger, but when I hear a door open in the hallway behind me, I scowl and hurriedly try to put on my indifferent mask.

“Aiden? Are you alright?”

Fuck, I think to myself. I had hoped it was Jax coming home early. I’m not sure if I’m ready to deal with Aurora and my father on the same day. When a hand lands on my shoulder, I turn to look at her and nearly have to turn away again.

She’s decked out in a form-fitting blouse that hugs her ample breasts and cuts to a vee, showing off all that cleavage. Herjeans form-fitting, emphasizing her shapely hips that I know feel perfect in my grip.

She’s a fucking fox.

Aurora’s eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I’m thrown back to that night years ago when those same eyes looked at me. I push the memory away. But as she stands there, looking like every wet dream I’ve ever had, I can’t help but think, what if?

“You look…” I trail off, not knowing how to say she looks amazing without coming off as creepy. “That’s a nice outfit.”

Aurora’s eyes widen, but then she smiles, and a small bit of my anger melts away. “Thanks. I tried not to overdo it since it’s kind of like a starter date like Jax said.”

Date.That word reminds me of why she’s looking so nice. It’s not for me. It’s for that Mark guy. The whole thought of it makes me want to punch something. I have to say something to diffuse things.

“So, where are you and the guy going for dinner?”

Aurora pulls her phone out of her pocket and taps on the screen a couple of times. “We’re supposed to be going to Tony’s.”

I know that spot. It’s popular among the locals who want to get out and about without driving to a larger city. It’s dressier than I had expected for a first date.

“That’s fancy as fuck. Didn’t realize Mark was making money like that.”

---