Page 50 of Blocked Shot
CHAPTER 24
JAKE
Jake sits on the couch, remote in hand, flipping through channels until he lands on a hockey game. He barely registers the teams that are playing, but he needs something to distract him from the mess inside his head.
Even in the warmth of Natalie’s childhood home, a heavy weight presses him from all sides.
Broken ribs mean he’s out four to six weeks, minimum. Could be longer if they don’t heal right.
That’s ten, maybe twelve games. A quarter of the season. A dozen chances to prove himself, to fight for the team, to show he’s still got it. Now he’s benched. Just another guy in the press box, stuck in a suit, watching everyone else do the one thing he’s built his life around.
And what if the team plays better without him? What if someone younger steps up, and suddenly his spot isn’t a given anymore?
The physical pain is sharp—but it’s nothing compared to the storm in his head.
He clenches his jaw, rubbing a hand over his face, but the frustration doesn’t fade. He has worked his entire life for this. Hockey isn’t just a job. It’s who he is. And now, for the first time, he has to consider the possibility that it might not be there waiting for him. What if hedoesn’t recover the same way? What if his body doesn’t let him push like it used to? What if—fuck, he can barely let himself think it—this is the beginning of the end?
There’s a famous saying that athletes die twice: once at retirement, and again when they truly kick the bucket. He’s only thirty-five. Too young to be done. But hockey is brutal, and teams don’t wait forever. His contract is up at the end of the season, and if he isn’t back to full strength, if he isn’t the player he used to be, what team would take a chance on him? Would his own team even want him anymore?
Natalie stands in the doorway, arms crossed, her figure framed by the warm light of the kitchen. She’s wearing a fitted sweater and leggings, nothing fancy, but damn if she doesn’t look incredible. Jake swallows and drags his gaze back to the TV before she catches him staring. He wants to grab her and carry her upstairs, bury himself so deep inside her that he forgets all his problems.
Jake hears her retreat to the kitchen and rifle through her cabinets. As she fills a pot with water, he watches her move out of the corner of his eye, the way she tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear, the soft hum she makes under her breath. She’s not even trying, but she’s completely got him.
“You like garlic bread?” she calls over her shoulder.
Jake blinks, realizing he’s been staring again. “Love it.”
He shifts on the couch like that somehow resets his brain. His ribs throb when he moves, forcing him to exhale sharply.
Natalie returns to the couch, her gaze softening. “Maybe you should take something. There’s ibuprofen in the cabinet.”
Jake waves her off. “I’m fine.”
Natalie arches an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. Big tough guy. Too macho for an Advil.”
He smirks but doesn’t argue. Instead, he forces himself to focus on the game, letting the familiar drone of the announcer’s commentary drown out his awareness of her. It barely works.
Thirty minutes later, she sets two steaming bowls of pasta, a plate of buttery garlic bread, and a bowl of caesar salad on the coffee table in front of him. “Dinner is served.”
“See?” She drops onto the couch beside him, close enough that theair between them crackles with warmth, even though they aren’t touching. A hint of mischief lingers in her voice as she tilts her head. “No trouble at all.”
He twirls some pasta around his fork. The moment the first bite hits his tongue, Jake moans and closes his eyes. The pasta is perfect. It’s hot and slick with a luscious, garlicky tomato sauce that coats his lips.
“Mmmph, that’s so good. I think I just came.”
“Jake…Jesus!” Natalie exclaims.
“Jesus didn’t make this pasta, Nat.” He eagerly shoves another forkful into his mouth and sinks deeper into the couch, savoring every flavor.
“I am scandalized.”
“You’re the one that made the orgasm pasta,” Jake quips. Color blooms across Natalie’s cheeks. Is she blushing? Jake wonders how far he can push this, how much deeper that flush might go. “I had a full-body reaction. My toes curled. My soul ascended. If you’re not careful, I might actually moan.”
She nudges his arm playfully. “I think you already did, twice.”
“And if I did, I have no shame. I fully admit my heart is in my stomach.”
They settle into a comfortable rhythm—eating, watching the game, exchanging easy banter. Natalie has excellent hockey knowledge, which Jake finds incredibly sexy. The earlier tension has softened, replaced by something lighter, but still charged. Warmth spreads through Jake’s chest as he watches Natalie chirp at the referee on the screen, her eyes bright, her guard down.
