Page 1 of Puck You
Prologue
Sebastian
Two minutes and one goal were all that stood between me andthe national championship.I’d imagined this moment to the point of obsession, but never once had it played out like this: a tied score with only one hundred and twenty seconds on the clock, triggering a wild scramble to win in the final moments of the game.
The only person I could blame was myself.For the first time in my hockey career, I’d allowed something outside the rink to follow me onto the ice.It was a mistake that had cost us an early lead, a mistake I couldn’t afford to make in the NCAA Frozen Four national championship.As the clock continued to wind down, it was all I could do to remind myself that nothing else mattered in this moment, not even the woman I loved.
From the bench, I watched as our third line fumbled the puck straight into the waiting sticks of Minnesota’s defense.My gloved fingers tightened around the edge of the metal beneath me.This game was never going to be easy.The Bulldogs were a powerful force on the rink, a seasoned team with years of experience under their belts, but we had an edge—me—and I was going to do whatever it took to make sure our team was celebrating when the confetti rained down.
Ninety seconds left.
My pulse skyrocketed as Rowling intercepted a slapshot from the Bulldog’s right winger.The junior had barely gained control of the puck when number six from the opposing team landed a nasty cross-check.An uproar swept through the arena as the referee blew his whistle, and number six was sent off to wait out his time in the sin bin.
Go time.
Back in possession following the face-off, and with added advantage of outnumbering the opposing team, we movedthe puck around in quick passes, keeping Minnesota at bay as we soared into enemy territory.I concentrated my energy on finding the perfect gap: a brief opening that would cement my name and the Dallard University Ravens in history forever.But Kent jumped the gun: his snap shot went high, bouncing off the plexiglass and tangling in the back of the net.There was a momentary scramble before the referee blew his whistle to signal the play was dead.I glanced at the game clock.Forty seconds was more than enough time.
Focus, Sebastian.All you need to do is focus.
All I could hear was the sound of my own rushing blood as I fell into place at the perimeter of the red circle.I was on the puck less than a second after it dropped, backhanding it to Devon as he shot off from the board side into position behind me.He caught it with the very tip of his stick and pushed out for a quick-release shot, one that I knew would inevitably be blocked.I drove toward the net as the puck flew by and ricocheted off the goalie’s kneepads.The rebound met my stick with a satisfying crack, hurtling the puck back toward the goal just as a massive form descended on me.There was no mistaking the sickening pop that tore through my knee as I was struck from the side, or the burning agony that followed.The ice rushed toward me as the horn blared.A furious pain overwhelmed my senses, drowning out the roar of the crowd and the clash of celebrating bodies above me.As the exhilarated faces of my teammates swarmed above, I knew something was terribly wrong.I’d won us the game, but at what cost?
Chapter 1
Sebastian
“You won’t get any second chances this year, Sebastian.I made allowances for your poor grades while you recovered from your injury, but that won’t continue.”
I gritted my teeth and forced myself to remain silent in the wake of Dean Adler’s scolding.His weathered face was not a kind sight, and there was a tiny piece of unidentifiable food hanging from his overgrown mustache.It moved up and down as he berated me about my academic performance last semester.Apparently, this school had only been willing to make exceptions for me when I was their star athlete.Now that I was damaged goods in their eyes, that special treatment no longer applied.
“I can assure you my grades won’t be a problem this semester,” I told him.“I’m recovered and well.”
Recovered—yes.Well?That was an entirely different matter.
“Your academic advisor will be checking in with me on a regular basis.If there are any issues, I will know.”
I nodded politely in response, but my eyes conveyedsomething entirely different.Fuck you,they said.Fuck you for treating me like a washout after everything I did for this school.If I wasn’t so practiced in my control, I might have let the words slip.But mouthing off wouldn’t do me any favors.I couldn’t afford to piss anyone off, not with my future on the line.Soon enough, the entire school—Dean Adler included—would realize how wrong they’d been to assume I was even close to finished.
“You’re free to go, Sebastian.”
I retreated from his stuffy office without so much as a goodbye.In the past, Dean Adler had gone out of his way to kiss my ass.After all, as the star of the hockey team, I was Dallard University’s golden boy.Even after I tore my ACL, everyone was hopeful I’d make a quick return to the ice.But my surgery had been more complicated than expected, which extended my physical therapy for several months, so I’d rushed back to the rink prematurely.I’d wanted to prove that I was still the same player.More importantly, I’d needed to show the Red Wings that I was ready for the big league.But even after ten months of recovering, I wasn’t in the same shape I’d been in the year before, and my attempted return to the ice had been nothing less than mortifying.After that, everyone was quick to forget my part in leading the men’s hockey team to their first national championship, as a sophomore no less.All it took was one terrible performance for the dean to lose interest in his favorite toy.It made me all the more determined to spend my final year proving everyone wrong.
Despite the early hour, campus was buzzing with activity as I emerged from the administrative building.Over the last fewdays, students had trickled back into town as summer break came to an end.With classes set to begin on Monday, the last-minute scramble to get ready for the semester had begun.I set off for thehockey facility under the gaze of intrusive eyes, keeping to one of the tree-lined paths that cut through the school grounds.Everyoneat Dallard knew who I was, and that notoriety couldn’t be avoided.Even before my injury, I’d never liked being goggled at.I could tune out the attention on the ice, but it wasn’t just when I was playing: it was media interviews, student newspaper features, and a heightened profile once NHL scouts were involved.After the initial story broke about my injury, the buzz had eventually quieted down.There were a few articles speculating about my return to hockey, but I wasn’t interested in publicly discussing my healing process.That didn’t curb the students’ interest in me, though.If anything, people stared more than before, but now they looked at me like I was someone to be pitied.
Once I ducked into the safety of DuLane Arena, the tension in my shoulders released.Since freshman year, the state-of-the-art training facility had served as my place of refuge.Within these walls, I felt a deep sense of belonging.On game days, the building was always packed with thousands of fans, but today the place was empty, and I gave myself a moment to bask in the solitude.
I spent most of my time in the lower levels of the DuLane.The locker room was just below the arena, but even further underground was an expansive training facility, recovery center, a second rink, and several offices for the coaching staff and head trainer.I took the set of elevators off the main entrance down to the locker room, holding my badge up to the sensor above the button panel and selecting B1.Even after five years, the place still had that new-construction smell, with the exception of the locker rooms.Fortunately, they were bleached in the offseason, so there were no foul odors to turn my nose as I slipped inside.Every inch of the room was bathed in Dallard blue and green, and a large, jet-black raven—the school mascot—was painted across the center of the floor.
After my miserable meeting with Dean Adler, I wanted nothing more than to lose myself on the ice.In a matter of minutes, I was changed into my gear and walking through the sloped tunnel leading up to the rink entrance.A burst of cool air hit my face as I entered the arena, and I was immediately met with the sound of blades carving through the ice.
An unfamiliar form flew over the recently zambonied rink, maneuvering through a long line of cones with a puck at the tip of his hockey stick.I allowed myself a moment to appreciate the sight of him cutting across the ice in clean, precise sweeps.He moved with a grace most guys spent years trying to perfect, as if the hockey stick was a natural extension of his arm.I inched closer to the rink, eager to get a better look.The player was slim, much smaller than the other guys on the team, and I wondered if he was a freshman.You didn’t have to be massive to play hockey—if anything, size could be a hindrance—but this guy was tiny.Despite his small stature, he clearly knew what he was doing.Maybe the coaches thought they could bulk him up in time for next season.They’d have to if they wanted him to survive the league.
He didn’t notice me until I slipped inside the players’ bench.Ice shavings flew from beneath the blades of his skates as he came to an abrupt stop at the opposite end of the rink.He glanced around, as if to check if anyone else was watching, before pushing off and heading in my direction.When he was close enough that I could begin to make out his face behind the cage, he gripped underneath his helmet and pulled it off in oneclean motion.A thick brown braid fell over his shoulder.
No, not his shoulder—hershoulder.
She was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, several strands of her dark hair clinging to the skin around her face.A pair of wide brown eyes fringed with thick lashes peered back at me in open curiosity.Slowly, my gaze traced the outline of her arched eyebrows, traveling down the slope of her freckled nose and settling on a pair of slightly parted lips.She had a dangerous mouth, one I was immediately tempted to taste.Lips with the power to make me forget all about my girlfriend.
“What, never seen a girl before?”Her words came out in a teasing rasp that caused the hair on my arms to rise.
