Poke Check
Summary:Harrisburg Railers #4
One scorching summer in each other’s arms could never be enough.
Stanislav “Stan” Lyamin is happy playing for the Railers. The towering goalie is well-loved, respected, and making a home for himself even though that home only contains him, his cat, and his growing Pokemon trading card collection. Stan prefers it that way.
He’d given his heart to a man in a secret affair, and that man walked away, leaving Stan shattered. Now Erik is back in his life, and he has the same tumultuous effect he had on Stan’s heart as before. This time it’s not just a kissable mouth and sweet blond curls that Erik has brought to Harrisburg, there’s a soon-to-be ex-wife and a precious baby.
Despite the vow Stan made to hate Erik forever, he’s now finding it harder and harder to turn away.
Erik Gunnarsson’s dream had always been to play in the NHL, he just never imagined he’d land a contract with the Railers. Who would have thought that fate would put him on the same team as Stanislav Lyamin; the man whose heart he’d callously broken?
Secrets and lies had defined their summer relationship, and the choice that Erik made to end it all haunts him still. In the middle of a messy divorce and with a baby in tow, Erik finds himself back in Stan’s life. Now all he has to do is be the best dad he can be, prove to the team that he deserves the chance to stay on the roster and try his hardest to get Stan to forgive him.
Is it possible to persuade a man who hates you to give love a second chance?
Summary:
Owatonna U #4
Under the Christmas lights strung outside a snowy Minnesota cabin, Ryker and Jacob face a future where nothing will be the same again.
Fortunate timing means that Ryker and Jacob can spend a few days together over Christmas in a cabin on the family farm. What’s better is that Scott and Ben are coming as well, with Hayne and Ethan in tow. Ryker can’t imagine a better way to spend time with the man he loves, and the friends he misses, and somehow he knows that this Christmas will be the best one ever. Hockey on a frozen pond, kisses under Christmas lights, and sharing time with Jacob are the best gifts he could ever receive.
Long distance relationships are brutal, Jacob can attest to that fact. So, when Ryker gets a few days off over the Raptors’ Christmas break, the hard-working Minnesota farmer is beyond thrilled. When they find out that their buddies from Owatonna U. are making the trip as well, the holidays are looking to be just about perfect. Jacob has a question for Ryker burning in his heart, and he isn’t asking for much—just a few fun-filled days with old friends and a yes from the man of his dreams.
Fortunate timing means that Ryker and Jacob can spend a few days together over Christmas in a cabin on the family farm. What’s better is that Scott and Ben are coming as well, with Hayne and Ethan in tow. Ryker can’t imagine a better way to spend time with the man he loves, and the friends he misses, and somehow he knows that this Christmas will be the best one ever. Hockey on a frozen pond, kisses under Christmas lights, and sharing time with Jacob are the best gifts he could ever receive.
Long distance relationships are brutal, Jacob can attest to that fact. So, when Ryker gets a few days off over the Raptors’ Christmas break, the hard-working Minnesota farmer is beyond thrilled. When they find out that their buddies from Owatonna U. are making the trip as well, the holidays are looking to be just about perfect. Jacob has a question for Ryker burning in his heart, and he isn’t asking for much—just a few fun-filled days with old friends and a yes from the man of his dreams.
Summary:
Arizona Raptors #1
When opposites attract, it’s not just the team that’s in for a shake-up.
When a stipulation in his father’s will throws Mark back into a family that disowned him, he has only two things on his mind; buying his way out of contractual obligations and running in the opposite direction as fast as he can. When neither option pans out, he finds he is now a one third owner of the struggling Arizona Raptors hockey team, and that is just about the worst thing he could have happened to him. Not only does he hate hockey, but the Raptors are a bottom-of-the-league team, rife with jealousies and anger in a locker room that only knows self-pity. How is he supposed to help turn things around when the only way to start fixing things is to form an alliance with the estranged siblings he’d run from fifteen years earlier?
Then there’s Rowen Carmichael, a stubborn, opinionated, irritating man with superiority issues and questionable taste in music. Butting heads with Rowen, who he’d never even wanted to hire in the first place, is one thing, but there is no way in hell that he will allow the growing attraction to the new coach become anything more. Until with everything on the line, he has to make decisions that will change his life forever.
After years of collegiate coaching, Rowen is given an offer that he simply can’t refuse, although perhaps he should. When he’s presented with the chance to take one of the worst teams in the league and mold them into a future cup contender, the challenge is just too alluring to pass up. He leaves his beloved Ontario behind and moves west to the arid city of Tucson where he is faced with a broken team, shoddy management, and players overflowing with resentment and bigotry.
Never in his twenty years of hockey has he ever seen such a raging dumpster fire of an organization. Yet there’s something about this team and this city that compels him to roll up his sleeves and start dismantling. He has his eye on a new associate coach that’s bound to makes waves, and several key players who should be sent packing. Now all he has to do is convince the new owners of the team that his choices are for the best. If only Mark Westman-Reid, one of three siblings who now own the Raptors, wasn’t so damned rock-headed, so damned snooty, and so damned appealing his job might be a bit easier.
When a stipulation in his father’s will throws Mark back into a family that disowned him, he has only two things on his mind; buying his way out of contractual obligations and running in the opposite direction as fast as he can. When neither option pans out, he finds he is now a one third owner of the struggling Arizona Raptors hockey team, and that is just about the worst thing he could have happened to him. Not only does he hate hockey, but the Raptors are a bottom-of-the-league team, rife with jealousies and anger in a locker room that only knows self-pity. How is he supposed to help turn things around when the only way to start fixing things is to form an alliance with the estranged siblings he’d run from fifteen years earlier?
Then there’s Rowen Carmichael, a stubborn, opinionated, irritating man with superiority issues and questionable taste in music. Butting heads with Rowen, who he’d never even wanted to hire in the first place, is one thing, but there is no way in hell that he will allow the growing attraction to the new coach become anything more. Until with everything on the line, he has to make decisions that will change his life forever.
After years of collegiate coaching, Rowen is given an offer that he simply can’t refuse, although perhaps he should. When he’s presented with the chance to take one of the worst teams in the league and mold them into a future cup contender, the challenge is just too alluring to pass up. He leaves his beloved Ontario behind and moves west to the arid city of Tucson where he is faced with a broken team, shoddy management, and players overflowing with resentment and bigotry.
Never in his twenty years of hockey has he ever seen such a raging dumpster fire of an organization. Yet there’s something about this team and this city that compels him to roll up his sleeves and start dismantling. He has his eye on a new associate coach that’s bound to makes waves, and several key players who should be sent packing. Now all he has to do is convince the new owners of the team that his choices are for the best. If only Mark Westman-Reid, one of three siblings who now own the Raptors, wasn’t so damned rock-headed, so damned snooty, and so damned appealing his job might be a bit easier.
Back Check
Summary:
Boston Rebels #2
Meeting Joachim could save his daughter’s life, but it may well cost Isaac his heart.
It’s been one hell of a year for Joachim Löfgren. After a long summer in rehab, he’s been moved to a new town, one far away from the warm Florida sun he so adores, to bolster a struggling Boston defense since the departure of their beloved team captain. He hasn’t even unpacked his skates properly when fate lands another blow, and he’s told that he is dad to a gravely ill child he never knew existed. It’s an easy decision for the burly defenseman to help and he opens up his new home to his child and her guardian Isaac. He’s instantly enchanted with the preschooler as well as her uncle and decides that his life will only be complete if his daughter is part of it. Filing for custody is the only option he feels he has, but this throws his budding relationship with Isaac into utter chaos. The two men soon find themselves on opposite sides of the courtroom as they both fight for the life they feel is best for Sophia.
Despite grieving for the loss of his sister, Isaac doesn’t hesitate to take on the responsibility for his newborn niece Sophia, creating a brand new family of two built on love and laughter. He has a steady income painting pet portraits during the day, but it’s the subversive and satirical cartoons he draws at night that silence his thoughts in the dark. They don’t have much as a family, but he is Sophia’s dad now, and nothing and no one will ever come between them. When a routine pediatric checkup shows that Sophia is ill, it forces Isaac to confront every one of his fears. Finding a matching donor is her only hope, and Isaac begins the journey to find Sophia’s mysterious father. There are no names or dates in his sister’s battered journal, and all Isaac knows is that he’s looking for a hockey player who was nothing more than a one-night stand. Little does he know that finding Joachim could destroy everything.
Poke Check
Original Review February 2018:
Stanislav Lyamin is loving his time as the Railers' goalie. He has his team, his cat, and his Pokeman cards and that is enough. Having given his heart to another and then having it ripped out was enough for him, he's content. Erik Gunnarsson is trying to make a life for him and his infant son, so when he's signed to play for the Railers not only does it give him the chance to fullfil his dream of playing for the NHL but also the chance at stability for his little boy. Knowing the team's goalie is the man he left brokenhearted is a double edged sword. Can Stan and Erik work together to bring victory to the team and will they be able to heal their hearts or is too late?
Followers of my reviews probably recall from the first three entries in the Harrisburg Railers series that I am not a hockey fan. Again, I don't hate the sport(I actually watched quite a bit of it during the Olympics this month😉) but if all the hockey arenas were to disappear from the world tomorrow I wouldn't miss it. I'm not trying to insult hockey fans or be disparaging of the sport I just think its worth mentioning because I absolutely LOVE, LOVE, LOVE this series so not being a hockey fan I think it says it better than anything how amazing the authors are in telling these stories.
As for Poke Check, well when I heard that Stan was getting his own story I was beyond stoked. Stan is the man! Yes, I went there😉 When it comes to Erik, well I wanted to hate him for breaking Stan's heart but he is just so lovable. Personally, I don't think there is anything sexier than a man who is taking care of a child, especially when Erik is so loving towards little Noah, so determined to give him a good life and has sacrificed so much to do so. The pairs' reconnecting is just the right pace to make Poke Check a close second in the series for me. I don't think any pairing will top Tennant and Jared from Changing Lines but Stan and Erik give them a darn good race. One more thing about Stan: I've read many an accents in books and I hardly ever "hear" the accents in my head but with Stan, it was like he was sitting right next to me and reading me the book. Every word, every nuance, every mistaken pronunciation or phrase, that's how I read it in my head so I just want to say kudos to whichever author was in charge of bringing Stan to life.
One more thing: if you are like me and not a hockey fan, don't worry because Scott & Locey add just the right amount of detail to the action of the game so non-fans can follow along and yet not feel like parts of it are from Hockey for Dummies. Poke Check is a wondrous blend of romance, drama, lust, family, friendship, and love. If asked should the series be read in order? I am going to say yes. Each entry is technically a standalone as each is a different pairing but I just find the friendships grow with each one so I definitely recommend in order but it doesn't have to be, you won't be lost if read out of sequence.
Stanislav Lyamin is loving his time as the Railers' goalie. He has his team, his cat, and his Pokeman cards and that is enough. Having given his heart to another and then having it ripped out was enough for him, he's content. Erik Gunnarsson is trying to make a life for him and his infant son, so when he's signed to play for the Railers not only does it give him the chance to fullfil his dream of playing for the NHL but also the chance at stability for his little boy. Knowing the team's goalie is the man he left brokenhearted is a double edged sword. Can Stan and Erik work together to bring victory to the team and will they be able to heal their hearts or is too late?
Followers of my reviews probably recall from the first three entries in the Harrisburg Railers series that I am not a hockey fan. Again, I don't hate the sport(I actually watched quite a bit of it during the Olympics this month😉) but if all the hockey arenas were to disappear from the world tomorrow I wouldn't miss it. I'm not trying to insult hockey fans or be disparaging of the sport I just think its worth mentioning because I absolutely LOVE, LOVE, LOVE this series so not being a hockey fan I think it says it better than anything how amazing the authors are in telling these stories.
As for Poke Check, well when I heard that Stan was getting his own story I was beyond stoked. Stan is the man! Yes, I went there😉 When it comes to Erik, well I wanted to hate him for breaking Stan's heart but he is just so lovable. Personally, I don't think there is anything sexier than a man who is taking care of a child, especially when Erik is so loving towards little Noah, so determined to give him a good life and has sacrificed so much to do so. The pairs' reconnecting is just the right pace to make Poke Check a close second in the series for me. I don't think any pairing will top Tennant and Jared from Changing Lines but Stan and Erik give them a darn good race. One more thing about Stan: I've read many an accents in books and I hardly ever "hear" the accents in my head but with Stan, it was like he was sitting right next to me and reading me the book. Every word, every nuance, every mistaken pronunciation or phrase, that's how I read it in my head so I just want to say kudos to whichever author was in charge of bringing Stan to life.
One more thing: if you are like me and not a hockey fan, don't worry because Scott & Locey add just the right amount of detail to the action of the game so non-fans can follow along and yet not feel like parts of it are from Hockey for Dummies. Poke Check is a wondrous blend of romance, drama, lust, family, friendship, and love. If asked should the series be read in order? I am going to say yes. Each entry is technically a standalone as each is a different pairing but I just find the friendships grow with each one so I definitely recommend in order but it doesn't have to be, you won't be lost if read out of sequence.
Christmas Lights
Original Review December 2019:
So much goodness that we've come to know in the world of Owatonna U, Harrisburg Railers, and Arizona Raptors and it's all wrapped up in a wonderful holiday package. Talk about a surprise gift from Santa!🎅
It's no secret that Ryker and Jacob was my favorite in the Owatonna U series and I'm so glad to see another chunk of their story continue on in more than just passing conversations throughout the Raptors series. As for Jacob, well what's not to love? Growing up a farmer's daughter I know how hard it is to keep things going in the wake of health issues and time. There comes a point that no matter how hard you work there may be only one option left, even knowing it's the only course of action doesn't make it any easier to accept. Luckily, Jacob has Ryker.
Now that's about all I'm going to say about Christmas Lights' plot. It's a holiday novella so there is minimal angst, tons of spirit, friends, family, and of course as the title suggests: Christmas lights. We get to see a little bit of the hockey that Scott & Locey's world is full of, we get to see Owatonna U returning favorites, but mostly we see Ryker and Jacob spend the holiday together at one of the most pivotal points in their life: the next big step. Will the holiday go as either plans? For that answer you'll have to read for yourself.
I know this isn't the last time we'll hear from Ryker or see Jacob and their friends, I'm sure they'll pop up in the authors' Arizona Raptors series but if it does happen to be the last time they "star" in a story, it's a wonderful holiday treat.
One last note: if you are wondering about reading order, well I highly recommend reading Rkyer(Owatonna U #1) definitely before Christmas Lights. Scott(#2) and Benoit(#3) are not necessarily a must before this holiday novella, there are a few scenes between the friends and their significant others that will mesh better knowing their respective journeys but it is not a must. To be honest though I can't imagine not having read the series in order but Ryker is probably the only must.
It's no secret that Ryker and Jacob was my favorite in the Owatonna U series and I'm so glad to see another chunk of their story continue on in more than just passing conversations throughout the Raptors series. As for Jacob, well what's not to love? Growing up a farmer's daughter I know how hard it is to keep things going in the wake of health issues and time. There comes a point that no matter how hard you work there may be only one option left, even knowing it's the only course of action doesn't make it any easier to accept. Luckily, Jacob has Ryker.
Now that's about all I'm going to say about Christmas Lights' plot. It's a holiday novella so there is minimal angst, tons of spirit, friends, family, and of course as the title suggests: Christmas lights. We get to see a little bit of the hockey that Scott & Locey's world is full of, we get to see Owatonna U returning favorites, but mostly we see Ryker and Jacob spend the holiday together at one of the most pivotal points in their life: the next big step. Will the holiday go as either plans? For that answer you'll have to read for yourself.
I know this isn't the last time we'll hear from Ryker or see Jacob and their friends, I'm sure they'll pop up in the authors' Arizona Raptors series but if it does happen to be the last time they "star" in a story, it's a wonderful holiday treat.
One last note: if you are wondering about reading order, well I highly recommend reading Rkyer(Owatonna U #1) definitely before Christmas Lights. Scott(#2) and Benoit(#3) are not necessarily a must before this holiday novella, there are a few scenes between the friends and their significant others that will mesh better knowing their respective journeys but it is not a must. To be honest though I can't imagine not having read the series in order but Ryker is probably the only must.
Coast to Coast
Original Review October 2019:
When I heard the Raptors were going to be the next hockey series from RJ Scott & VL Locey I was more than a little apprehensive. I mean sure, it's Scott & Locey at the helm but it was one of the Raptors' star players that took down Railers' star Tennant Rowe so how could a team that has that kind of player on the roster be a pleasant read? Right? Well I needn't have worried because Coast to Coast is just . . . WOW! Okay they may not be the Railers but they are still pretty darn great and chock full of potential.
I'm not going to lie, Mark Westman-Reid really got my goat up in the beginning, but as we quickly learn he has reasons, and very valid reasons, to not want to be there. Even after learning said reasons, I'll fill you in on a little secret: I still wanted to whack him upside the head a few times but eventually he begins to "mellow out" and realizes that sometimes you have to go back to grow and move forward.
As for Rowen Carmichael, well he has his work cut out for him both in his team and the head office, namely Mark Westman-Reid. Even though I'm not a hockey fan I am a sports fan(mostly baseball, football, & college basketball) and though none of my favorite teams have ever had a true rebuilding year, I can safely say that fans don't always appreciate a rebuild because basically it's the head office throwing in the towel for that season while trying to better the team for the future. We get it, we understand it, but that doesn't mean we like the concept of "throwing in the towel" at any point so Rowen has a hard task in front of him but it becomes clear that though he may be new to the big show he has a plan and a stubborn attitude to fight for it and see it through, that is if a certain suit will let him.
Watching Mark and Rowen navigate their new roles in the Raptors organization as well as their attraction to each other is actually quite fun, despite wanting to rap my knuckles to the back of a certain suit's head. They really balance the bantering, bickering, and flirting quite expertly. Will either of them let the other in completely or is it just sex? Will their eventual tentative friendship lead to more? You know what's coming: you have to read Coast to Coast for yourself for those answers.
If you've been reading the Harrisburg Railers and Owatonna U series then you know that Ryker Madsen was drafted to the Arizona Raptors and were left wondering as I was: How could Ryker play for the team who still had the man on the roster that nearly ruined his at-the-time-soon-to-be-but-now-is stepdad, Tennant Rowe? I can't imagine what Ryker was thinking the first time he came face to face with the guy but his upbringing and love for the game shows him to be the better man(I don't think I could've been as good as Ryker but 👍 that he could). Will he be the Tennant Rowe of the Raptors? Maybe but he certainly seems to be the levelheaded peacekeeper and considering where the team is and the mountains they have to climb, he will have his hands full.
Will I love Arizona Raptors as much as Railers? Probably not but I have a feeling that with Scott & Locey behind the scenes that it will come down to Railers coming first because there is so much goodness and awesome feels already for the Raptors that I can't wait to see where the authors take the team and the players next. Now as for needing to read Railers and Owatonna before Raptors? Well for me I can't imagine having not read the others prior and as a series fan I love reading in order even when it comes to spin-offs, sequels, and connecting stories but I don't know that it is a must. Sure there are things mentioned especially regarding Ryker Madsen and his stepfather Tennant Rowe but the authors' do a wonderful job bringing newbies up to speed. However you read it, Coast to Coast is definitely another win-win in my book.
When I heard the Raptors were going to be the next hockey series from RJ Scott & VL Locey I was more than a little apprehensive. I mean sure, it's Scott & Locey at the helm but it was one of the Raptors' star players that took down Railers' star Tennant Rowe so how could a team that has that kind of player on the roster be a pleasant read? Right? Well I needn't have worried because Coast to Coast is just . . . WOW! Okay they may not be the Railers but they are still pretty darn great and chock full of potential.
I'm not going to lie, Mark Westman-Reid really got my goat up in the beginning, but as we quickly learn he has reasons, and very valid reasons, to not want to be there. Even after learning said reasons, I'll fill you in on a little secret: I still wanted to whack him upside the head a few times but eventually he begins to "mellow out" and realizes that sometimes you have to go back to grow and move forward.
As for Rowen Carmichael, well he has his work cut out for him both in his team and the head office, namely Mark Westman-Reid. Even though I'm not a hockey fan I am a sports fan(mostly baseball, football, & college basketball) and though none of my favorite teams have ever had a true rebuilding year, I can safely say that fans don't always appreciate a rebuild because basically it's the head office throwing in the towel for that season while trying to better the team for the future. We get it, we understand it, but that doesn't mean we like the concept of "throwing in the towel" at any point so Rowen has a hard task in front of him but it becomes clear that though he may be new to the big show he has a plan and a stubborn attitude to fight for it and see it through, that is if a certain suit will let him.
Watching Mark and Rowen navigate their new roles in the Raptors organization as well as their attraction to each other is actually quite fun, despite wanting to rap my knuckles to the back of a certain suit's head. They really balance the bantering, bickering, and flirting quite expertly. Will either of them let the other in completely or is it just sex? Will their eventual tentative friendship lead to more? You know what's coming: you have to read Coast to Coast for yourself for those answers.
If you've been reading the Harrisburg Railers and Owatonna U series then you know that Ryker Madsen was drafted to the Arizona Raptors and were left wondering as I was: How could Ryker play for the team who still had the man on the roster that nearly ruined his at-the-time-soon-to-be-but-now-is stepdad, Tennant Rowe? I can't imagine what Ryker was thinking the first time he came face to face with the guy but his upbringing and love for the game shows him to be the better man(I don't think I could've been as good as Ryker but 👍 that he could). Will he be the Tennant Rowe of the Raptors? Maybe but he certainly seems to be the levelheaded peacekeeper and considering where the team is and the mountains they have to climb, he will have his hands full.
Will I love Arizona Raptors as much as Railers? Probably not but I have a feeling that with Scott & Locey behind the scenes that it will come down to Railers coming first because there is so much goodness and awesome feels already for the Raptors that I can't wait to see where the authors take the team and the players next. Now as for needing to read Railers and Owatonna before Raptors? Well for me I can't imagine having not read the others prior and as a series fan I love reading in order even when it comes to spin-offs, sequels, and connecting stories but I don't know that it is a must. Sure there are things mentioned especially regarding Ryker Madsen and his stepfather Tennant Rowe but the authors' do a wonderful job bringing newbies up to speed. However you read it, Coast to Coast is definitely another win-win in my book.
Back Check
Original Review September Book of the Month 2021:
First of all, the black cover in the authors' hockey universe where the book covers are generally light colored helps to set the tone of heartbreak that starts the story off. Just goes to show you that cover colors can sometimes do way more than the character representation on said cover to highlight a story's emotions. Brilliant work, Meredith Russell on another great cover design!
Second, part of me wants to be upset with Scott & Locey for making me tear up in a crowded hospital cafeteria but the truth is they represented what teared me up so beautifully that I can't be anything but pleased. This isn't a spoiler because we know that Isaac is caring for his niece because his sister died so I'll touch on it. To be honest, the part that made me tear up is not a lengthy scene but still close to my heart. My mom has been in the hospital for over 100 days now and I've been at her side the entire time so that's why I was in a crowded cafeteria when I was reading Back Check. When I was born my mom had pre-eclampsia and was in a coma for 4 days but survived and when I read it in a book it always makes me grateful for how lucky our family was that Mom survived but it also makes me sad for the character that doesn't. The scene is short and only a few pages if that but the authors wrote the emotions so spot-on that I had to start poking at my eyes a bit so I wouldn't go from a few tears to full on blubbering.
As for Joachim and Isaac. My great grandfather was an alcoholic who took his own life a year before my mother was born but it left a lasting impression on the family so whenever I see someone, in fiction or reality, take the path of recovery I will always be rooting for them and it's no different with Joachim. I'll admit, there are a few scenes where I'd like to take a frying pan to his head to knock a little sense in but I can say the same about Isaac. Communication is key and bad communication or rush-to-judgement can definitely be a ginormous wet blanket on a blossoming relationship. But then where would the fun be if there wasn't some tension that makes us readers want to bash their heads together?😉😉
At times I would have liked to seen more of Sophia because she's just so darn cute and adorable and I want to protect her from all the evils of the world but then I thought about it and considering the characters' journey, I think Back Check is a very well balanced story and the authors definitely knew what they were doing.
Anyone wondering about series order for reading, I can't imagine reading any series other than the original release order but truth is, each book has a beginning and end because of the different characters at the center. However, there are a few mentions of previous couples that I think make friendships and teammates flow better but it isn't a must that they be read as written. You won't be lost by any means but I do warn you, you see just enough of the previous characters that you'll be enticed to go back and discover their journeys.
RATING:
Poke Check
Chapter One
Erik
In Sweden we have a saying, “Det blir som det blir”.
Loosely translated, it comes out something like “whatever will be, will be”, and despite some missteps along the way, I do believe that everything happens for a reason.
Like me, being here in Pennsylvania, when yesterday I’d been sitting in the yard in a San Diego winter with just a jersey and a thin jacket. Today there was snow. Lots of snow. And it was past cold and on to bitter when the wind caught you the right way.
“You might want to get a better coat,” Emma said helpfully. She was my liaison to get me settled; she’d had me sign lots of forms, allocated keys and a key card, and reeled off a list of rules that apparently all the Railers players adhered to. “Like a thicker coat, maybe.”
You think? I was shivering. The cold had seeped into my bones, and even though she’d explained as she did the tour that the East River Arena, only a few years old, had heating problems that were being fixed, I hoped to hell it wasn’t this cold all the time.
And yes, I know I’m from Sweden, and a hockey player; I know I should be okay with the cold, but this Harrisburg winter was enough to freeze my balls off.
“A coat is on my list,” I said, and gave her my best smile. She grinned back and tilted her head a little, just like my ex had done the night I’d met her, slept with her, and created a new life.
I love women, I love men, and if I’d been on the market then Emma, or indeed that Pete guy who ran security and who’d patted me down when I arrived, would have been on my radar. But I was so not on the market, and there was no way I was getting it on with anyone for a very long time.
My son was my primary goal, that was the truth, and behind him came hockey and winning the Stanley Cup. The pinnacle of hockey excellence, it was that single shining, beautiful, object that every professional hockey player wanted to win.
Not that I really expected the Railers to get it this year; they were an expansion team, new to the NHL, kind of raw, with a lot of potential.
They had a good group of guys in their farm team—young men who were being molded ready to move up to the Railers themselves. I was one of those in that feeder team. Not that I was young; twenty-seven is way past ‘young’ when you have eighteen-year-olds coming in and showing you how it’s done. I’d expected to finish my time with the Carlisle Rush, or another AHL team that would take the chance on me, but no, things had moved so fast, injuries had happened, and here I was, up with the big boys.
And him.
As my agent said, the Railers were an exciting team, a new team, a team that wanted me playing the big games, and boy was I ready for that. I’d been drafted at eighteen, and since then, nine long years, I’d played AHL hockey. Not that that was essentially a bad thing, but still, I wanted to play for the cup. I wanted that ring, and the depth the team was creating was going to enable them to make that run. Hopefully with me hanging on for dear life and not fucking up too much.
“You’re one of those skaters who grow into their skills, their bodies.” That was what my agent pointed out whenever I lost the conviction that I could do any of this. “The boy has become a man,” he had added, because he did that kind of thing where he sounded like Yoda but with the ability to get his words in the right order.
Emma stopped walking, and I nearly crashed into her. So much for my much-vaunted balance and awareness.
“This is one of our defensive coaches,” she said, and waved a hand at a tall blond dude who stepped out of a doorway marked “Coaches”, who you’d have to be a complete idiot not to recognize. “Jared Madsen,” she added, just in case maybe I was one of those skaters who didn’t know the world of people he played in.
“Welcome to the Railers,” Jared said, and extended his hand. A defenseman turned coach, he was also in the middle of some serious issues about who he was dating. I mean, I knew that anyway, but Emma had spent a good thirty minutes challenging my conceptions on life as if she wanted to shake free a certain level of support for the Ten/Jared thing that was going on. She really didn’t need to do that.
A simple, “Love is love,” from me, and she nodded approvingly.
I shook Jared’s hand and attempted a smile, which I hoped encompassed how I felt about him dating a dude, and how it was cool, and I accepted and supported it. Likely, though, given the cold that was rattling my bones, it came out more of a grimace, because his eyebrows raised in question.
“It’s all a bit much at first, new team and all,” Jared said, and released his hold on my hand. He was giving me an out; offering me the chance to explain the half smile.
Best foot forward and all.
“Happy for you and Ten, Coach,” I said, then blustered ahead to qualify the statement. “I like Tennant, he’s a good kid.” Shit. Had calling him “kid” drawn attention to the age difference between Coach Madsen and Tennant? Not that it was that bad, but… “I mean a good forward, good for the team.”
At that, Coach smiled. “Thank you.” He had a clipboard in his hand and a gaggle of kids standing behind him, all peering around him and staring up at me.
“Who’s he?” someone faux-whispered, a young boy, no more than nine. This was clearly some kind of Railers outreach visit, or a school thing, or something like that. I put on my game face.
“Hi guys,” I said, and stepped to one side so they could all see me. “Erik Gunnarsson, right wing.”
There was a moment’s hesitation, and then all hell broke loose—questions, comments, congratulations…a couple of the kids had even heard of me. Coach Madsen had to kind of corral them into a cohesive group, and you could tell he took the word “coach” to heart, because one word, and like a throng of ducklings they followed him away.
“Down here,” Emma said, and continued to talk as we walked down the long corridor toward the elevators. “The Railers do a lot of outreach in the community, with schools. We have a newly formed sled team, work with several local charities, and have fundraising nights that you’ll be expected to attend.”
“Cool,” I said, for want of something else to say. We’d had charity events in the San Diego Admirals, only they hadn’t been quite as fancy as what I imagined an NHL team set up, like casino nights and puppy adoptions. Being a player wasn’t just about the playing; the charity side, the outreach, they were all vital parts of my life. Back in Sweden as a kid, in my first team, I’d been in charge of fundraising. My gran had always said I could raise money just by using my dimples and curls.
Gran was obviously biased, but she’d been right that I had raised a lot of money.
And believe me, I have always known how to use my dimples and curls.
Emma called the elevator, and we waited in the cold corridor, me pulling down the sleeves of my worn Admirals jersey and her sinking deeper into her furry-hooded coat.
“We have a press release for tomorrow,” she said. “Our social media consultant will want to schedule a meeting with you and suggested we drop by after the tour. That will be Layton Foxx, and I’ll introduce you to him after you’ve got your bearings post-skate.”
“Sure.” I filed away the name. I’d seen the press conference for the guys on the team who were doing the horizontal, but the man who’d orchestrated how it all happened wasn’t someone I knew.
The elevator arrived, and I gestured for Emma to go in first. She smiled at me, although to be fair I could see very little of her face under the fur of her hood. I smiled back and moved to the opposite side of the car. Hands off. No touching. Stay professional. Don’t act available.
All wise words from my gran, my agent, and my best friend Lars. They were the ones helping me pick up the pieces of my life—of being a husband, a father, and of a summer that had changed my life.
“This way,” Emma said, and I followed her out into another corridor. I was seriously going to get lost. Everything was different on this floor. The walls were devoid of posters about the team and instead adorned with printouts of inspirational hockey quotes. The intensity of them grew as we moved closer to the dressing area. Seemed like someone on this team believed in the power of positive thought. Just as we were being told in stark black capitals that the Railers were winners, we reached double doors, and she stopped again. This time the Gunnarsson grace and control of my body played its part well, and I managed to stop in time.
“Your key card will get you into the changing room, and then into the locker room, so you need to have that on you at all times. Otherwise you’ll find yourself locked in the corridor with no way in.”
“Key card. Got it.”
“Try it now.”
I tugged at the card on the lanyard and waved it, as instructed, over the panel.
Ninety-five percent of me desperately hoped it didn’t work. The same percentage that really wanted to have been picked up by an NHL team that wasn’t the Railers. Any team. Even a shitty one that regularly beat my beloved New York Rangers.
Just my luck, it worked, and suddenly I was out of my comfort zone. In there was a team waiting for a new right wing; someone who could shore up their fourth line after they’d lost veteran Marc Gauthier to a long-term lower-body injury.
In there were skaters I knew well: Tennant Rowe, Adler Lockhart, Jens Hedlund, Dieter Lehmann, Lee Addison, fellow Swede Arvid Ulfsson, and the captain Connor Hurleigh, to name but a few. Hell, Anatoly ‘Toly’ Sokolov was in there, and he was a personal hero of mine, not to mention my potential fellow winger on the fourth line.
“Are you okay?” Emma asked. “I know it can be overwhelming.”
“I’m not overwhelmed. I’m excited,” I reassured her.
I’m desperate to get on the ice for the Railers all while avoiding a big Russian.
“I’m just cold,” I added, because she was probably reacting to my pale face or my shivering and taking it as nerves.
I wasn’t nervous about the hockey or the players; that was my job, and I could do my job.
There was only one thing that was causing the butterflies in my chest and the nausea that threatened.
Terror at coming face to face with Stanislav Lyamin. Stan, the man I’d loved and then thrown away last year. One conditioning camp, one long summer, and one affair I would never forget. I’d fallen in love, with the big goalie who spoke no English except for what he’d picked up in popular culture. We’d fallen for each other without much in the way of talking. Who does that kind of thing?
And Stan? He was the starting goalie for the Harrisburg Railers, and he was in that room.
“Det blir som det blir,” I murmured. “Whatever will be, will be.”
Stan will ignore me, or hit me, or look at me with those tragically beautiful gray eyes.
“Sorry?”
“Superstition,” I said quickly. People expected hockey players to do some weird things for good luck, and she nodded that she understood. The locker room door was also locked, accessed with the card, and after waving the card at the reader, we were in.
Noise died. What had been a cacophony of shouts, laughter and talking when I pushed the door open stopped dead. There was me thinking I could walk in to maybe a small group of the team, a subset of the entire team, maybe meet them a few at a time. But no, I wasn’t going to be so lucky.
Everyone was in there, and one by one they acknowledged me with a handshake if they were close enough, or a welcoming nod if not.
Captain Connor Hurleigh crossed to me, shook my hand. “Welcome to the Railers,” he said.
I have mad respect for Connor. Coming in as the captain of an expansion team is a challenge, and one that he’d managed, getting the new team to the playoffs last year. I had so much to say to him, so many questions, but all I could do was look for the one person who I couldn’t immediately see in the room. Stan.
“Sorry about the lack of heating back here,” Connor continued. “They said it would be fixed by three for the game tonight. You ready for this?”
I was half listening. Stan was seriously nowhere to be seen. And really, you couldn’t miss the six-four giant mountain of a man, particularly in his goalie gear. His size had been one of the things that had attracted me. I’m not small, but I top out at six feet and carry thirty pounds less than he does. When we’d met in Sweden, all I’d been able to think had been that he was gorgeous, and sexy, and I wanted him.
So I’d worked harder on chasing Stan than I had on my conditioning.
I’d had Stan in my bed, and my heart, for the whole camp. I’d fallen in love, and then I’d been a coward. Or a hero? Who knew what I’d been; all that remained was that I’d thrown him away.
“Okay, then, let’s get you suited up,” Connor said, and his words pulled me back. Had I been standing there like an idiot? He didn’t seem pissed at me, so maybe I hadn’t fucked up on my first morning there. “Your stuff is in the stall. We put you with Toly.”
Anatoly “Toly” Sokolov, fellow winger and future friend, I hoped, had a welcoming smile on his face, and talked to me the entire time I stripped and changed, pulling on the practice jersey of my new team. Practice jerseys were black and white, but the logo of a train was on all of them. Mine was black, the same as Toly’s, and he fist-bumped me when I finished lacing my skates, thoughtfully available ready for me in my stall.
Stan was probably out on the ice. I could picture him now, graceful despite his size and his equipment. He’d be in net, maybe working on his stretches, or his blocker side, which he always complained was weaker than glove side. He’d be concentrating hard, and he wouldn’t even notice I was there.
What was I to the big Russian anyway? A holiday fling? He’d walked away from me just as hard as I’d walked away from him. He understood we couldn’t be together. He had a life that fit his NHL dreams.
I’d married Freja because it had been the right thing to do; we had a baby together. Even post break-up, my family thought I was managing wonderfully with my color-coded schedules and my nanny, but who was I kidding? My life wasn’t together. My life was actually all kinds of messed up, and the fear of facing Stan for the first time since last summer wasn’t helping at all.
I had a soon-to-be-official ex-wife, a new baby that I was the primary carer for, a nanny who saved my life on a daily basis, extensive debt, an empty rented apartment that needed filling, and a shark of a lawyer on speed-dial.
Today, here in this place, I had a Russian I needed to face.
I hit the ice, the smooth glide of skates on the cold stuff enough to snap me out of my misery as I pushed into lazy circles. Still no sign of Stan, and the backup goalie was out, leaning on his net and shooting the breeze with one of the coaches.
There was some joking, stretches, horsing around, and I began to take note of the rink, and the seating, and the huge jumbotron above my head.
Then the air shifted, or there was a noise, or I felt something. I don’t know what it was exactly, but I knew he was there. I was still attuned to him, like he’d never left my heart or head at all. I just knew.
Connor patted my arm. “And this is Stan, our starting goalie.”
Erik
In Sweden we have a saying, “Det blir som det blir”.
Loosely translated, it comes out something like “whatever will be, will be”, and despite some missteps along the way, I do believe that everything happens for a reason.
Like me, being here in Pennsylvania, when yesterday I’d been sitting in the yard in a San Diego winter with just a jersey and a thin jacket. Today there was snow. Lots of snow. And it was past cold and on to bitter when the wind caught you the right way.
“You might want to get a better coat,” Emma said helpfully. She was my liaison to get me settled; she’d had me sign lots of forms, allocated keys and a key card, and reeled off a list of rules that apparently all the Railers players adhered to. “Like a thicker coat, maybe.”
You think? I was shivering. The cold had seeped into my bones, and even though she’d explained as she did the tour that the East River Arena, only a few years old, had heating problems that were being fixed, I hoped to hell it wasn’t this cold all the time.
And yes, I know I’m from Sweden, and a hockey player; I know I should be okay with the cold, but this Harrisburg winter was enough to freeze my balls off.
“A coat is on my list,” I said, and gave her my best smile. She grinned back and tilted her head a little, just like my ex had done the night I’d met her, slept with her, and created a new life.
I love women, I love men, and if I’d been on the market then Emma, or indeed that Pete guy who ran security and who’d patted me down when I arrived, would have been on my radar. But I was so not on the market, and there was no way I was getting it on with anyone for a very long time.
My son was my primary goal, that was the truth, and behind him came hockey and winning the Stanley Cup. The pinnacle of hockey excellence, it was that single shining, beautiful, object that every professional hockey player wanted to win.
Not that I really expected the Railers to get it this year; they were an expansion team, new to the NHL, kind of raw, with a lot of potential.
They had a good group of guys in their farm team—young men who were being molded ready to move up to the Railers themselves. I was one of those in that feeder team. Not that I was young; twenty-seven is way past ‘young’ when you have eighteen-year-olds coming in and showing you how it’s done. I’d expected to finish my time with the Carlisle Rush, or another AHL team that would take the chance on me, but no, things had moved so fast, injuries had happened, and here I was, up with the big boys.
And him.
As my agent said, the Railers were an exciting team, a new team, a team that wanted me playing the big games, and boy was I ready for that. I’d been drafted at eighteen, and since then, nine long years, I’d played AHL hockey. Not that that was essentially a bad thing, but still, I wanted to play for the cup. I wanted that ring, and the depth the team was creating was going to enable them to make that run. Hopefully with me hanging on for dear life and not fucking up too much.
“You’re one of those skaters who grow into their skills, their bodies.” That was what my agent pointed out whenever I lost the conviction that I could do any of this. “The boy has become a man,” he had added, because he did that kind of thing where he sounded like Yoda but with the ability to get his words in the right order.
Emma stopped walking, and I nearly crashed into her. So much for my much-vaunted balance and awareness.
“This is one of our defensive coaches,” she said, and waved a hand at a tall blond dude who stepped out of a doorway marked “Coaches”, who you’d have to be a complete idiot not to recognize. “Jared Madsen,” she added, just in case maybe I was one of those skaters who didn’t know the world of people he played in.
“Welcome to the Railers,” Jared said, and extended his hand. A defenseman turned coach, he was also in the middle of some serious issues about who he was dating. I mean, I knew that anyway, but Emma had spent a good thirty minutes challenging my conceptions on life as if she wanted to shake free a certain level of support for the Ten/Jared thing that was going on. She really didn’t need to do that.
A simple, “Love is love,” from me, and she nodded approvingly.
I shook Jared’s hand and attempted a smile, which I hoped encompassed how I felt about him dating a dude, and how it was cool, and I accepted and supported it. Likely, though, given the cold that was rattling my bones, it came out more of a grimace, because his eyebrows raised in question.
“It’s all a bit much at first, new team and all,” Jared said, and released his hold on my hand. He was giving me an out; offering me the chance to explain the half smile.
Best foot forward and all.
“Happy for you and Ten, Coach,” I said, then blustered ahead to qualify the statement. “I like Tennant, he’s a good kid.” Shit. Had calling him “kid” drawn attention to the age difference between Coach Madsen and Tennant? Not that it was that bad, but… “I mean a good forward, good for the team.”
At that, Coach smiled. “Thank you.” He had a clipboard in his hand and a gaggle of kids standing behind him, all peering around him and staring up at me.
“Who’s he?” someone faux-whispered, a young boy, no more than nine. This was clearly some kind of Railers outreach visit, or a school thing, or something like that. I put on my game face.
“Hi guys,” I said, and stepped to one side so they could all see me. “Erik Gunnarsson, right wing.”
There was a moment’s hesitation, and then all hell broke loose—questions, comments, congratulations…a couple of the kids had even heard of me. Coach Madsen had to kind of corral them into a cohesive group, and you could tell he took the word “coach” to heart, because one word, and like a throng of ducklings they followed him away.
“Down here,” Emma said, and continued to talk as we walked down the long corridor toward the elevators. “The Railers do a lot of outreach in the community, with schools. We have a newly formed sled team, work with several local charities, and have fundraising nights that you’ll be expected to attend.”
“Cool,” I said, for want of something else to say. We’d had charity events in the San Diego Admirals, only they hadn’t been quite as fancy as what I imagined an NHL team set up, like casino nights and puppy adoptions. Being a player wasn’t just about the playing; the charity side, the outreach, they were all vital parts of my life. Back in Sweden as a kid, in my first team, I’d been in charge of fundraising. My gran had always said I could raise money just by using my dimples and curls.
Gran was obviously biased, but she’d been right that I had raised a lot of money.
And believe me, I have always known how to use my dimples and curls.
Emma called the elevator, and we waited in the cold corridor, me pulling down the sleeves of my worn Admirals jersey and her sinking deeper into her furry-hooded coat.
“We have a press release for tomorrow,” she said. “Our social media consultant will want to schedule a meeting with you and suggested we drop by after the tour. That will be Layton Foxx, and I’ll introduce you to him after you’ve got your bearings post-skate.”
“Sure.” I filed away the name. I’d seen the press conference for the guys on the team who were doing the horizontal, but the man who’d orchestrated how it all happened wasn’t someone I knew.
The elevator arrived, and I gestured for Emma to go in first. She smiled at me, although to be fair I could see very little of her face under the fur of her hood. I smiled back and moved to the opposite side of the car. Hands off. No touching. Stay professional. Don’t act available.
All wise words from my gran, my agent, and my best friend Lars. They were the ones helping me pick up the pieces of my life—of being a husband, a father, and of a summer that had changed my life.
“This way,” Emma said, and I followed her out into another corridor. I was seriously going to get lost. Everything was different on this floor. The walls were devoid of posters about the team and instead adorned with printouts of inspirational hockey quotes. The intensity of them grew as we moved closer to the dressing area. Seemed like someone on this team believed in the power of positive thought. Just as we were being told in stark black capitals that the Railers were winners, we reached double doors, and she stopped again. This time the Gunnarsson grace and control of my body played its part well, and I managed to stop in time.
“Your key card will get you into the changing room, and then into the locker room, so you need to have that on you at all times. Otherwise you’ll find yourself locked in the corridor with no way in.”
“Key card. Got it.”
“Try it now.”
I tugged at the card on the lanyard and waved it, as instructed, over the panel.
Ninety-five percent of me desperately hoped it didn’t work. The same percentage that really wanted to have been picked up by an NHL team that wasn’t the Railers. Any team. Even a shitty one that regularly beat my beloved New York Rangers.
Just my luck, it worked, and suddenly I was out of my comfort zone. In there was a team waiting for a new right wing; someone who could shore up their fourth line after they’d lost veteran Marc Gauthier to a long-term lower-body injury.
In there were skaters I knew well: Tennant Rowe, Adler Lockhart, Jens Hedlund, Dieter Lehmann, Lee Addison, fellow Swede Arvid Ulfsson, and the captain Connor Hurleigh, to name but a few. Hell, Anatoly ‘Toly’ Sokolov was in there, and he was a personal hero of mine, not to mention my potential fellow winger on the fourth line.
“Are you okay?” Emma asked. “I know it can be overwhelming.”
“I’m not overwhelmed. I’m excited,” I reassured her.
I’m desperate to get on the ice for the Railers all while avoiding a big Russian.
“I’m just cold,” I added, because she was probably reacting to my pale face or my shivering and taking it as nerves.
I wasn’t nervous about the hockey or the players; that was my job, and I could do my job.
There was only one thing that was causing the butterflies in my chest and the nausea that threatened.
Terror at coming face to face with Stanislav Lyamin. Stan, the man I’d loved and then thrown away last year. One conditioning camp, one long summer, and one affair I would never forget. I’d fallen in love, with the big goalie who spoke no English except for what he’d picked up in popular culture. We’d fallen for each other without much in the way of talking. Who does that kind of thing?
And Stan? He was the starting goalie for the Harrisburg Railers, and he was in that room.
“Det blir som det blir,” I murmured. “Whatever will be, will be.”
Stan will ignore me, or hit me, or look at me with those tragically beautiful gray eyes.
“Sorry?”
“Superstition,” I said quickly. People expected hockey players to do some weird things for good luck, and she nodded that she understood. The locker room door was also locked, accessed with the card, and after waving the card at the reader, we were in.
Noise died. What had been a cacophony of shouts, laughter and talking when I pushed the door open stopped dead. There was me thinking I could walk in to maybe a small group of the team, a subset of the entire team, maybe meet them a few at a time. But no, I wasn’t going to be so lucky.
Everyone was in there, and one by one they acknowledged me with a handshake if they were close enough, or a welcoming nod if not.
Captain Connor Hurleigh crossed to me, shook my hand. “Welcome to the Railers,” he said.
I have mad respect for Connor. Coming in as the captain of an expansion team is a challenge, and one that he’d managed, getting the new team to the playoffs last year. I had so much to say to him, so many questions, but all I could do was look for the one person who I couldn’t immediately see in the room. Stan.
“Sorry about the lack of heating back here,” Connor continued. “They said it would be fixed by three for the game tonight. You ready for this?”
I was half listening. Stan was seriously nowhere to be seen. And really, you couldn’t miss the six-four giant mountain of a man, particularly in his goalie gear. His size had been one of the things that had attracted me. I’m not small, but I top out at six feet and carry thirty pounds less than he does. When we’d met in Sweden, all I’d been able to think had been that he was gorgeous, and sexy, and I wanted him.
So I’d worked harder on chasing Stan than I had on my conditioning.
I’d had Stan in my bed, and my heart, for the whole camp. I’d fallen in love, and then I’d been a coward. Or a hero? Who knew what I’d been; all that remained was that I’d thrown him away.
“Okay, then, let’s get you suited up,” Connor said, and his words pulled me back. Had I been standing there like an idiot? He didn’t seem pissed at me, so maybe I hadn’t fucked up on my first morning there. “Your stuff is in the stall. We put you with Toly.”
Anatoly “Toly” Sokolov, fellow winger and future friend, I hoped, had a welcoming smile on his face, and talked to me the entire time I stripped and changed, pulling on the practice jersey of my new team. Practice jerseys were black and white, but the logo of a train was on all of them. Mine was black, the same as Toly’s, and he fist-bumped me when I finished lacing my skates, thoughtfully available ready for me in my stall.
Stan was probably out on the ice. I could picture him now, graceful despite his size and his equipment. He’d be in net, maybe working on his stretches, or his blocker side, which he always complained was weaker than glove side. He’d be concentrating hard, and he wouldn’t even notice I was there.
What was I to the big Russian anyway? A holiday fling? He’d walked away from me just as hard as I’d walked away from him. He understood we couldn’t be together. He had a life that fit his NHL dreams.
I’d married Freja because it had been the right thing to do; we had a baby together. Even post break-up, my family thought I was managing wonderfully with my color-coded schedules and my nanny, but who was I kidding? My life wasn’t together. My life was actually all kinds of messed up, and the fear of facing Stan for the first time since last summer wasn’t helping at all.
I had a soon-to-be-official ex-wife, a new baby that I was the primary carer for, a nanny who saved my life on a daily basis, extensive debt, an empty rented apartment that needed filling, and a shark of a lawyer on speed-dial.
Today, here in this place, I had a Russian I needed to face.
I hit the ice, the smooth glide of skates on the cold stuff enough to snap me out of my misery as I pushed into lazy circles. Still no sign of Stan, and the backup goalie was out, leaning on his net and shooting the breeze with one of the coaches.
There was some joking, stretches, horsing around, and I began to take note of the rink, and the seating, and the huge jumbotron above my head.
Then the air shifted, or there was a noise, or I felt something. I don’t know what it was exactly, but I knew he was there. I was still attuned to him, like he’d never left my heart or head at all. I just knew.
Connor patted my arm. “And this is Stan, our starting goalie.”
Christmas Lights
Chapter One
Ryker
Coach Carmichael paced the full length of the locker room, his gaze landing on each of us before he stopped right in front of Alex. This was what he did before every game. He zeroed in on one of the guys and imparted words of wisdom. Sometimes it was just a quick “get this done” with a lift of an eyebrow; other times it was this whole speech about teamwork and how good the picked-on player could be if only he did X, Y, or Z. On most occasions, he lightened the tone. Sometimes he even made a joke, although none of us laughed in case he was being ironic; none of us wanted to get on Coach’s bad side after all.
Before the last game, it had been me under the spotlight, being reminded that scrappiness in the corners was a prerequisite and not a choice. I’d held his gaze, even as Alex had snickered next to me, and Jens had scrubbed his face with his hands, trying not to laugh. One turnover against Boston and I would be labeled as the guy who got sloppy in the corners for the rest of the damn season, but what everyone had failed to mention was that I’d had Brady Rowe all the fuck over me and I’d been intimidated. Every rookie had their first time breaking under intimidation, and that had been my moment, and I’d sure as hell wanted to own it. But that was the last game. This game it was Alex who would get the pep talk. I waited with bated breath and a barely held snicker at this payback.
Coach crossed his arms over his chest. “The Railers will put Tennant Rowe’s line out against the JAR line.”
I exchanged glances with Jens, who was the J in the Jens/ Alex/ Ryker line, or JAR as we were now known by pundits, haters, and fans alike, and he gave me a look that spoke volumes. Going up against the Railers was something that only happened a few times a year. After all, the Pennsylvania team was in the Eastern Conference, and we were in the West, but given they were third in the overall table to our scratchy twenty-third, we all knew that tonight was going to be one long-ass fight to come away with any points at all.
That’s defeatist, my dad’s words flew into my thoughts. He always told me that the game was won in a man’s head way before he started to play, and I respected the hell out of my dad, who was coach to the same damn Railers team we were facing tonight.
“You know you’ll have their best D-Men out against you, Ulfsson and Sato-West, so for fuck’s sake keep your heads up and stay on task.” He waved to include me and Jens. “To quote the Great One, 'skate to where the puck is going to be, not where it has been’, okay? Watch for any space and play the game. I want shots on goal because tonight we’re playing the statistics game.”
My brain went immediately to another well-timed Gretsky quote, ‘you miss a hundred percent of the shots you don’t take’.
Yay for that to pop into my thoughts when we were potentially going to come away losing ten-one to one of the best teams ever fielded in the NHL.
“Coach,” Alex murmured, and we all said the same. The pep talk wasn’t just for Alex. It was for all of us, really, and we knew that. “We can do this,” Coach added and slowly turned a full three-sixty.
“We can win against this team. We have the pieces in place. We just need to move in the right direction. Let’s call the starting lineup,” he instructed and handed the clipboard to Colorado, who was our backup goalie tonight, nursing a sprained groin muscle. Whether or not it was from hockey or one of his particularly active sex marathons he talked so much about , we didn’t know. Still, he was there if we needed him, but on the other hand, we really hoped we didn’t because just recently he’d become even more erratic than he’d been before. Colorado grinned wolfishly, then tapped the board in an imitation drum roll.
“Forwards: Jens, Cherry, Madsen; D-men: Novikov, Myers, and Lemon is our starting goalie.” At that point, he fist-bumped Andre LeMans, who just sighed at the fact that his nickname had somehow become Lemon, just as Alex Garcia had become Cherry. Part of me wished I’d get a cool nickname as well, but Mads was already taken by my dad, and even though other players used it, I kind of wanted my own. One day.
Each name was met by a small cheer, and by the time we were lined up in the tunnel, waiting for warm-ups, I was pumped. This was going to be good. I just had to forget it was the Railers and focus on the fact that I’d practiced against Ten, my unofficial/ official stepdad, for so long over the summer I’d begun to learn some of the things he did so well. Of course, seeing him tonight wasn’t going to be fun like we’d had in the heat of summer. This was serious shit. The Raptors needed the points desperately, and I couldn’t even look at my dad on the Railers bench in case he smiled at me with encouragement or was in coach mode and scowled at me as an opposing player. Unfortunately, Ten hadn’t gotten the memo about avoiding me as he was waiting at the center line as I passed.
“Ry.” He nodded and skated slowly away, giving me a smile that was half love and half we’re-gonna-crush-you. I smiled back and returned his nod, sending a puck across the ice to land on his stick. He passed it back, and that was all we did by way of acknowledging each other as opponents.
Then after a short break, it was game on, and the Railers were three goals up in the first period with Ten’s line out every single damn time the JAR line was out. There wasn’t a hope in hell of them making a mistake so we could steal the puck.
But then, early in the second period, Adler Lockhart, made a mistake. He turned over the puck, and I could hear the collective gasps in the arena and probably from every single person watching this game on TV. The Railers didn’t do turnovers, and at first, our line froze, and then it became obvious what had happened. Lockhart’s stick had tangled after a heroic dive from our best D-Man and captain, Vlad.
Vlad shuttled the puck to Alex, and what Alex did next was a thing of beauty. He hared up the rink toward Stan Lyamin, making it look as if he was going straight to shoot, and then in a highlight reel move, he passed left to Jens, who sent it streaking from his stick onto mine. There was no way I could dust this pass off; we didn’t have time. We’d caught the Railers off guard, and I had to shoot now. Otherwise, Stan would close that tiny gap he’d left, thinking Alex was firing a slap shot from the other end. Everything slowed down, instinct kicked in, and I visualized where it was going. I could feel every muscle in me screaming to make this the right shot for this moment.
When the puck left my stick, it didn’t even wobble or waver. It headed straight for the hole between Stan’s glove and his beloved pipes— a hole that was closing, even as the puck flew. He missed the flying rubber disc by an inch, the net straining as the puck hit it, and somehow the Raptors had scored against the Railers, and we had pulled a goal back. The siren sounded in the arena, the Raptors fans going wild, and I went to one knee, celebrating in the most dramatic way I could. That goal, the first I’d ever scored against my dad and Ten, was one I would remember forever.
After that, it was almost okay that we lost by four goals.
Alex and I met Dad and Ten after the game. With only three days to go until Christmas, it was hard to find any suitable place we could meet up, so we’d asked them back to our place, which had a tiny tree in one corner and lights around the arch into the kitchen. We were done with official games before Christmas, with five days off because of the way the game schedule fell for us. Not so much for the Railers, who had games in Dallas and Florida close to Christmas Day.
After tomorrow’s practice and postgame analysis, my Christmas break started, although losing to the Railers five to one wasn’t a brilliant result for us to discuss as a team. Whatever. Nothing was going to mess with my excitement at spending an entire five days with Jacob.
Ten waltzed into our place, looking all kinds of badass, then hugged me so tight I couldn’t breathe.
“So proud of you, Ry,” he wouldn’t let me go until Dad pried him away.
“Nice goal, son,” Dad said gruffly and held me almost as tight. “So fucking tight.”
“What about my feint and pass?” Alex teased when we all separated, and he got included in hugs as well, along with congratulations from Ten. Alex was spending time with his family, and that included his partner, Sebastian, and I know he was apprehensive, although things had been better recently. At least Sebastian had been invited to spend time with Alex’s family, so that was a win.
“Presents!” Ten announced, and I heard Dad groan. Ten had this way of going into a shop and buying everything. No joke. From a bargain-bin bobblehead to expensive skates, he just wanted to give everything to everyone, donating a shit ton of money to local charities anonymously and helping to make peoples’ Christmases good ones.
Even Alex was in on the gift exchange, and we spent a good hour laughing and drinking beer and celebrating Christmas early. Part of me was sad that I wasn’t seeing Mom and Dad in the break, but Dad was down south, and he had Ten, and as for Mom, she was on vacation in Mexico with her husband and my little sisters. Everything had worked out so well for both of them, but I knew if I’d been alone, then either Mom or Dad would have been there for me.
Only this year, I wasn’t going to be alone at all.
I was going to Jacob’s farm, staying in some old cabin he and his dad had spent the fall renovating. Scott was coming with Hayne, and Benoit was visiting with Ethan for at least three days. The six of us had been planning this Christmas break since the NHL bigwigs had released the schedule, and it would be so good to catch up with Scott and Ben, if only to shoot the shit and remember life before everything had gone to hell. Owatonna College seemed so long ago, and chilling with friends was exactly what I needed. Not that it was only a college reunion. After all, we’d invited Henry as well, but he was only coming out of the therapy facility for a few days and spending the time with his family this Christmas, although he didn’t seem all that happy with that particular state of affairs. He was getting more morose and confused with every visit, so much so that his key therapist had suggested we stop visiting for a while.
Alex went to bed a little after two a.m., Ten pleaded exhaustion, and then it was just Dad and I, sitting by the tree in silence, enjoying each other’s company, and sipping coffee, which I knew would likely keep me up.
“Is it okay if I ask you something, Dad?”
He glanced up from his coffee and smiled at me. “Always,” he murmured. We’d had our bad times, Dad and I, but there was no man I wanted more in my corner in my public and private life. The question I had was very relevant to the thoughts spinning in my head right now. Jacob and I. The future.
“Did you know Ten would say yes when you asked him to marry you?”
His eyes widened a little, and then he nodded. “You have to remember Ten wasn’t in a good place back then, with his injury and with the residual…” He tapped his head, and I couldn’t help but recall the awfulness of that Christmas. Through it all, Dad and Ten had fought the effects of the injury to stay together and in love, and then the wedding, it had been so beautiful.
“But you knew he’d say yes, right?”
He paused, but that was my dad; the focused, calm one, he never let words fly that weren’t considered and thoughtful.
“Ten is the other half of me, and despite everything, in my heart, I knew he’d say yes. Why?”
“No reason, just been thinking about things, is all.”
“Is something worrying you? Is someone on the team messing with you about me and Ten?” Abruptly, he was fiercely defensive of his son, and I loved him for that.
“No way would Coach Carmichael let any of that fly,” I reassured him. “I just…” I couldn’t finish the sentence. The enormity of what I felt for Jacob was difficult to put into mere words.
“What is it, Ry? Are you okay?” He looked so concerned, and it didn’t take much for me to see that I was coming over as a weird-ass kid who was worrying his dad.
I wanted to tell him that Jacob and I would be together forever. But he might’ve thought I was stupid, and say that we couldn’t know what we wanted yet. Dad loved me whatever I did, but what if he said I was too young to think about tying myself to one person?
I’m twenty-four, and Jacob is my forever, I defended myself in the imaginary scenario in which Dad might think less of me or question my decisions. Of course he could be good with everything, but on the off chance he wasn’t, I kept my truth that Jacob was my everything to myself for now.
“I’m fine, Dad, just happy to see you and Ten so good together.”
Dad pulled me into a sideways hug.
“Love you,” he said.
“I love you too.”
“Merry Christmas, son.”
Coast to Coast
One
Mark
My brothers are both older than me, and loving the two of them is impossible at the best of times. Ten years ago they turned their backs on me, and I want to forgive them, but I can’t.
Jason was the eldest son, hair as curly and dark as mine, his eyes that same deep Westman-Reid brown he and I had inherited from my asshole of a dad. Big brother one was currently sitting in the chair behind Dad’s old desk, looking as if someone had pissed in his Wheaties, and tapping a pen rhythmically on the leather blotter. I didn’t think he was that happy, but then, he’d been the one closest to Dad, the golden boy, so I guessed Dad dying was a big downer in his charmed life.
Cameron was the middle son, and I know the books said that the middle children are supposed to be the negotiators, the ones to placate their siblings with kind words. Only Cam was not doing that right now. He was pacing, throwing things, and I imagined his personal grief was manifesting itself in the glorious temper that also came from my dad. He looked more like Mom, blond, blue eyes, kind of pretty, but not quirky or fey enough for my modeling agency to book him.
“You want what? You’re both mad. Over my dead fucking body will I stay here and work with you. No.” I was horrified. I didn’t drop the F-bomb much in general, but what they’d just said was enough to have me using fuck as punctuation.
“Say that again!” Cameron snapped, right in my face. “I dare you.”
Never let it be said that I am the kind of man who backs down on a dare. Last time someone had dared me to do something, I’d ended up getting arrested, and pictures of my naked butt appeared all over social media.
“No,” I repeated. That wasn’t a no about the dare; that was a nod to the proposal that I work with my brothers for a year on their failing hockey team.
“No! The fucker said no.” Cam was apoplectic and began pacing the office again, going from one end where Dad had kept his vinyl record collection, and finishing at the other where the family portrait hung, before repeating this all over again. Of course, that meant I looked at the painting— Mom sporting the Westman-Reid diamonds, elegant in a sapphire ball gown that matched her eyes, and Dad in a morning suit. To the left was Jason appearing to be around twenty or so, looking like the prep school Ivy League asshole he’d always been. To the right Cam, cute even then, and with not one hint of temper in his expression. Then there was me, sitting on the arm of a chair, aged twelve and fully aware then that I didn’t belong in the painting. Leigh wasn’t in the picture, typical hypocritical Westman-Reid shit. Clearly having the child in the wheelchair in the painting would’ve detracted from my dad’s sheer awesomeness or some such shit. Funny how I’d never noticed she wasn’t in the picture.
Four years after this painting, I was told to leave the mansion. I guessed I was lucky that Dad hadn’t cut me out of the painting as brutally as he had cut me out of his life.
“You realize so much will be lost if you don’t agree,” Jason was calm as if talking to me sensibly might get me to change my mind.
I crossed one leg over the other, pulling at my pants until the crease fell just so. I took pride in my clothes, but the move was more of a delaying tactic than sustaining my tailored elegance.
“That’s not my problem,” I said.
The chair I sat on rocked violently as Cam smacked the back of it. “Not your problem? Do you know how much the team would lose?”
I guessed the question was rhetorical, but I couldn’t stay quiet. “So your kids have to have loans for college, and you don’t get to vacation on an island in the Bahamas. Sucks to be you.”
“Jesus Christ, you’re a fucking asshole,” Cam exploded, and placing a hand on either side of the arms of my chair, he then leaned right into my face— so close I could see the darker blue in his eyes and imagined the scarlet lightning of temper exploding from them at any minute. “Do you have any idea of what you’re talking about?”
I peered around him in my most deliberate fashion and stared at Jason. “Are you going to get him out of my face, or do I need to call 911?”
“Cam, back down,” Jason ordered, and finally after a staring match that seemed to last hours, Cam threw his hands in the air and resumed pacing.
“Many people depend on the Raptors to be able to support their families,” Jason explained in his level-headed way.
“You can’t guilt me into this, Jason. Dad threw me out at sixteen, with no money, no idea of what to do, and I hitchhiked my way to New York. I worked my butt off to make something of myself there, and Gilded Treasures is more than enough to support over three hundred staff and models. I made something of myself despite dear old Dad, and I owe this family nothing.”
“What about Mom?” Cam snapped.
“The same woman who stood next to Dad and watched him kick me out, then ignored my calls and cut me out of her life as efficiently as if she’d used a blade?”
“She’s not well,” Jason said, tiredly.
A small prick of concern pierced the act I had going on, but I wasn’t going to let it sway me. She had washed her hands of me a long time ago, and she meant nothing to me now. I pushed aside that traitorous sympathy and focused back on Cam and Jason. “Maybe she should stop drinking,” I said.
That was clearly the wrong thing to say. Cam dragged me out of the chair and walked me backward until I hit a wall. He lifted me onto my toes, easy when he was built like a linebacker with all the physical qualities of the Incredible Hulk.
“Mom has cancer,” he said, and that poke of concern became slightly bigger.
“Cameron, stop,” Jason ordered and pushed his way between us. I’m not sure why he was stopping Cam from beating me up. He’d never done it when we were kids, so why now? “She didn’t want him to know,” he said as he shoved Cam backward.
Yep, and there it is, the cherry on the icing of the proverbial shit cake. I brushed myself down.
“Of course, she doesn’t want me to know. She probably assumed I don’t care, and she was right.” I feigned a complete lack of concern, but even after all these years, it was her betrayal that hurt the most.
Cam moved in front of me, although he kept his distance.
“She didn’t want her illness to sway you one way or another with what Dad put in motion.”
I looked at my nails and huffed. “And that’s the story she’s sticking to, right?”
Cam slammed a hand into the wall next to my head. He was taller and bigger than me, just like Jason, and if the two of them decided to take it upon themselves to kill me, they could. At five ten, I was completely vulnerable.
I wasn’t the same stupid kid who’d left the house at sixteen. Not the one who’d adored Cameron and admired him as if he was a shiny, heroic genius. Or who’d been the only one to stop Jason from losing his cool all the time.
I was Mark Westman-Reid, twenty-six, owner of a thriving modeling agency, an apartment, with a scarlet Lamborghini parked outside the mansion to prove it. Not to mention owning a loft looking out over Central Park or having a Porsche that sat in the garage as a spare.
That Mark was a very different person, and my brothers needed to know that.
“One year,” Cameron said and closed his eyes briefly.
“What about Leigh? What is our sister’s role in this?”
Jason and Cam exchanged looks, and I’d have even gone as far as to say they both appeared regretful.
“You know Dad just wanted to look after her,” Cam said finally. Then he changed the subject. “One year as part owner of the Raptors is all the will states. The three of us can fulfill the conditions of Dad’s will, and we’ll buy you out.”
“Buy me out? Huh. What with?”
The family had invested in the Arizona team before I’d left home, and even though I wasn’t a hockey fan, I was a businessman, with advisors and investors, and my own goddamn corner office. I knew business, and I didn’t have to be a fan of hockey in general or the Raptors themselves to see that the team was failing.
Their eighteen-thousand seating capacity Santa Catalina Arena was barely forty percent full on good nights, and the players were in and out of trouble about as often as Cam had been as a kid. They were close to the bottom of the league, and their reputation was shit among the other teams. There was violence, a couple of DUIs, rumors of steroid abuse, and worst of all, no franchise wanted to set up stalls in the place for game nights. All of that I’d read in one article on the NHL website.
They’d had some good picks for the last draft, and clicking on both those links had given me a good understanding of what that meant. The team had picked up a couple of good rookies. Other than that, they’d made no changes to the players.
Worst of all, it seemed the team had one player who was a mean son of a bitch who’d gone out of his way to hurt the league’s darling, Tennant Rowe, which meant that now the Arizona Raptors were the bad guys.
They were fucked six ways to Sunday. The latest article on the Raptors’ website talked about a last-minute coach hired from an east-coast college with no NHL-level experience at all. Dad had to have been desperately scraping the bottom of the barrel for that. Money breeds money, and Rowen something or other wasn’t going to save a team hell-bent on self-destruction.
And Dad had wanted his three sons to work together for a year? Why? What the hell reason could he have for making us do this? If we didn’t, then the last of Dad’s money was going to charity, and the team would be wound up. Finished. And it was doubtful that it could be sold on to any other unsuspecting schmuck.
“We have financing in place if we need it,” Jason defended, but I’d forgotten what I even asked. I was done here, and for my own sanity, I needed to leave.
“No,” I repeated and slipped out of the room. They didn’t follow me, but I could hear the rumble of voices behind the door.
“What did you say?”
I turned to face Leigh with a smile and leaned down to give her a hug. Leigh was the only true innocent in all of this, and I wished I could say that I’d kept in touch with her, but I’d have been lying. The oldest of all four of us, she’d been a passenger in a car accident aged five and was confined to a wheelchair. I don’t remember much about her growing up. She’d been this ghost who’d passed through my life on her way to rehabs or for operations. At least she hadn’t been next to Dad when he’d thrown me out, though, and I had affection for her, just not the kind that was enough for me defy my father and keep in touch.
Not even as a grown-ass man had I reached out. That was on me. Maybe now he was gone, I could think about visiting her. On days when my asshole brothers weren’t there, of course. Or Mom. God forbid I bump into my mom.
“I said no,” I was honest and to the point.
She half smiled, then wheeled herself down the hall to the front door, and I followed. “I thought you would. You don’t owe us anything.”
“I don’t feel a part of this family,” I murmured. “You get that, right?”
“Likewise,” she said and smiled again. She was another blonde, like Mom and Cam, and was so pretty. I wonder how she’s doing? Had she ended up at college? What was her role in the family, apart from the one everyone looked after? And why did I feel as if I was abandoning her. “Did they tell you about Mom?”
I nodded. The part of my brain processing the news was mostly taken up by the fact that I’d decided my position on the Raptors situation, and I was sticking to it.
“Not that it matters,” she added.
“Huh?”
“Part of her died with Daddy.” She held out a hand, and I took it without hesitation. “You know, the part where she couldn’t make her own choices, the part that Dad made her lock down, her life, her joy, her painting. It’s crappy timing that the moment he dies and sets her free is the same time she gets cancer. Life sucks, you know.”
I crouched down next to her and looked up. “Mom didn’t care about me. Our brothers stood by and let Dad cut me out of this family. I’ve lost that spark of love for the way they represent family. Do you understand?”
“I’m in a wheelchair. I’m not stupid,” she said wryly.
I felt embarrassed at the way I’d worded my question. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…”
“I’m teasing you. Did you know you have three nieces and two nephews?”
“You send me the family newsletter every year, sis.”
“Emma, Lucy, Ewan, Michael, and Gemma,” she counted them off on her fingers. “I bet they’d love to meet their uncle Mark.”
“The roaming gay uncle who made a living stripping his clothes off for money?”
She shook her head. “No. The successful businessman who started as a model, who made curly hair famous, and now runs his own modeling agency, owns an apartment overlooking Central Park, and drives a Lamborghini.” She waved at the shiny red car, and I sat next to her on the short wall of the porch, feeling as if this conversation had a purpose. “You have a business manager, right?”
“Lucas.”
“Let him run your company. He could cover you being on the west coast. You know the will only stipulates two hundred working days spread over the year. You could be more to your nieces and nephews. You could take me out for dinner. We could talk about our past, maybe look forward to our future. You never know, you might one day forgive Mom and Jason, and maybe there will be a miracle, and you could even be friends with Cam. But you won’t know that unless you give us all a chance.”
“I don’t know anything about hockey.”
“I don’t imagine that getting kicked out of your home and onto the streets with no money meant you knew a damn thing about modeling either, but look at you now.”
“I don’t like the cold.”
“We live in Arizona.”
“Ice is cold.”
“I’ll lend you a jersey.”
The banter was a hundred kinds of cute, and an overwhelming rush of self-pity stole my breath. She must have seen it in my face, and she patted my head.
“Come on, Mark, give this family issue a week. Take it a day at a time. We can go out for a beer. We can watch hockey together. I’d like to get to know my little brother again.”
“What about Mom?”
“She’s away right now, at an all-inclusive spa in Sedona. She went there with a trunk of books, three cases of wine, and it’s closer to the clinic she’s attending. She’s grieving over losing Dad at her own pace.”
“What kind of cancer does she have?”
“Breast cancer.”
“Did she know about this insane clause in Dad’s will?”
Leigh shrugged. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she encouraged him to put it in there.”
“What do you mean?”
“Now’s not the time to talk about all that, Mark. Now is the time to go back into the office, calm Cam down, and talk to Jason rationally. See if there’s something you can get started. Do it for the family that fucked you over, show them you’re the bigger man, come home for a while and be Uncle Mark.”
She held out a hand, and I gripped it, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.
“I wish you’d been home more when…”
“Yeah.” She shook her head sadly. “Me too.”
I walked back into the office without knocking and took a mental picture of what I was looking at. Cam at the window, arms crossed over his chest, staring out at the manicured lawns of the Westman-Reid estate. Jason slumped in the chair I’d been sitting in, pale and almost appearing as if he was going to cry.
“One week,” I announced, and both men were startled out of wherever their thoughts had taken them. “I’m giving this one week, but I have conditions.” I sat on the edge of Dad’s desk and glanced between my brothers, both of whom wore mirrored looks of bewilderment.
“What conditions?” Cam asked and uncrossed his arms.
“My own office, access to every scrap of financial data for the past ten years, personal meetings with every single player, links to game film, someone to explain the rules of the game, and a place for Leigh to work with us if she wants to. That’s nonnegotiable. If we want to turn this team around, then as part of this management team of three, we cut out all the deadwood: the skaters who don’t give a shit, the managers getting fat skimming from the meager income we make. And most of all, we negotiate with this new coach, whatever his name is—”
“Rowen Carmichael.”
“Him. We tell him to get the hell out and find a team at his level.”
“He’s already in place at the arena, and Dad gave him a loophole-free contract,” Cam warned.
I fronted both of them. “I don’t give a shit about a loophole-free contract.”
“Mark—”
I held up a hand. “No negotiation on any of this. I want a real coach, not some half-assed college wannabe. I want Rowen Carmichael gone.”
Back Check
“Hey, guys, did you see this story coming out of Fort Lauderdale?”
Everyone looked at me.
“I didn’t do it,” I quickly said as I lifted my hands up innocently. “I was here in Boston.”
“No, it’s nothing bad like you’re used to,” Austin blurted out. Xander swatted him upside the head. The boy’s eyes bugged out, and his soft cheeks turned scarlet. “Oh! No, I didn’t mean you did bad stuff! Being drunk isn’t bad. Well, it kind of is bad when you run off the road and hit a mailbox. It’s not bad in a bad way. It’s, uhm… well, it’s just an addiction right, and you’re not drinking anymore so it’s all okay. No, well, okay in that you’ve stopped drinking and are now—”
“It’s okay, Rowe, I know what you meant, and it’s fine. I did some pretty fucked up things when I was under the influence of alcohol.”
Austin wilted a bit. “Okay, thanks. I didn’t mean to imply that addictions are bad. I mean they are! No, not bad like bad but—”
“It’s okay, kid. Just move onto the news story.” I chuckled. Moral lobbed a chunk of apple at Austin. He ducked it and the glob smacked Kyle in the cheek.
“Right, yeah, so there’s this guy down in Florida who’s looking for a bone marrow donor for his daughter. He showed up at a preseason hockey game to search for some mysterious fan called ‘Hockey Guy’ which the dead mother named as the possible father.”
“Shit, so the guy is raising his daughter alone?” Moral asked, the sad news slowing his inhalation of muffins for a moment.
“Wait…” He placed his muffin on its plate. “If he’s the father then why is he looking for the father?”
“He’s the baby’s uncle but has been raising her as her father. It’s all super sad and everyone in the league is signing up to see if they’re a match for the little girl with leukemia. Look at her.” He showed us all an image of an adorable little girl of perhaps three and her daddy/uncle who was also cute as hell. “We should sign up.”
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🏒👨❤️👨🏒💖👬💖🏒👨❤️💋👨🏒
Writing love stories with a happy ever after – cowboys, heroes, family, hockey, single dads, bodyguards
USA Today bestselling author RJ Scott has written over one hundred romance books. Emotional stories of complicated characters, cowboys, single dads, hockey players, millionaires, princes, bodyguards, Navy SEALs, soldiers, doctors, paramedics, firefighters, cops, and the men who get mixed up in their lives, always with a happy ever after.
She lives just outside London and spends every waking minute she isn’t with family either reading or writing. The last time she had a week’s break from writing, she didn’t like it one little bit, and she has yet to meet a box of chocolates she couldn’t defeat.
V.L. Locey loves worn jeans, yoga, belly laughs, walking, reading and writing lusty tales, Greek mythology, the New York Rangers, comic books, and coffee.
(Not necessarily in that order.)
She shares her life with her husband, her daughter, one dog, two cats, a flock of assorted domestic fowl, and two Jersey steers.
When not writing spicy romances, she enjoys spending her day with her menagerie in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania with a cup of fresh java in hand.
RJ Scott
BOOKBUB / KOBO / SMASHWORDS
EMAIL: rj@rjscott.co.uk
VL Locey
EMAIL: vicki@vllocey.com
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will be leaving KU on July 10, 2023👀
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