For Pucking Keeps: A Hockey Romance (The Seattle Vipers Series Book 1)

8. Tor

EIGHT

Five a.m. An hour earlier than I usually wake up and it felt ungodly. The musical chimes of my phone had gone off like firecrackers on the 4th of July. I knew it would happen. I anticipated it so much that I had barely slept. My eyes popped open before the notification of being tagged in multiple posts alerted me to my worst fear. As exhausted as I was, I didn’t hesitate to make things right. With my PR team and manager, Parker, on speed dial he coordinated the shutdown of most of the articles and the removal of the photo circulating around the web in a matter of three hours. Considering I never use my team for anything like this, Parker seemed excited to flex his muscles. I pay him well enough, but the man was almost giddy and awaiting my call this morning. But the damage was already done. Just thinking about the things I read this morning has me clenching my jaw tight in anger as I push myself into a faster run. Damn, the brutality and scrutiny of humanity knows no bounds. None of them were aimed at me, of course. Unless you consider the criticism for the choice of woman on my arm, based on her size and shape, a dig at my life choices. It’s bullshit. No, all the vitriol and negativity was turned in Jaz’s direction. One photo and she had been weighed and measured in more ways than just her character.

A fiancé? She had been engaged to be married from what the numerous comments stated. Yes, I read them all. Exhausted and bleary eyed, I read as much as I could about my mysterious Supernova. I can’t help my curiosity; I want to know more about Jazminne Starr. The more I read, the more questions I want answered. The only way I can get the answers I seek is to ask the woman herself, and the only way I am going to get her to talk is to make her feel comfortable enough to let me in. If she is anything like me, I know it won’t be easy. But we have hockey. She needs my help, and I will help her in any way I can.

“Tor, I’m in love,” Devan’s gruff daydreamy voice cuts through my thoughts, making my pace falter on the treadmill I’ve been running on for the past—well, how long have I been running? Sweat flies off my face as I turn to see him walking toward me. He looks worse than I feel but his smile is as big as it always is. Slowing my pace to a jog, I look around the team gym to see more of my teammates mid workout. I hadn’t noticed, so lost in the events of my long morning to care about anything else but all things Jaz. I need to put a stop to all of it. I will help her, but it can go no further than my expertise. I have no room in my life for anything but hockey. It has to, no, it needs to be this way. I have a cup to win. My team is my responsibility.

I’ve been down this road before. I can’t let anything or anyone pull my focus away from hockey. I’m not in the habit of making the same mistake twice. My attempt at relationships in my earlier days in the NHL failed miserably because I was in a committed relationship with my career. No, I was never unfaithful. I didn’t fuck around with puck bunnies like Ridley and Devan. Honestly, I let my former girlfriends walk away from me due to my lack of interest rather than truly hurting their feelings. Oh no, treating a person like they don’t matter doesn’t hurt at all, Tor. Ignoring them and forcing them to bow out of their own accord, without conflict doesn’t really make you a good guy. Coward.

“Earth to Tor.” Devan waves his hand in my periphery to get my attention before stepping up on the treadmill next to me. Again, I have allowed myself to get distracted by my thoughts when I should be here, in the present, training.

“Yeah. What were you saying?” I quickly reply, slowing the belt down to a walking pace as I grab my towel off the side of the machine, wiping the sweat off my face. Glancing down to see my progress, I blink in shock at the seven miles I have run. Turning my attention back to Devan, I notice the dark circles under his eyes, and the exhausted look on his face and scoff. Unbelievable.

“Really, Dev? We’re at the start of the season. You know better than to come in here hungover,” I admonish. Yes, focus on your teammates, Tor. You’re the captain of this team for a reason. This I can do. Trying to understand my emotional attachment to a stranger, not so much.

Devan groans but it sounds more pleasurable than painful. “I’m not hungover, not like that. Anyway, I?—”

“I thought you and Ridley took Lia home last night?” I ask, then pause, not wanting to hear what shit he and Rid got up to. I shake my head. “You know what? I don’t want to know. You two. . .” I point to Ridley, who is lifting weights vigorously on the other side of the room, earbuds in his ears and oblivious to the world around him, then back Devan. “I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Hey. What the fuck, Tor? I am not hungover, at least, not in the usual sense.” He smiles playfully. “We took Lia home. Ridley tossed her on her couch with a glass of water and some ibuprofen and we left. He drove me back to my car and I went home.” Devan holds his hands up in surrender when I roll my eyes in disbelief. “Seriously, I can’t speak for Ridley, but he doesn’t look like he went out either.” He throws his arm out to the man in question. I look back over to Ridley, and although he is focused on his routine, there’s a scowl on his face that I make a mental note to ask him about later. “I have a book hangover,” Devan mumbles the last bit so softly, I have to strain my ears to hear him over the noise of the others in the room.

“You have a what now?” I ask, grabbing my water bottle and taking a long sip. I arch a brow, a hint of a smile on my face as Devan’s eyes light up in excitement, widening. His smile brightens as he suddenly wakes up from the lethargy he walked into the room with only minutes ago.

“I went home last night after hearing your girl, Jaz, talk about her books. I wanted to call her bluff the next time I saw her. I had to see what the hype was all about. You know for research,” he says reassuringly. “I downloaded an e-reader app. . .Kindle, yes, that one. Then bro. . .” He clutches his chest with both hands and does a happy dance, swaying his hips back and forth, making our goalie, Bast, look up from the yoga mat he was stretching on. It isn’t lost on me that I didn’t correct him on calling Jaz my girl. I let it float around in the ether, loving the sound and the feeling of excitement it elicits.

“Devan, since when do you read?” Bast chuckles from the floor.

“Since I met a certain romance author named Jazminne Starr.” He turns his attention back to me. “Tor, I’m obsessed. I started one of her books last night, and I shit you not, I couldn’t put it down. My dick was so hard, I think I broke it. The romance, no, this was more, it was porn on a page. But it wasn’t like the crap you watch on the internet. There was some serious storyline mixed in with some of the hottest sex scenes I’ve ever read. I’ve never read anything like it in my life. If they offered that up for academic reading, I’d have been a genius. When I tell you I am hooked, I am hooked.” He turns on the treadmill and starts to jog as he continues to speak.

“I was up much later than I intended. You know, I need my beauty sleep. But, Tor, I think I found my new hobby. Puck bunnies. . .who needs puck bunnies when you have smut to read? I may just manage to stay out of trouble this season— Oh shit. Do you think she can sign a book for me? I need to thank her. I’m fucking jealous, you lucky, lucky man. If she can write scenes like that, then I don’t want to think what she can?—”

“Stop. You don’t get to imagine or think twice about what she can or can’t do in the bedroom,” I say through gritted teeth, only to stop myself from saying more. Where the hell did the alpha possessiveness come from? She isn’t mine.

He throws his head back and laughs. “I’m just saying. Don’t worry, Tor, she only had you in her sights,” he says as he picks up the pace and starts to sprint.

I don’t know how to respond to anything he’s said. Is he serious? The last thing I want to think about is Dev whacking off all night to a book. Especially one of Jaz’s books. Maybe I should check out her writing myself. Or maybe not. In fact, that sounds like the last thing I need to do. Professional distance, Tor. “For the record, Jaz is not my girl. I just met the woman last night,” I say firmly. There, I shut all thoughts of the possibility of us down real quick.

Bast coughs. “Well, according to the bunny blogs, you two are the new couple to watch.” He raises his eyebrows suggestively, making a few guys around us laugh along with him. I shoot him a glare as well as the others and Bast just shrugs it off and turns his attention back to his stretches.

“Well, we’re not. I offered to help her learn more about hockey since she’s writing a hockey romance, that is it,” I say loud enough for Devan, Bast, and whoever else is eavesdropping to hear. “I got the picture taken down and eventually it will all blow over.” If I tell myself that over and over again, I will believe it. I stop the treadmill, grab my water bottle and step down.

“Tor, we all saw the way you eye fucked the woman last night. She had your full attention,” Ridley says as he approaches one of the yoga mats next to Bast and sits down. I guess he wasn’t as oblivious to our conversation as I thought.

Unsure how to reply, because I know for damn sure I’m not going to admit the truth of his words. I frown at my best friend, but Ridley smirks back in return. He knows me so well, we don’t need to speak my admission out loud. He already knows. I am absolutely going to do the wrong thing when it comes to Jazminne Starr. As much as I want to fight it, I know that it’s only a matter of time before I break. My only solace, I have the next three away games to build up my defenses against my Supernova before she wrecks me permanently.

I leave the team gym to the sounds of my teammates’ chuckles, but don’t miss Devan’s taunts as I turn the corner. “You’re so gone already, Tor.”

I want to deny it, but how can I deny the truth? One look at her and I was gone.

“Bailey!” I visibly flinch hearing my name from Coach Lennox’s mouth.

I swear the man doesn’t know how not to shout. I should be used to it by now. All of my teammates joke about the yelling all the time. We are all in a constant state of questioning whether we’ve done something wrong or not. Honestly, I know it’s his way of keeping us on our toes; disarming us while getting a kick out of it at the same time. I consider him as a growly dad figure, yet for some of us who didn’t grow up with a father in our lives. . .it’s not easy. I respect him.

He has been my head coach for as long as I’ve been with the Vipers, so when he talks, I listen. But today, for once, I am not looking forward to the conversation I thought I was sneaking out of the building trying to avoid. I turn to face him, car keys in hand, and check my watch. I still have six hours before we board the team jet to Vancouver, so I am desperate for my pillow after this morning’s workout and a session with Charlie, one of the team’s physical therapists. After last night, I need to close my eyes and catch up on some much-needed sleep.

I watch him approach, his facial expression unreadable, leaving me hanging until he reveals whether he’s pissed or happy to see me. The man has a serious poker face and gives nothing away. He stands a few inches shorter than me, wearing his signature Vipers team polo and black slacks. His hair is just starting to gray at the temples, his olive skin is smooth, ageless, and you can’t tell the man is pushing his mid-fifties, he still hits the gym just as hard as we do. Harley Lennox was a legend in his time. He played center, like me, for almost twenty years for the New York Wardens. He hadn”t been retired long before he was approached by the Vipers to take over as head coach. I’ve been playing for him from the beginning.

Pocketing my keys, I fold my arms over my chest, feeling more like a child than the team captain. “Yeah, coach,” I finally reply as he turns his observant gaze on me, giving me a once over, then sighs.

“Let’s get right to it then, Bailey. I woke up to a shit storm this morning, and to my surprise, it was you at the heart of it. Care to explain?” He mirrors my stance and tilts his head, awaiting my explanation.

“Parker and my team took care of it. I’m sure he’s already been in touch with our in-house team. It was a photo taken out of context. It’s been removed and will eventually blow over. Nothing to worry about.” I wave my hand in the air, brushing it off.

“If you say so,” he says dubiously. “This is not the season to get distracted, Tor.” He emits another long sigh as he swipes a hand down his face. If I had a dollar for every time this poor man sighed from our antics I would be a billionaire. I stand straighter, concerned, because he never calls me Torrance or Tor, I’m always just Bailey. “I need you to take the team forward. I know your personal life is none of my business, but this team is. So, I’m going to ask you now.” He looks me in the eye then and continues. “Is this going to be a problem going forward? I don’t need you out there with a woman and various bunnies hanging off you like Ridley. You are the pillar of this team, Tor.”

“One hundred percent, coach. I leave it all on the ice, always. I barely know the woman; first time I met her was last night. She’s Ridley’s sister, Lia’s, neighbor, and she went to her first hockey game last night. Yes, she is an author, and I did offer my help because she is writing about hockey. Strictly professional. Nothing more,” I say, hoping what I am saying is enough to convince him. My words feel like lies on my tongue because there is a possibility Jaz and I will be more. But what I know for certain is that it will not interfere with my performance on the ice.

“Good. I don’t see anything wrong with what you’ve said. I know how the press twist words and manipulate the narrative to their benefit. I don’t want you getting wrapped up any unnecessary scandals because of it,” he replies.

“Understandable.” I nod. There is nothing else to say, so I don’t offer anymore reassurance.

He pats my shoulder and turns to leave. “Okay, good talk. Go home and get some sleep. You look like shit. See ya on the plane.”

I watch him walk away, feeling slightly better now that I’ve made it clear to him and to myself where I stand with Jaz. Now, I just need to make sure I don’t cross the line I’ve drawn in the proverbial sand.

My phone chimes in my back pocket, making me groan at the prospect of having to deal with anything else. Exiting the arena doors, I hurry over to my SUV and pull my keys from my pocket, along with my phone, and open the door. Sliding into my seat, the phone chimes again as it goes flying into my passenger seat. I lean over and read the screen. I smile. My first genuine smile for the day. I should be surprised by my reaction to the name I put her under in my phone, but it feels natural, right. Red flag? Oh, I am sure of it.When I dropped her off last night, I typed my number into her phone, unsure if she would even use it. Especially with all the negative press aimed at her when she opened those beautiful multi-colored eyes this morning. Boy, what I wouldn’t give to see— No, Tor.

SUPERNOVA: Thank you.

ME: For?

SUPERNOVA: You trying to get me to say more, Mr. Bailey? You know what for.

ME: Maybe. Are you biting?

SUPERNOVA: You sure you want to associate with the likes of me? #badforyourimage

ME: #stopthatshit. I didn’t take you for a woman to believe bullshit, Miss Starr. I guess I am going to have to do something about that.

SUPERNOVA: Seeing is believing, Mr. Bailey

ME: Tor. Call me, Tor. I don’t know Mr. Bailey, I never met him.

As soon as I push send, I cringe. I didn’t want to get into the ‘my mother raised me all on her own’ conversation. Nothing’s wrong with the topic, but it’s personal, and I don’t think Jaz and I are there yet. I see the dots bouncing on the screen, funnily enough I’m anxious for her reply. Expecting her to push me, she surprises me again.

SUPERNOVA: So, what are you going to do about it, Tor?

I growl at her response. I want to call her my good girl for doing what she was told, but again we aren’t there. Yet.

ME: I have three away games. I want you to watch them all. Can you do that for me, Supernova?

SUPERNOVA: I am sure there is so much more behind that name.

ME: You’re correct.

SUPERNOVA: Care to share?

ME: Not today.

SUPERNOVA: Fine. I’ll be working, “writing”, so for research purposes, I will be watching your games. I’ll make Lia watch them with me.

ME: Good. I’ll see you when I get back.

SUPERNOVA: Date?

ME: Nope. A test.

SUPERNOVA: I don’t work well under pressure, Tor.

I chuckle. This woman is going to be my undoing, and I’m not sure if I hate it. Hence, my name for her.

ME: I will be the judge of that, Miss Starr. Three days.

SUPERNOVA: Jaz. You will call me Jaz.

ME: Yes, ma’am. Jaz.

SUPERNOVA: Now, go and win for me. *winky face emoji*

I smile, choosing to drive instead of texting her back. Three days, Jaz, three long damn days before I get to see you again, and I can’t wait.