Ice Contact (Milwaukee Steel Riders #1)

2. Hayes

2

hayes

“ Y es, I made sure to pack enough warm clothes for the Midwest,” I say to my mom on the other end of the FaceTime call. “I know I just moved here from Tampa, but you do remember I play ice hockey for a living, right? And that I grew up in Minnesota? Milwaukee is, like, five hours southeast from St. Paul, so technically it should be warmer here.”

She scoffs, “Yes Hayes, I remember. Who do you think took you to every practice, drove three hours to weekly tournaments, and sat in freezing cold rinks nearly every weekend of my adult life? I’m just saying, you know how it gets up here once winter starts and…oh, for Pete’s sake, just let me be a worrying mother for once, okay? If I tell you I’m worried about you being cold, it takes away the need to tell you I’m worried about you getting hurt on the ice. Just let me have my mothering moment.”

Laughing, I settle back in my chair, smiling at the woman who has supported me through everything. “Okay, okay, I get it Mom. I will make sure to bundle up once winter hits…in three months.” Even at thirty-one years old, my heart swells knowing she still worries about me on the ice. Hell, I probably should worry about myself on the ice . Hockey is a high contact sport, and injuries happen every day. But it’s out of my control. I’m a professional athlete; I can’t play like I’m scared of getting hurt. I would’ve never made it to the NHL if that were the case. To be successful, I have to play every game with one-hundred percent focus. There’s no room for fear.

I wrap up the call and get ready to head out. After a long day of unpacking at my new place, I take a quick minute to appreciate the amazing view of Lake Michigan from my living room. It’s been pouring rain all day, so it’s not the most picturesque view at the moment. Even still, the sound of the rain beating against my building and the rippling drops cascading on the lake is peaceful. When I visited a few weeks ago to sign the lease there were dozens of sailboats out on the dark blue water. With the cool breeze waltzing in off the lake and the music festival happening down by the shore, I felt like good things were finally ahead for me. It was the perfect mix of everything I love. They can’t call Milwaukee ‘the good land’ for nothing, right?

It's my tenth year in the league and I’m just about to start my first season with the Milwaukee Steel Riders. I’ve been in Tampa for the last few seasons, and Carolina before that. But when my contract was up in Tampa, I jumped at the opportunity to be back in the Midwest to get away from the fucking humidity. Plus, Vladi Volkov is the goalie here. He’s one of my best friends and teammates from college, so I’m pumped to be on the same team with him again. Training camp starts in a few days. Hockey is a long, grueling season and requires the intense amount of hard work and discipline I’ve maintained for most of my life. From staying in shape in the off season, to sticking to my proper nutrition, consistent strength training, and routine mental health check ins, it’s a lot to keep up with.

Tonight though? I just need to relax. I’ve been cooped up inside all day. I don’t even have groceries yet. The internet installer doesn’t come until tomorrow, so it’s not like I can plop down on the couch to watch TV. Searching on my phone, I find a bar with good reviews just a few blocks from my new place. Glancing out the window, I can’t help but grin. The rain has let up, for now, so I throw on a baseball cap and a hoodie, hoping I’m still new enough to the team people won’t recognize me yet, and walk to the bar.

This bar is packed tonight, and I grab the only open stool, ordering a Spotted Cow. As I wait for my drink, I respond to a quick text from my agent making sure I got settled in. Tapping out a nameless tune on the bar, my mind is captivated by a sound unlike anything I’ve ever heard before. This is a noisy bar, but the song cuts through all the commotion. It’s one of the most soulful sounds I’ve ever heard. My eyes, as if controlled by something outside my understanding, land on the stage where a gorgeous woman is sitting behind a piano singing. My mouth goes dry, and the air is sucked from my lungs, like I’ve just taken a gut punch from an enforcer on the ice. Flowing auburn hair cascades past her shoulders while sun-kissed skin glows under the stage lights; she has stunning crystal blue eyes I can see all the way from here, and I’m desperate to dive into their depths. I don’t know what song she’s singing, but I know I don’t care. She could be singing the names of my teammates, and I wouldn’t even notice, the melody she’s singing tunneling from my ears straight into my soul.

A tap on my shoulder breaks the trance I’m in, and I turn to see a man with an annoyed look on his face beside me gesturing toward the bartender who’s trying to get my attention. The bartender smiles, noticing how distracted I am by tonight's entertainment.

“Want to start a tab or close out?” the bartender asks again.

“Oh, umm…yeah, sure. I’ll start a tab,” I say handing the bartender my card. “Sorry about that; I spaced out for a second. Got a lot on my mind this evening.”

The bartender smiles again. “No problem. Happens more than you think around here.”

With a gorgeous girl belting out notes like that up on a small bar stage, I have no doubt.

“You like what you hear up there?” the man beside me asks.

“Yeah, she’s really good,” I reply, once again entranced by her voice.

“That’s my girlfriend, Olivia. She sings here every Friday night. I got her this gig. She’s lucky I know the owner,” he smugly replies.

She’s lucky he knows the owner. What kind of thing is that to say about your girlfriend? I look at him again. Your girlfriend who is obviously talented. “You got her this gig? Not her singing skills?”

He shrugs his shoulders, looking at his phone. “I mean she can sing, but talent only gets you so far. You have to know people. And I know people.” He slides his phone into his pocket. “I’m Banks by the way.” He extends his hand and I shake it with a polite nod.

“Hayes,” I reply skeptically. I’m normally a ‘nice to meet you’ type of person, but after what’s come out of this guy’s mouth, I’m not actually sure it is nice to meet him. He got her this gig and talent only gets you so far? I work in professional sports and know a lot of cocky people, but this guy…I hide my scoff by clearing my throat. I’ve known him for less than five minutes, and he takes the gold medal in self-promotion.

“Do you come here every week to hear your girlfriend sing?”

He scoffs. “Hell no. Normally I play softball, but the game was rained out. Damn rain. I’d much rather be playing softball. I’m not into this whole music thing. It’s nice she has this to do on Fridays so I can have a night off from her.” He groans, rolling his head back to look at the ceiling. “She’s so clingy. She wants to hang out three or four times a week.” He drops his head back, lifting his eyebrows as if I’d understand what he meant. “It’s kind of a drag.”

Who the hell is this guy? It takes every ounce of my energy to grip the edge of the bar with my hand and not ball it into a fist to punch this guy square in the face. My mother drilled into me that we treat women with respect. This guy has obviously not met my feisty mother ; Kristine Larson would smack this guy on the side of the head if she could hear the few words he’s spoken about his girlfriend.

I take a minute to process everything and decide to prod him a little more about his ‘clingy’ girlfriend. The one with the killer auburn hair and piercing blue eyes currently singing some sort of siren song and drawing me in.

“Isn’t spending time together kind of the point of a relationship?”

He lets out a roaring laugh, clapping me on the shoulder. “Listen man, once you’re married to them, you’re stuck with them. All day. Every day.” He leans back in his seat, lifting his fingers halfheartedly at the bartender. “Might as well enjoy my freedom now. You know how these girls are. Always wanting to spend every minute of the day together. I need my time off. Time to hang with the guys. I can’t give up all my friends to hang out with my girlfriend twice a week…you know what I mean? I’m actually getting ready to pay my tab and head home to play puck with my roommates after this.”

“Puck? As in you play softball and hockey?” I ask as I take another sip of my beer, trying to keep my cool realizing he’s going to ditch this girl.

He laughs. “No man…we play NHL ’94 on an old school Sega Genesis video game console. It’s a classic, and my buddies and I play it religiously. We made it into a drinking game too, so we load up on beers and play all night long. If you’d like to join us, I can give you the address. If you’re into hockey, that is.”

Yeah. I’m into hockey. Not fucking ‘puck’ or whatever the hell he just called it. Who calls it puck? This motherfucker apparently. Thanks to my ball cap and nondescript clothes, he is oblivious to who he’s talking to. I’m not super famous, especially out of my hockey gear, but most people in the hockey community know who I am and that I just signed for the Riders. Not Banks though. What kind of a name is Banks anyway? Too bad we aren’t on the ice. I would smash this guy into the boards so fucking hard and take whatever penalty or fine came my way. This guy is, apparently, dating an amazing singer with the voice of an angel and is upset she wants to spend time with him. Is this guy for fucking real?

“No, thanks,” I reply, “I’ve had a long day. Really great meeting you though, Bart.” My voice drips with sarcasm, my frustration and distaste quite clear.

“Oh, it’s Banks,” he says, his tone filled with irritation.

“Oh gosh, so sorry about that. It’s so loud in here, I must have misheard.”

I didn’t mishear shit.

Everyone in the bar is now singing along with the stunning woman on stage, and thanks to jackass over here, I know her name. Olivia . It is just as beautiful as she is, and somehow, it’s comforting to repeat it in my mind. Her voice fills every inch of the bar, and I realize I know the song she’s singing. It’s a Journey song… I fucking love Journey . Goosebumps cover my arms as the entire bar sings along, taking nothing from the beauty of her talent.

She ends the song and the entire bar cheers for her. Well…everyone except for douchebag over here, who is too busy paying his tab to clap for his girlfriend. I haven’t even met Olivia yet, and I can tell she deserves better than this asshat trash talking her in a bar to a random stranger.

I would give anything for a chance to show Olivia she’s worthy of so much more.