One Last Puck (BLP Sports #10)

Chapter 1

“Get it together, Lafayette.”

I gripped the edge of the sink, steadying myself as I fanned my face in the bathroom mirror.

The cold marble met my hands as I tried to focus on my reflection, but all I could see was my deceased ex-boyfriend, Avery.

His laughter echoed in my mind. He was a ghost forever, living rent free in my head.

The reason for today’s waterfall was a whiff of cologne that reminded me of him.

I thought I could get through a once-in-a-lifetime weekend at the EPIC Awards without breaking down, but that theory didn’t pan out.

Being here without him just seemed bittersweet.

We were supposed to be experiencing this together, but a stray bullet at a club two years ago had taken him away from me.

Everything, even the DJ’s music selection, had me in my feelings.

“You got this!” I whispered quietly to my reflection.

I grabbed a paper towel and dabbed the tears off my face before digging into my purse and grabbing my backup concealer.

My appearance was everything. This was supposed to be the best weekend of my life.

I couldn’t let these random, sudden bouts of grief ruin that.

I was presenting an award at the EPIC Awards.

Out of thousands of hopeful podcast entries, I’d won.

GZN Sports had flown me out, all expenses paid, for the opportunity of a lifetime to blog and create content for my show, and here I was at the pre-show party crying in the bathroom.

Grief was cruel that way. One second , I’m having the best experience of my life , and the next, I’m falling apart.

I hated that every time I thought I was okay, here came Avery’s ghost haunting me.

me. Usually, when this happened, I would scroll through my contact list and find something strong with a big third leg to lie under for the night, but I was here in a professional setting, and hooking up with a random this weekend was not an option.

I let out one last exhale and smoothed out my dress before turning to exit.

Don’t blow this opp o rtunity, Faye. I marched back into the ballroom.

Everyone was already mingling and exchanging business cards.

The music, drinks, and vibes were still going.

Hopefully, nobody had witnessed me run out with tears falling down my face.

The last thing I needed was to be known for making a dramatic scene.

I made my way back over to the bar where I had been sitting before my grief episode. My feet slowed as I approached the bar.

Just my luck, a man was occupying my seat. He turned to me with a lazy grin, and I quickly looked away, biting back a mix of annoyance and embarrassment as I headed in a different direction to find somewhere else to sit.

“Aye, aye! I was saving your seat,” he called out over the noise, causing me to stop walking.

I hesitated, glancing at him with a confused look on my face. He didn’t seem like the creepy type, but you could never judge a creep by his cover.

“Uh, thanks, but I’ll find another spot,” I replied.

“Nah, take your seat.” He slid off the stool and waved his hand so I could sit. “I saw you take off earlier. Figured you could use a break,” he said.

There was a hint of concern there, letting me know he’d seen me crying.

Great. I raised one eyebrow. I was skeptical that this wasn’t just some ploy to flirt with me.

He’d be the perfect distraction if I were back home, but I didn’t need that right now.

I needed to get a drink and to be left alone long enough to refuel my energy and enjoy the night and maybe even get some content.

“You saved my seat?” I finally repeated back to him.

“Cash App’d a lady a hundred dollars for it.” He smiled.

My hand flew to my mouth.

“No, you didn’t!” I gasped. “Why would you do that?”

“Just trying to be a nice guy. I assume this is your first pre-show party. I had nerves my first one of these, too.”

I took one last glance around the party. This was likely the only available seat in the house, and my feet were killing me in these six-inch heels.

“Well, thank you.” I slipped into the empty seat and steadied myself. “I’ll send it back. What’s your Cash App?”

“No need. Enjoy the night.”

The kind stranger moved a few feet down to a space on the other end of the bar.

I sighed. This was not how I expected day one to start.

I could do this. I just needed to use my grief to fuel my passion.

Avery was my biggest supporter, and he’d be so proud of how far I’d come with the little podcast I started in the living room of my one-bedroom apartment.

“May I get you anything?” The bartender approached right on time.

Since I couldn’t clear my mind with dick, I guess this open bar with top-shelf liquor would do.

“Anything you have that is cute and strong,” I told the tall, petite bartender as she stood before me, taking my order.

She nodded as she scurried off to make my drink. The seat next to me emptied, and the kind man moved quickly to fill it, his casual confidence radiating on the side of me.

“I hope you don’t mind if I sit here. I’ll be quick,” he offered. “Not being a creep.”

“Of course not, go ahead.”

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye.

I didn’t know why I hadn’t noticed before, but the man was fine.

I’m talking about “social media” fine. I eyed him casually.

He was equipped with all the things that women liked—beautiful, cinnamon-colored skin, a strong, chiseled jawline, and dimples to make the pussy wetter.

His freshly lined up kinky-curly fro tied it all together, making him the most handsome man in this room.

I tried to play it coy and act like I wasn’t checking him out, but I couldn’t look away.

I was sure he was an athlete since almost everyone here was.

He was dressed in all white, and diamonds littered his neck and wrist. He was a little dressed down for the occasion in shorts and a button down, but I dug the aesthetic.

The more I looked, the more I noticed something familiar about him.

Then it clicked. I had covered him on the podcast a few times.

I was sitting next to fine ass Jaxton Saint, one of the few black hockey players in the UHL, and suddenly, I was starstruck.

“Uh… You’re Jaxton Saint, right?” I stammered, my voice rising an octave.

“Guilty,” he said, showcasing a very arrogant smile, showing off the diamonds in his mouth I hadn’t noticed before. “And you’re Lafayette Porter, right? I’ve heard you say great things about me on your podcast.”

He watches my podcast. He’s heard me talk about him. My face lit up, and excitement washed over me. I’d never actually met a professional athlete in person.

“I’m Lafayette, um… y-yeah, that’s me,” I stuttered.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret: Most of the team watches your podcast.” He leaned in with a whisper. “You’re funny, and you keep it a hundred.”

Jaxton Saint called me funny. My face flushed red, and I smiled as the bartender finally returned with my drink.

“I’m sorry. I can’t believe real athletes are paying attention to little old me.”

A group of celebrities tuned in to my podcast was crazy. Before winning the contest, I didn’t even know people were noticing me on a large scale. I had about 75,000 subscribers. I mean, I had a few videos to go viral on Hollywood Tea Room, but I was still building my platform.

“It’s nothing little about you, shawty. I mean this in the most respectful ‘I’ll eat you off the bone’ way. You Big Mama around these parts!”

There went my cheeks again. Was he flirting with me?

“Thanks, I guess!”

I took my drink to the head and took a big sip. I needed to ignore that. The last thing I needed was for people to think I was using my sex appeal to get ahead in this male-dominated industry.

“It means a lot that people are tuning in. I’m just trying to elevate the black faces in sports, especially in hockey, where players that look like you are few and far between.”

“Exactly! That’s why I appreciate your show and why I choose to play hockey. I want to break barriers.”

His voice was warm, charming even, and turning me on. I watched as he shifted his bar stool to be closer to me. He was probably tired of shouting over all the noise.

“So, what brought you to the EPIC Awards? Are you nominated tonight?” I asked. The journalist in me was already going to work.

“Apparently, it takes more than skill and being the first black goalie in over a decade to get recognized. They’re strict over here.” He chuckled, and I joined him.

“You were robbed. You definitely should have gotten a Best Rookie nomination.”

“It’s cool. My time will come. I’m here to support a teammate’s nomination. My nigga Reese is nominated for Best Breakthrough Athlete , and a bunch of the team is here rooting for him.”

“That’s dope actually. Shows you’re a team player.”

“That, and I would not miss the free liquor.” He grinned, holding up a drink.

“Touché!” I took another sip of mine. “For what it’s worth, nominating you would have been a better story.”

“You got that right!” he said, and we nodded.

The conversation flowed seamlessly between us. It was like I had known him forever. I figured that maybe I should shoot my shot at getting my first celebrity guest on the show. That was what I was here for, after all.

“So, if you’re not doing anything after the awards, I’d love to have you come on the podcast,” I suggested. My heart raced slightly.

“Definitely,” he replied. His gaze flickered with interest. “I’d be down for that. When are you recording?”

“We can set something up for next month. I usually do it on Wednesdays,” I said, mapping out my schedule mentally. I hoped he didn’t think I was being too forward. Who knew when the next opportunity would present itself?