Pawliday Love

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

KILLIAN

“ M cCreary, get your head out of your ass,” Theo Gerard, my winger, snapped as I crossed the blue line. The ref called offsides, and cursed.

“Need coffee, old man?” Yanvenko chirped as he skated by.

“Ask your wife,” I retorted. Was I taunting him? Hell yes. Did I care? A little. My mood was off, and I usually let Miles take the goon role, but tonight I was pissed off.

“Asshole,” he said, getting ready to throw his stick, but the ref came between us before anything could happen.

Harrison, the ref, gave us both a pointed stare. “Santa’s checking his list, boys. Don’t make me give him a reason to keep you on the naughty list.”

Theo skated up and came to a stop beside me. “Cap, one goal lead. Last thing we need is a four on four right now.” Fuck, he was right. And as Captain of the Triumph, I should be the one making sure we weren’t going to blow it because someone was letting an off night fuck with the team. I nodded, working my mouth guard.

Ten minutes and a power play goal later, my knee bounced up and down as I answered questions about how our game was different this year against Chicago, or how Theo’s new role as a single dad influenced his game.

Afterwards, I headed to Noah’s place for a few hours of sleep before the big Montreal Triumph Book Boyfriend Christmas fundraiser the next day. The place I’d been leasing sold a few weeks back, and the Triumph goalie was letting me stay with him while I searched for a new place to call my own.

This time of year always fucked with my head. When you grow up never knowing when your dad would be home and your mom missing him like crazy, the holidays were a mixed bag of happy memories, or my mom hiding in her room after she thought we fell asleep. Crying her eyes out because she missed him. Love sucked sometimes.

“Killer, nice of you to join me,” Noah called from inside the house as I opened the door and dropped my bag next to the couch.

“Nice of you to wait for me,” I returned.

He shrugged with a grin. “I know how much you love Little St. Nick,” he quipped. “And Coach Bro drove me home. But, God, watching him and Zoe is still fucking weird.”

“I wouldn’t want to watch my best friend with my brother or sister, so I get it. Shit’s supposed to be weird.”

Noah LeCavalier’s best friend, Zoe, started dating the Triumph’s coach not too long ago, who also happened to be Noah’s big brother. Fucking shit was getting confusing as hell.

I glanced around the room. An eight foot tall tree lit up the room, sparkling and twinkling like a damn Hallmark Card. There were stockings hung on his damn mantle. “Did you-”

“Yep. You might not be a Ghost Hockey Daddy member officially, Killer, but you’re our captain, so, you get a stocking.”

I’d yet, in my ten years in the NHL, to meet a goalie who wasn’t a bit off, or more, in the head. But Noah took things to an entirely different level. And I’d, so far anyway, successfully avoided his infamous chats. “Why?”

Noah threw his hands up. “How the hell is Santa going to know where you’re living if your stocking isn’t hung by the chimney with care?”

The mantle sat above the type of fireplace that vented into the room and flipped on with a switch. I gestured at the non-chimney fireplace. “No chimney to be with care, Hockey Boy. And Santa has fucking better things to do than stuff my stocking. Not that I have any problem in that department.”

A hand came up, finger pointing in my direction. “Hang a sock. On every door. But make sure you’re safe, and don’t let them drug you so they can steal our stockings. Last year, Zoe and Eden caught one of the rookies stealing mine after I invited that naughty lister over to play Xbox. And guess who isn’t with the team anymore? Yep. Santa giveth, Santa taketh away.”

It took me a second to figure out what the hell he was saying. Fucking goalies. “Sock, got it. And I’m pretty sure the guy was a shitty player. Captain,” I motioned at myself, “remember?”

“Still say it was Santa,” he mumbled as he headed to his room. “The big guy is always watching.” The door made a loud click as it closed, and I stood there, staring at the tree, wondering how the hell I ended up here.

Living with a fucking goalie, who truth be told, was probably one of the best guys I knew, alone because as much as my dick loved no strings, I had no desire to go out and find someone to hang a sock for in the last few weeks. And now my game was off, which I’m sure Coach would give me shit for at practice Sunday. But for now, I grabbed a glass, poured two fingers of Falling Leaves Bourbon and sat on the couch, staring at the damn stockings Noah hung with care.

“A Santa hat? Are you serious?”

Lanie, the Triumph head of PR and player wrangler, looked way too amused as she handed me the red and white faux fur hat emblazoned with the Triumph Hockey Logo. “How else will they know you’re available? Plus, you’re July.”

I arched a brow, still not getting what she was trying to say.

“Cap?”

And there it was. I’d come to Montreal a few years ago after being traded from the team I’d been drafted by. Hit my stride almost immediately, especially after the team learned I knew a rudimentary amount of French. Earned me brownie points, and I became captain the following year and had been ever since. I was vocal, refs liked me, and I was usually not so grumpy.

For some reason, this year hit me harder than last year. Which was crazy, because last year, was the accident. When I almost lost my dad, we spent the holidays taking turns at the hospital. Delivering coffee and making Mom take a break from being by his side every second she could.

This year should be a time to be grateful. But for some reason, I was off. Nothing felt right.

A humming noise filled the air, and I felt like my eardrums were being tortured by tiny fans, vibrating over and over. People rushed by, some carrying trays with champagne glasses decorated with floating cranberries and some kind of green sprigs or hor devours.

Lanie cleared her throat, waved the red faux fur atrocity in my face. “Killian, you’re usually the guy I can count on for these things. Don’t make me change my gift from the cookie place to a lump of coal!”

I gave myself a mental shakedown, because she was right. I was usually that guy. The captain who did all the right things or took on more so that everyone was happy. “Ho ho ho.” I faked a smile, but Lanie looked like she saw right through me. “It’s fine. I’ll do my duty. Smile, kiss babies-”

“Maybe you need to kiss someone closer to your own age by at least ten years, Cap. Beware of the mistletoe.” She pointed at the doorway behind us and headed off to torture more of the guys with the bundle of red and white in her arms. “Hey, Hockey Boy!”

I chuckled, because I was pretty sure Noah brought his own damn Santa hat. And tried to give me one until I shot him a death glare. A whoop from their general direction confirmed my suspicions.

Fucking goalies.

“Mr. McCreary?”

I pivoted on my heel and came face to face with a petite brunette dressed in a short black dress. A few weeks ago I would’ve hit on her, because she was cute and had a sassy smile. But, now? Nothing. “That’s me, and you can call me Killian.”

“Killer, my man,” Noah whooped as he came up behind me. Her lips twitched at the goalie’s antics.. “Indra, nice to see you. Eden gave me your rec. Intense.”

“Oh, so you’re into the whole Arthurian Legend retelling, huh?”

As the two chatted, the background noises turned into an insistent hum that grew louder and louder until-”

“Hey, Killer. Easy on the poor Santa hat,” Noah said, his eyes serious for once.

The hat, once in one piece, had a slight tear where I had inadvertently ripped it while holding in my hands. “Fuck.”

Indra raised her brows, then pasted a smile on her face. “I have a few more in the shop next door. And I need to check in with Noelle, too, to make sure she doesn’t-”

Noelle? You’ve got to be kidding me. Happy fucking holidays.

“Indra!!!” A voice carried over the din, and a harried and hurried yet so put together looking woman came rushing over. Behind Noah, Jaxon gave me the chin nod with a pointed look at the curvy woman headed our way, auburn hair in one of those updos that was made to look effortless but wasn’t. Having a sister meant I noticed these things. She stopped just in front of us, offered me a quick smile, and turned to Indra. “I need you to help me with-” She glanced over her shoulder at where Jaxon stood with hands in his pants pockets.A smirk on his face as he eyed her up and down. She glared at him and he returned the look with a ferocity that spoke volumes. Since being traded from Chicago, Hunter had become one of the guys I hung out with because of where we were in our careers. Noah, the crazy fucker, tended goal at the top of his game. But, when you reach a certain point, you start to look at the world a little differently.

“Nia? You need me to help you with what?” Indra asked, her eyes darting between the two of them faster than mine were.

And the way he was checking out Nia, he decided looking at her differently was happening.

“What?” Nia whipped her head around and pressed her hand to her forehead. “The auction table was somehow mixed up, and the other book boyfriends need their hats, and-”

“Hats are next door, right?”

Indra put her hand on my arm before Nia could respond. The other woman looked at me like she just realized I was standing there. “Yes. I know it’s asking a lot, but…” She glanced back at Jaxon and then at Nia with a smirk. “I would really appreciate your help.”

“No problem.” I hooked my thumb in the direction of the door of the opening that resembled one of those glass garage doors separating the two side by side retail spaces. “That way is where I find, what was her name?”

One side of her mouth quirked. “Noelle. You can’t miss her. She should have the rest of the Santa hats, and a new not mangled one for you. Plus your #MrNiceGuy book boyfriend tag, since it seems you never got it.” She eyed the balled up red and white hat in my hand, then grinned. “Thank you, Killian.”

“Go get her, Killer,” Noah quipped, squeezing my shoulder then shoving me in the direction of the door.

“Not helpful, LeCav,” I muttered.

“Killer? What the hell-”

“Nia, it’s a nickname,” Indra muttered as she and Nia left me standing next to Noah, wearing a grin like a fucking idiot, torn Santa hat in hand. “He’s not going to actually kill anyone…”

“Killer, don’t be such a Scrooge , and go get yourself a little holly jolly with Noelle. Gotta love that name,” Noah grinned as he donned his Santa hat, ironically with an oversized gift tag that read ‘ #HockeyBoy’ hanging from the fuzzy white ball at the tip. “ I’m going to spread a little holiday cheer and work the donors before dinner. Now, be a good ghost hockey daddy and help out the damsel in distress before all the Christmas magic fades away.”

Hands in his pockets, he walked away, grinning and being the charming mother fucker he was…and I headed through the door next to the huge glass one separating the two spaces. And prayed whoever Noelle was, she wasn’t waiting for a Christmas Miracle.

Because I wasn't sure I believed in those anymore.