Chapter 1
Caden
Present day – age twenty
“What do you mean you’re going back to Kentucky?”
I shove past Hughes as he tries to block me, my skates slicing effortlessly over the ice as I keep pace with Shaw.
“Caden,” Shaw calls again, shooting me a disbelieving look as he huffs out a laugh. “We’re only one week into the NCAA games. Our next game is six days away!”
I give him an impassive glance before flicking my eyes over to Austin, Carter U’s D1 team goalie and my closest friend, checking whereabouts in his net I’m going to annihilate the puck.
Austin widens his stance, jerking his chin at me from behind his helmet and, knowing that Coach Benson can’t see my hands from this angle, I give Austin the finger, just to fuck with his head.
“Real friendly, asshole,” he shouts, clapping the boards strapped to his legs, and I flick my gaze back to the puck, just as Shaw whips it across to me.
My stick is already in motion and I send it flying into the net.
The puck whistles past Austin’s helmet and I flash him a smirk as I turn away, not bothering to celebrate with my teammates as Benson calls time on today’s practice.
The guys stay on the ice for another minute and I head over to Austin, Shaw keeping pace by my side.
“You’re some guy, you know that?” Austin starts, his gaze flashing toward Benson before charging for me.
Amusement flickers in my eyes, knowing that we aren’t really fighting, but brawling on the ice post-game with the guys is one of my favorite parts of practice.
Benson allows it under the guise of team bonding, testing where we stand with each other, and how far we’ll let things go after playing as opponents for two hours straight.
Austin pulls the blocker from one of his hands just in time to smack my stick away, and I chuckle quietly as I knock off his helmet, my glove connecting with his jaw as he bodychecks me to the ice.
“I thought you were supposed to block the goals,” I rumble teasingly. “I scored three times in one practice period.”
Austin shoves his trapper in my face and I laugh out loud as I knee him off of me, my breathing laboured after the speed that Coach made us run in that last play.
“That last goal doesn’t count. Benson was supposed to call time ten seconds prior.”
My chest shakes with laughter as I pull off my helmet, shaking out my hair as we catch our breath, and we let ourselves recharge in well-deserved silence as the rest of the guys make their way to the gate.
I plant my skates on the slick white surface, blinking intently at the silver blades, the weight of someone’s eyes burning into my profile as I lean back on my elbows.
I don’t glance up to check who it is, but that’s only because I know that it’s Coach Benson. We’ve always had a civil player-coach relationship, but during our past few practices I’ve had a feeling that he wants to ask me something.
And unless he wants to kick my ass off the team – which isn’t going to happen considering my goal count last season – I don’t have a clue about why he suddenly wants to talk to me.
“Did Caden tell you the news?” Shaw says to Austin as we get back up onto our skates, lazily sliding across the ice to where the other guys are milling around.
“What news?” Austin asks, before ripping his water bottle open with his teeth, and squirting the liquid into the back of his throat as if he’s still wearing his helmet.
Shaw throws an amused look in my direction and I roll my eyes, pulling off my gloves.
“He’s going back to Kentucky,” Shaw tells him.
Austin immediately chokes on his water.
“Caden,” Austin gapes, his cheekbones reddening in surprise. “Tell me you’re joking.”
I glance casually in his direction, stare at him for a beat, and then look away.
“No way,” Austin says, laughing gruffly as he looks me over. “We’re barely two weeks into term, let alone one week into actual games. How’s Benson letting you fly home to Kentucky when our next game’s in – what? – six days?”
“Because I’m the best player on the team.”
Austin gives me a rough elbow to the gut, and I laugh quietly as I elbow him back.
I mean, to be honest, that is why he’s allowing me to head back to Texas for a few days.
We’re at the start of the D1 hockey season and technically we’re supposed to be practicing like crazy, but Benson knows that I’m solid, and a couple of days away from the rink won’t harm the team.
Plus, I’ll maintain my fitness routine while I’m in Kentucky, even though we’re supposed to be careful when training off-campus during the season.
And the one other reason why he’s letting me go home for a couple of days?
That’ll be for whatever it is that Benson’s been wanting to talk to me about.
I’ve got a feeling in my gut that this is going to be a favor-for-a-favor kind of situation.
But instead of saying that to Shaw and Austin, I opt for the other truth of the matter.
I push my hair back from my forehead and murmur, “I’ve got a church thing that I need to go to.”
Austin blinks at me in disbelief as Shaw halts on his skates, his brow rising. Then a wry smirk tugs at his mouth, making him chuckle as he glances at Benson.
“Damn, you’re good,” he rumbles. “A church thing? Coach really bought that?”
“Yeah, he bought it,” I say drily, “because I do have a church thing that I need to go to.”
“And why exactly does Saint Caden need to be there?” Austin smirks. “I thought that your dad was a rancher, not a pastor.”
“He is a rancher,” I murmur. “But I need to be there for Winter.”
At the mention of my girlfriend, Shaw gives me a look and fights back a grin.
“You’re something else,” he admits, laughing as he tries to shove some of our teammates off the ice a little faster because at this rate it’ll be November by the time we hit the showers.
Austin narrows his eyes, looking me over, as he asks, “Why do you need to be there because of Winter?” Then he thinks for a moment and adds teasingly, “Unless her dad is the pastor.”
I stare at him for a long moment, before inhaling deeply and glancing away.
It takes him a couple of seconds to process it.
And then Austin’s jaw fucking dislocates.
“You’re shitting me,” Austin rasps, his brow hitting his hairline as we finally reach the edge of the rink.
I cast a quick glance in his direction and almost breathe out a laugh at how shocked his expression is.
“Your girlfriend is the pastor’s daughter?” he whispers. “How the fuck did we not know that? You’re telling me that Winter is your pastor’s daughter? She’s, what, a child of God?”
Now I do breathe out a laugh.
“I’m a child of God, too,” I rumble. “And her dad’s okay with it. He’s known me forever.”
“Caden,” Shaw laughs, “trust me, no-one would be okay with it. No pastor is okay with a guy like you hooking up with their daughter.”
I slide him a look and murmur, “Watch it,” not wanting my teammates to have that visual. “And, what do you mean, a guy like me?” My brow creases. “I’m really normal.”
“One, that’s debatable, but that’s beside the point,” Austin teases. “But two, you’re double Winter’s bodyweight, and you’re pretty hard to get a read on. Huge, quiet, and moody… you sound like a dad’s worst nightmare.”
I frown down at my blades and push my fringe back from my forehead.
“I’m… I…” I start to say quietly, but then it happens like it sometimes does, and my throat just stops working.
My brow creases with the familiar pressure, the inability to articulate my feelings, my chest rising and falling faster as the words simply refuse to come.
I swallow thickly, my shoulders heaving, and I blink away from my teammates, who haven’t currently noticed the internal struggle that I’m having to get my words out.
What I’d tell them right now if I could is that I’m never moody with Winter. She’s been the light in my life since the first moment that I saw her, and nothing makes me feel more complete than being the man by her side.
I swipe my palm over my jaw, clearing my throat in an attempt to form some words, but then I’m saved from the struggle as Benson finally sets down his clipboard.
“Hart,” he calls out, and Austin and I pause to glance across at him. “You got a minute?”
It isn’t really a question – as a team we drop everything when Benson needs a word with us – but I nod once anyway, and move around Austin as he claps my back.
“I’ll wait up and we can ride back to the hockey house after… whatever Coach wants from you,” Austin says.
I give him a nod, and then he heads with the guys back toward the changing rooms.
Then I trudge carefully in front of the seats, making sure that I don’t slice Benson’s toes off.
“Yeah, Coach,” I rumble, grateful that the words are flowing again. I send up a relieved prayer of gratitude and let my eyes slide over to Benson’s clipboard. “What’s up?”
Benson stares at me for a long moment, calculating who-knows-what in his mind, before releasing a deep exhale and unfolding his arms from in front of his chest.
“You know what I want to talk to you about, Caden,” he says heavily, the paternal expression on his face throwing me off for a moment.
I blink at him in silence, my brow rising slightly.
“Coach,” I say slowly, “I have no idea why you want to talk to me.”
Unless it has to do with my going back to Texas, in which case he can kiss my ass if he thinks he’s backtracking on that front.
My plane ticket home was booked before I even came to him for permission, because there’s nothing that anyone could say that would prevent me from spending my free time with Winter.
He picks up his clipboard from one of the seats and then uses it to gesture behind me, indicating that he wants me to start walking in the direction of the corridor, most likely meaning that I’m about to step inside his office.
I start manoeuvring back the way that I came, trudging slowly on my blades until we reach the door with his name plaque.
I flick a glance toward him and he nods his head, leading the way inside.
I stare at the plush carpet for a beat before carefully stepping onto it with my blades.
Benson sighs as he watches me, cringing as I make my way toward the chair in front of his desk.
“Hart, Jesus Christ. Don’t you have a pair of blade guards on you?” he asks, before laughing wearily and shaking his head, settling down into his chair. I drop heavily into my seat as he starts reading through the notes in front of him.
I use the moment of reprieve to begin to calm my post-practise breathing, my chest rising and falling deeply as I lean back in the seat, feeling relaxed.
“Hart, I’m going to cut to the chase,” Benson says, meeting my gaze as he drops his clipboard. “I want you to run for the position of Captain for your final year at Carter U.”
My chest halts on a deep inhale.
What did he just say?
I turn and glance over my shoulder, making sure that it’s me who he’s talking to.
“I’m talking to you, Caden,” he says drily, and I shift back around to face him, more confused than before.
Because… he knows that he’s talking to me, right? And being Carter U’s team captain would involve, like… talking.
“With all due respect,” I start, my voice a little hoarse, “I don’t think that I’m probably the best candidate for that position.”
“How’s that?” he asks, unfazed.
I gesture vaguely toward my chest. “I’m pretty quiet.”
He lifts an eyebrow in a subtle challenge. “So are you saying that I’m a yapper?”
I blink away from him, my cheekbones heating, and I rotate my palm against my sternum, kind of embarrassed.
“That’s not… what I meant,” I start, wincing as my deep voice rasps, my words stumbling. “I mean… there are other guys on the team who would… they could use that position to the team’s greater advantage. They’d enjoy the role more than I could. It’s second nature to them.”
“Well, aren’t you noble,” Benson deadpans, before searching my eyes like he’s reading my soul. “Caden, I know exactly how you are. Don’t you think that that’s maybe the reason why I’m offering you this opportunity?”
I swallow hard and shift my quads, squeezing my hands into fists to dispel the discomfort.
“What do you mean?” I murmur roughly.
“I want you to get outside of your comfort zone, Caden.”
My jaw flexes and I quickly swipe at it. “I already have my position secured with the Texas Stars, Coach,” I remind him. Meaning that I don’t need to put on a show during our season in order to get spotted.
“All the more reason to become the best player that you can be before you join ’em,” he drawls simply.
I wince and flick my eyes back to his.
I hate it when he’s logical. It makes it that much harder to ignore his good advice.
I don’t need to make any improvements to my play because I’m all set for once I graduate. I’ll be moving back home to Texas permanently so that I’m as close to Winter as possible, and then I’ll play pro for as long as I’m able to, before making the move back to the ranch full-time.
But with that being said, I understand his rationale. And I understand that Benson’s experience allows him to see opportunities that I’ve never considered before.
Because, admittedly, I’ve never imagined being a captain, but maybe there’s something to be said for trying my hand at it while I’m still a college player at Carter U.
Maybe it could be beneficial. Maybe it could help with… a lot of things.
Benson watches me for a moment and then he nods his head, clearly seeing where my mind is at and that we’ve reached the same conclusion.
“So you’ll think about it,” he states, reading my mind, and I poke my tongue in my cheek for a beat before sighing and nodding my head.
“Yeah,” I rumble, before getting back up on my blades and accepting the sheet of paper that he offers me over the table.
I scan the line at the top of the page.
Preliminary application for the Carter Ridge Rangers D1 Hockey Team. Position: Captain.
And Coach has left the line next to it blank for me to write my name in.
I swallow hard and fold up the paper, tucking it safely away inside my glove.
“Okay, Coach,” I say, heading toward the door. “I’ll think about it.”