Puck In Time (Pucks, Packs & Pregnancies #1)

Chapter 1 Axel

AXEL

I woke up to Stan’s phone buzzing on his nightstand for the third time in ten minutes. My roommate groaned and rolled over. One arm flopped over the side of his narrow bed in our cramped dorm room.

“Stan, answer it or mute it,” I bellowed.

“It’s probably my mom.” His voice was muffled by the pillow. “She gets confused by time zones.”

His mother lived on the east coast, not halfway around the world, but I zipped my mouth. It wasn’t his fault she called him at all hours.

But after checking the time, I had to get up anyway. I heaved myself out of bed and studied the whiteboard above my desk where my schedule was jotted down in neat rows and columns.

As today was Saturday, I had an early practice followed by film review where the team would study an upcoming opponent’s recent match. After that, I had to get to conditioning which was basically the off-ice training to keep us in shape.

I glanced at Stan’s side of the room which looked as though a tornado had swept through it. Textbooks, dirty and clean laundry, and empty disposable coffee cups littered every surface.

“What time do you have to be at the rink?” Stan sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Do you want me to pick up breakfast for you on the way to the library?”

I had to be at practice in twenty minutes. “No time, but thanks. I’ll grab a protein smoothie on the way.”

It was kinda our routine that he’d get food or coffee for me and have it waiting when I came in exhausted after practice. Stan would also fill me in on whatever drama had occurred that day as he’d been researching for his biology major.

We’d been roommates since freshman year when I’d arrived with a full ride and my five-year plan in place.

I’d won a hockey scholarship and crushed division play.

Both of those were checked off my list. Going pro was next, but I’d made team captain as a sophomore which was the youngest in my school’s history.

Everything was falling into place as I’d planned it.

But there was one thing that wasn’t part of the plan, though I’d like it to be, and that was to do with Stan. Like me, he was a shifter, though being surrounded by humans on campus, that part of our life we sorta kept to ourselves.

He was so different from me. He was a night owl and loved trying snacks from different countries, often with disastrous results. He was messy and had never met a scheduling app that could unravel the chaos in his life.

But Stan was my mate. My wolf and I recognized him the moment we met, but he didn’t. And at eighteen years of age and just starting college, it was early to mark one another. Neither of us had experienced life, so I never said anything.

Sometimes shifters were able to scent their one and only, while others had to shift with their mate before the bond made itself known.

Foxes were like that. They had to shift before they recognized their mate.

That was how I consoled myself that Stan wasn’t aware he was my mate.

Though there was niggling thought which never went away.

What if he wasn’t my one and only? And which was worse, having him as my roommate and best friend or knowing for certain he’d never be mine? I didn’t have an answer, which sucked.

“I’ll have coffee waiting when you get back.” He scrolled a website on his phone. “And maybe some spicy, mind-blowing, mouth-numbing cashews.”

I informed my wolf and belly to be prepared, and my beast hunkered down, saying he could take the heat.

“Are you nervous about the big game on Friday?”

“Nope.”

“Liar.” He pulled on a hoodie. “I can tell ‘cause you’re quiet.”

My mind was on his scent and how I wished we could shift together, but I nodded because it was easier. “I’m focused is all.”

But the nagging in my brain began again.

As close as we were, we’d never shifted together.

Stan always had an excuse, and my mind went to a place I didn’t want it to.

Somehow he knew we weren’t mates and he’d picked up on my feelings.

He was being a good friend by sparing me the pain of being rejected. .

Stan grabbed his backpack. “Try not to break anything at practice.”

“I’ll do my best.” I grabbed my gear from where I’d left it last night and headed out.

Practice went well. The ice was where I could channel my frustration and energy and do something productive. Coach ran us through drills, and I pushed myself because I was the captain and that was what captains did.

I executed a perfect slapshot, and Coach yelled, “Looking good, Chartris. Keep that up for regionals and we’re solid.”

When I finally made it back to the room, Stan was in study mode, surrounded by books and a pile of papers. He’d bought me my favorite sandwich, but the coffee was cold because I was later than usual.

I was emerging from the shower ready to demolish my sandwich when my phone buzzed. And again. And a third time.

“You’re popular today.” I shot Stan a look because his voice had an edge to it, but he’d swung his chair around and flipped the page in his textbook. I’d figure out what got his briefs in a knot later.

Messages appeared on the display.

Did you see this?

Oh my gods!

What in the heck is going on?

The last text contained a link to a news article published ten minutes ago.

University Hockey Program Suspended Amid Recruiting Violations.

I collapsed onto my bed clutching my phone while skimming the details.

There’d been an anonymous tip and an investigation.

There was evidence of recruitment violations, and the coaching staff was implicated.

Funds had been misused, and the athletic department had suspended the program pending a full investigation. And it was effective immediately.

“Ax, what’s wrong?” Stan was hovering over me.

I couldn’t find the words to reply, so I gave him my phone. He sank down beside me and his hand holding the phone was trembling.

“Ax, you did nothing wrong.”

“We’re collateral damage, though.”

The phone rang, and I wanted to ignore it, climb into bed, and put the pillow over my head.

“It’s the program director.” Stan placed the phone in my lap.

The director spent as few words as possible, letting me know there was an emergency meeting in fifteen minutes and I had to be there.

I got to my feet and stumbled toward the door until Stan reminded me I wasn’t dressed and had a towel wrapped around my hips.

The meeting was pretty grim, with all games canceled and scholarships under review.

Students had the option to transfer out without penalties.

Other students were already manning their phones reaching out to other schools, but I was numb and plodded, one foot in front of the other, back to my room.

I should have been doing what the other guys were because my future had crumbled before my eyes.

But leaving this school wasn’t just about starting over. I’d be leaving Stan, my mate and the one the universe intended for me. He’d miss me, I assumed, ‘cause we were great friends, but not in a “heart ripped out of his chest” way.

He was staring out the window when I returned, ignoring his study materials. I explained my options.

“I don’t know what I'm going to do.”

He kneeled in front of me. “Yeah, you do. You have to transfer.”

“But I’ve built a life here.”

My wolf was insisting I drag Stan into the woods, we shift and mate.

But that was him being selfish and not understanding I might not be the one for Stan.

I’d never forgive myself if we bonded and he didn’t return my feelings.

Besides, he had to finish his degree, not be mated to me and dragged to another college where he might not be offered a place. He, too, was on a scholarship.

“Hockey is your future.” He placed a hand on my knee. “You can’t throw that away.”

I was tempted to tell him what was in my heart and that leaving him would be like tearing myself in two. Any success I might achieve in hockey would be nothing if he wasn’t with me.

“It’s not that simple.”

The phone rang again, and I almost ignored it because it was an unknown number.

“Axel Chartris.”

It was the head coach from Whitford University. He offered me a full scholarship and a guaranteed starting position.

“You’d be a great asset to our program.”

It was a division one team and had a good track record for people going pro. I told him I had to think about it.

“I can give you twenty-four hours.”

Stan had heard enough of the conversation and told me I had no choice.

“You take it, and I’ll read about your exploits on ESPN.”

My wolf was clawing at me, saying we couldn’t leave Stan. He had to come with us. But I refused to destroy his career.

I accepted the offer, and on the day I left, Stan and I promised to stay in touch. But he’d get a new roommate and complete his studies, and who knew where he’d end up?

We hugged, and I memorized his scent while tamping down the trauma I was experiencing at being separated from my mate. Stan’s forlorn face as we waved goodbye was also committed to memory.

My wolf told me he’d never forgive me, and I walked away, wondering if I’d ruined my life.