The Captain’s Curfew (Maple Creek: Thunder #1)

Chapter 1

ONE

Logan

Every pair of eyes in the locker room is on me. Not because they want to be. Because they have to be.

I take a deep breath as I look around the room and formulate what I need to say in my head.

Discipline. Focus. Control.

That’s what it takes to be a captain in the NHL, and that’s exactly what I bring to the Maple Creek Thunder.

It’s not about being the fastest skater or the flashiest scorer.

It’s about setting the standard and ensuring this team stays in line—especially after last season’s disaster.

The scandal nearly cost us our reputations, our contracts, and, for some of us, our entire careers.

A different kind of tension hangs in the air today—thick and still. Even the guys who usually can't sit still, like Ryder and CJ, are quiet. Their knees bounce with restless energy, but their mouths are shut for once.

They know this isn’t just another team meeting. Not after last season.

I grip the edge of the conference table in the Thunder’s meeting room, staring at my teammates as they shift uncomfortably in their seats.

“I’m not going to sugarcoat it,” I start, my voice rough from the past hour of talking. “We got lucky. Management should have torn this team apart after what happened last year, but they didn’t. They gave us a second chance.” I let my gaze sweep over them. “And we’re not going to screw it up.”

A murmur of agreement ripples through the room, but I see the resistance in some of the younger guys.

Jake Mercer, our rookie forward, leans back in his chair, arms crossed, looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here.

CJ, our goaltender, drums his fingers against the table, his usual cocky smirk in place.

Even Declan Hayes, my best friend and one of the Thunder’s top centers, looks a little too relaxed for my liking.

The Thunder should have made the playoffs last year.

Hell, we should’ve gone all the way. We had the talent.

We had the numbers. What we didn’t have was discipline.

We got distracted. We made headlines for all the wrong reasons—a locker room bet that went viral.

A scandal that nearly took down half our sponsor deals, and players too focused on drama to notice the team falling apart.

I won’t let that happen again.

"I don’t care if it’s your rookie year or your tenth. I don’t care how many points you scored last season. If you’re not here to give everything to this team, leave now."

No one moves.

Good.

"We’re not here to screw around. No more drama. No more parties. No more headlines unless they’re about goals and wins."

I grab a marker and write it in big, black letters on the whiteboard: ZERO DISTRACTIONS.

"Make it your mantra. Tattoo it on your damn foreheads if you have to. This year, we play smart. We play hard. And we win. Got it?"

A few muttered affirmatives echo through the room. I narrow my eyes.

"I said, got it?"

"Yes, Captain," they answer, this time in unison.

I exhale sharply. “That means curfews are strict this season. No more bar fights, no more scandals, no more distractions. If you have a problem with that, take it up with management.”

CJ raises a hand. “So, just for clarification—if I happen to be out past curfew but I’m doing something super wholesome, like rescuing kittens, does that count?”

Laughter ripples through the room, but I don’t smile. “You’d better ensure those kittens can vouch for you in a press conference.”

CJ groans and drops his head on the table while Declan chuckles beside him.

“You’re a real hard-ass, Carter,” CJ complains.

“Yeah, well, someone has to be.” I push back from the table, gathering my notes. “We’re done here. Practice starts at eight tomorrow morning. Be on time.”

Declan stays behind as the guys file out, watching me with that look that says he’s about to ask for something I don’t want to give.

I sigh and beat him to it. “What do you want, Hayes?”

His grin is quick and disarming. “You make me sound so predictable.”

“That’s because you are.”

Declan props a hip against the table, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay, so you remember my little sister, Violet?”

I stiffen instantly. “What about her?”

“She just got hired as the team’s new social media manager.”

Shit. I do remember Violet Hayes—mostly because she’s been a thorn in my side since she was a teenager.

Declan’s kid sister had a habit of tagging along when we were younger, always looking at me with those big, wide eyes that made my heart race and my life difficult.

I would never admit it, but I always had a crush on her.

I never went there because I was focused on hockey, and I knew that Declan would have murdered me.

The last thing I need is her complicating my season right now.

“And,” Declan continues, “she needs a place to stay for a few weeks until she finds an apartment. She had a place lined up, but it fell through at the last minute. Could she crash with you for a few days? Just until she finds a new one?”

I stop walking. “You want your little sister to stay with me?”

“She’s not ten anymore, Logan. She’s twenty-four. And you’ve got the space. Come on, it’s only for a few days.”

I stare out over the parking lot, jaw clenched. The last time I saw Violet, she was barely out of college. All bright eyes and smart-ass comments, always teasing me whenever I was over at Declan’s. She’s got this… light about her. It's the kind of light I’ve avoided my whole career.

“You trust me living with your sister?” I ask finally.

“I trust her to kick your ass if you so much as scowl at her too hard. Besides, you’re the safest guy I know. Completely immune to fun.”

I swear under my breath. “No.”

“Come on, man. It’s just temporary.”

“No,” I repeat, firmer this time. “I don’t do roommates.”

“Dude, she’s my sister.”

“Exactly. Which is why you should handle it.”

Declan exhales. “I would, but my condo’s getting renovated, and she needs a place now. She’s not some random girl, Carter. She’s Violet.”

That’s precisely the problem.

I press my fingers against my temple. “Fine,” I mutter. “Two weeks max. That’s it.”

Declan’s face splits into a victorious grin. “I knew you had a soft spot somewhere in that frozen heart.”

I glare at him, but he claps me on the back before heading out. I sit there for a long moment, staring at the empty meeting room, already regretting my decision.

This is going to be a disaster.

I try to put that out of my mind as I pack up and make the short drive home. After showering, and tidying up the place a bit, tensing at every sound outside my door. I’m not sure if I’m dreading seeing Violet again or excited.

Sighing, I sink onto my couch and stare at the clock. Finally, I hear the knock on my apartment door, and I already know who it is. With a resigned sigh, I pull it open and find Violet standing there, beaming up at me like she hasn’t ruined my perfectly structured life.

“Hey, Logan,” she says cheerfully, holding two suitcases. “Your new favorite roommate has arrived.”

She leans in like we’re old friends and wraps me in a hug before I can dodge it.

I freeze.

She’s warm. Soft. And entirely too close. I stand there like a statue until she pulls back, grinning up at me, completely unaware that she’s thrown me off of my axis.

“Wow. You haven’t changed a bit,” she says.

I have. I’ve gotten harder. Colder. But I don’t correct her.

She glances around again. “Your place is… very clean.”

“That’s the goal.”

She laughs, the sound light and easy. I lean against the doorframe, arms crossed. “This isn’t college, Violet. There’s no dorm room welcome party.”

Her eyes twinkle. “Damn. And I was really looking forward to the icebreaker games.”

I bite back my smile, not moving as she brushes past me, dragging her luggage inside like she owns the place.

She’s wearing a Thunder hoodie that’s way too big for her, probably Declan’s, with her blonde hair piled into a messy bun.

She’s all sunshine and warmth, and my perfectly ordered world gives a little lurch, like it’s bracing for impact.

“This is nice,” she says, looking around my spacious apartment. “Very… you.”

Which means it’s minimalist, monochromatic, and designed for efficiency. Unlike Violet, who has always been a walking burst of color and chaos.

“Rules,” I say, making her turn toward me. “No loud music, no parties, no bringing random people over.”

She raises an eyebrow. “You really know how to make a girl feel welcome.”

“I’m not trying to.”

Her lips twitch like she’s holding back a smile. “Got it, Captain.”

I nod toward the hallway. “Guest room’s the last door on the left. Kitchen rules are on the fridge. I don’t do noise after ten. Don’t leave dishes in the sink. No shoes on the couch.”

She lifts her hands in mock surrender. “Yes, sir.”

My jaw tightens.

Declan owes me more than one favor.

By the time she’s unpacked, it’s dinner time. I usually eat in silence, protein and greens, a routine that keeps me focused. But tonight, Violet’s humming as she digs through my cupboards.

“What are you doing?”

“Making macaroni and cheese,” she says cheerfully. “Want some?”

“I have chicken and rice.”

She wrinkles her nose. “How exciting. Live a little.”

I don’t respond. I’m not here to live a little. I’m here to win.

Still, my stomach betrays me when the scent of butter and melting cheese fills the kitchen.

She slides a bowl over to me.

I eat it.

We don’t talk much, but it’s not entirely uncomfortable. She fills the silence with small chatter—how excited she is to start work tomorrow and how much she missed Maple Creek.

I grunt when appropriate.

When she yawns and says goodnight, I exhale like I’ve been holding my breath all evening. As she disappears into the guest room, I already know this was a mistake.

This is fine. It’s temporary. I can handle Violet Hayes. I have to.

Zero distractions. That’s the rule.

Even when the distraction has a smile that could unravel a man like me. And eyes that see more than I want them to.

This season, I have one job: lead this team to victory. And nothing—not even Violet—is going to pull me off course.

Right?