Chapter 2 Bates
“Bates!” Head Coach Rafferty shouts my name, drawing my attention back to the bench as I skate across the ice for puck drop.
He nods sharply, giving me a look to be on my best behavior—something I’ve struggled with most of my life, especially tonight, when the entire opposing roster is aiming for an invisible target on my back.
The game’s almost over, and getting into a fight at this point wouldn’t serve a real purpose.
While letting some anger out might make me feel a little happier, I don’t want to risk giving the other team a power play that could potentially tie up the game or possibly receiving a game misconduct penalty that would bench me for the entire next game.
I dip my head to him, showing my compliance.
Gripping my stick tighter, I glide forward until I stop before the red dot in our offensive zone.
The other players set up on the ice. A second later, the ref drops the puck, and chaos ensues.
Sweeping my stick back toward my legs, I slap the puck behind me.
Casper Ridley—one of the other leading forwards on the Saint Paul Sinners and one of my best friends—takes possession as the rest of our line skate through the motions, looking for an opening to score.
Cutting around the back of the net, I land just outside the goalie’s crease. One of the opposing defensemen—number ninety-one—shoves me, jabbing his stick into the side of my ribs.
Anger floods my body, my nostrils flaring as I inhale sharply, my ribs burning from his assault.
Don’t kill this guy. Don’t kill this guy.
It takes everything in me not to do just that while Ninety-One spends the remaining forty seconds of this shift doing everything he possibly can to tip me over the edge, and I’m this fucking close to giving him what he wants.
“Bates.” Kol Brighton—the other badass forward on my line and the other psycho in our maniacal friend trio—uses my name as a warning, and I’m starting to wonder if they know any other way.
I’m not a child; you can’t just say my name sternly to get me to obey. It only makes me want to beat Ninety-One into mush even more, out of spite.
“Get that goddamn look out of your eyes, Finny.” Cas uses my nickname–a shorted version of my last name, Finnegan. He smacks the back of my helmet as we hop over the boards into our bench.
“What look?” I chuckle, not doing anything to hide the smirk lifting the corner of my lips.
Cas’s and Kol’s expressions mirror one another as humor and annoyance shift onto their faces.
The three of us have been inseparable since we were kids, playing mini sticks in our basements in middle school. We dominated high school, and every year we played in World Juniors, we won.
Being picked up on the same pro team is nothing short of a miracle—one I’m thankful for every day. These guys are my family, and nothing is ever going to change that. We’re a package deal.
The truth is, we know far too much about one another to ever part ways. Too many secrets. Too many stories. We are stuck with one another for life, but we wouldn’t have it any other way. No one else in the world would tolerate our crazy asses.
“You guys act like I get into a fight every game.” I squeeze my water bottle, holding it a couple of inches from my face. Water streams into my mouth, and I let some drip down my chin and neck, cooling off my burning body while I hydrate.
They look at each other and break into exaggerated laughter.
The last time I even got into a real fight was like … shit … forty-eight hours ago, when we played the Otters.
“Okay. Okay. I get it. But there are only three minutes left, we’re up by one, and we won’t even go back in. I might be a little dumb, but I’m not a fucking idiot. Besides, I don’t need any new shiners before tonight.”
Cas groans, rolling his eyes. “I can’t believe we let you talk us into going to a damn singles party in the middle of January.”
They didn’t have to agree to go. Trust me, you can’t make these boys do anything they don’t want to do. Regardless of their agreement, I planned on being at that party. This is a big night for me—one I’ve been waiting for forever.
The horn sounds through the arena, the clock runs out, and the Sinners emerge from the game as winners. Everyone hops the bench and skates toward our goalie, cheers and shouts echoing around us as we bump helmets with him, one by one.
But even as my teammates surround me with a win and adrenaline pumps through my body, I can’t stop thinking about Serena. It’s finally the night I come face-to-face with my girl—or rather face-to-mask because she can’t know who I am … not quite yet.
Obsession is a word I don’t use lightly, but when I do, it’s with the most burning, overwhelming, and soul-consuming intensity.
Only one thing in this world deserves my unbridled obsession—my coach’s stunning, doe-eyed daughter, Serena Rafferty, who’s mine, even if she doesn’t know it yet. My Little Cupid.
Most of the guys on the team would avoid her at all costs, worried that pursuing her could jeopardize their careers.
Personally, I couldn’t give two shits that I play for her father.
Let him threaten me and my place on this team.
I’d make him trade me to a new one tomorrow, just so I could be with her.
The other guys would follow in a heartbeat if that ever happened.
Professional hockey players don’t get to manage where they go, not typically.
But when you’re as good as we are, you sure as fuck can.
We’re three of the highest-paid forwards in the entire league, and if we put out feelers that we’re looking to move, teams would be begging on their knees with offers.
We could practically go wherever we pleased.
I’m only protecting my identity for Serena’s sake.
She’s close with her dad, and unfortunately, she’s a Goody Two-shoes who takes the unwritten no fraternization rule incredibly seriously.
I learned that firsthand when we met at the team dinner last summer.
The first time I saw her was the moment I decided what our fate would be.
It wasn’t a one-sided connection or conversation.
The way those blue eyes of hers studied me, wandering all over my body like a hungry animal waiting to pounce, stirred a darkness inside me, like sand and muck getting kicked up underwater.
She’s clouded every thought I’ve had since, altering every decision I make.
As much as I tried to urge her to give in to the building tension between us at the dinner, she never broke. It was aggravating, watching her deny herself the inevitable pleasure when it was so clear she wanted it just as badly as I did, all because of her father.
After she rejected me, I backed off and gave her the space she wanted—sort of.
By giving her space, I mean, I’ve secretly infiltrated every aspect of her life, including staking out her house, sleuthing through her socials, installing a few.
..twenty-nine...hidden cameras in her home so I can keep an eye on her when I can’t physically be there, and befriending her dog, Freddie, who now happens to love me.
The night of the dinner, last summer, was the last night we were both single, whether she knew that or not. A tiny part of me felt bad for running off her admirers these past months. Then again, I did warn them away with a shit-eating grin, so I don’t know how terrible I actually felt.
If anything, they should feel lucky; they only got a warning, not their teeth knocked out for being near her. On occasion, I can be a charitable guy.
Eventually, the suitors died out completely, around the same time I started leaving her letters on her front door. I expected a bit of pushback from my advances into her life, but that was before I saw the way she cherished the words I had written to her.
She loves this the same way I do, which came as a surprise from the good girl who wouldn’t dare break a rule.
It’s rather hilarious that the idea of a masked man stalking her does little to raise her hackles, but dating a player on her dad’s team is way past the line.
Before I let her figure out who I am, I’m going to make damn sure she’s already accepted our inevitability. I don’t care if it’s fucked up that I planned on trapping her emotionally before revealing my identity.
Although cornering her in other ways sounds just as fun, like I could tie her up or pin her down. It’s not like the image doesn’t cross my mind countlessly late at night, when I’m buried in the sheets, unable to sleep because my mind can’t stop spinning with thoughts of her.
About how soft her skin is. How supple her tits are. How pretty I imagine that deep red hair of hers will look, wrapped around my knuckles, and the way her body will writhe beneath me with my fingers gripping her bare throat.
Ugh, this girl has cut into my skin and burrowed so deeply when we have yet to truly be together is pitiful. But, fuck, I don’t care.
Everything I have done for us is about to come to fruition, and it will all start at her party tonight.
Less than an hour after leaving the arena, I’m home, showered and dressed in dark jeans and a red T-shirt, waiting impatiently for Casper and Kol to get to my house. We’re riding together to the party.
They’d better show up soon, or I’ll leave without them. I didn’t spend hours hunting down sold-out tickets for tonight to end up arriving late on their account.
My phone buzzes in my pocket as I grab my sneakers and sit down on the massive brown leather sectional to slip them on before retrieving my phone from my pocket.
It’s a new text in my group chat with Kol and Casper, appropriately named Code of Silence.
Casper: Just got Kol. On our way to you
About fucking time.
Kol: Casper’s driving now, but both he and I wanted to tell you to go fuck yourself
That’s rude
Kol: You’re rude
How far out?
Kol: less than five
Make it three
Kol: We’ll make it ten if you keep that up
I roll my eyes and tuck my phone away as I stand up, my stomach in goddamn knots, as if I were a teenage boy about to go on his first date. Shaking my hands, I do my best to calm my racing heart.
If they’re almost here, I need to grab one last thing from my bedroom. Walking on the dark hardwood floor, I admire my dream house, which I moved into about a month ago—one I don’t plan on leaving.
Do I need a five-bedroom, four-bathroom house with a movie theater and ginormous basement, all to myself?
No, but I’m hoping that someone else will be moving in with me soon—a certain five-foot-four redhead with these blue eyes that seem to swirl, almost hypnotically, in a way that drives me so goddamn insane that if I don’t get to watch them roll into the back of her head with pleasure soon, I’m going to lose my mind.
Eventually—ideally sooner than later—she’ll be prancing through my front door with that cute little wiener dog, and they’ll make themselves right at home. I already have a dog bed and toys for whenever that day comes, ready to be the best dog dad to Freddie.
Strolling over to my dresser, I swipe my mask from the top—the custom-made burgundy leather mask with mesh red heart eyes that can illuminate with a button. My thumb strokes the upturned black mesh smile that resembles a crescent moon. This mask is my connection to Serena, a bridge between us.
When I first showed the guys, they freaked out, reeled themselves in, became excited, and, within minutes, they each requested one of their own.
I offered to order them a custom one, but they’re still undecided about what they want theirs to look like. It’ll be fun when we all finally have them.
I meander toward my tall bedroom mirror while slipping my mask on, securing the strap over the back of my head. When I lift my gaze, excitement flits through my shoulders in tingling waves as I realize that I’m actually going to talk to Serena tonight.
After nearly half a year of watching her, wearing every fiber of my patience thin, the night is finally here. I could have started this sooner, but I’ve waited for the perfect moment because she deserves nothing less.
Valentine’s Day is her favorite holiday—something I discovered when I scoured every post on her and her family’s social media as far back as her childhood.
I know her better than she could imagine, especially after stealing that dating questionnaire she filled out from her work.
Which is exactly why I plan on winning her heart before February 14th.
It wasn’t too hard to get into her computer since I have Casper on my team and he’s a tech nerd. It’d been a while since he’d actively used his skills, but when I asked for his help, it fueled the resurgence of his passion. Once we got his bug on her computer, we had access to everything.
Cas and Kol have made this courtship of mine possible. When I couldn’t deliver the notes, these guys helped me hire or find someone to do it. They are almost as deep into this as I am. I’m not surprised by their eagerness. We’ve always had similarly twisted minds.
My phone dings, and I find a text from Kol, telling me they’re waiting outside. My heart thumps viciously in my chest as I’m pulled from my thoughts.
It’s time.