Chapter 8
Four Months Later
I sat on the wooden bench of the locker room with my headphones in my ears, attempting to drown out the excitement from my teammates.
It was the season’s first game, and I couldn’t lock in because I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
I stared at my phone screen, and my heart sank a little as I flicked through the latest episode of The Porter Report , staring at Faye.
It had been four months since I dragged myself away from her hotel room.
I had been reduced to watching her beautiful face light up on the screen.
It wasn’t like I hadn’t tried to reach out.
I had. She just wasn’t fucking with me. Shit, Lafayette acted like I didn’t even exist. I hired a private investigator and got her address to send her roses.
She sent them motherfuckers back. I sent messages, but she blocked me.
Hell, she even canceled my appearance on her podcast.
A deep sigh escaped my lips, and I pinched the bridge of my nose. I needed to get my head in the game, but I couldn’t focus, not with her smiling and giggling through this interview with Braelon Jackson.
“Aye, Jax, you good?” Le’Andre asked from the other side of the locker room.
“Yeah. Just… trying to get in the zone,” I muttered.
I was glued to the screen. The way she smiled at the camera had me flashing back to the night we’d spent together. I spent less than twenty-four hours with the girl, but I just couldn’t shake that connection we had.
“He’s good,” Liam spat. “His simping ass just pining over that damn reporter again.”
Liam slid next to me and nudged my shoulder.
“You need to move on, nigga. The pussy couldn’t have been that damn good.”
I shot him a glare. I felt heat rising in my chest. The pussy is that good. Shit, I thought about that tight, spitting motherfucker daily.
“It’ll be best if you minded yo’ motherfucking business,” I said, standing up from the bench.
“Shit, I guess the pussy is that good.” He stood and tried to walk away. “Now I’m mad I ain’t get to sample it.”
That was it. He was pressed up against the locker without a second thought.
“I owe yo’ bitch ass so many ass whuppings. You trying to cash in on the first one?” I snapped, eyeing him down.
The tension had been high between Liam and me since we’d returned from L.A. I didn’t fuck with him before, but I really didn’t fuck with him since he’d opened his big ass mouth in front of Faye.
“What? You gon’ whup my ass over a fat ho?—”
He didn’t finish his sentence before my fist was against his face. Blood sprayed from Liam’s mouth along with a few of his teeth. I reached back, connecting another punch and another until I felt one of my teammates pull me back.
“Aye, Jax. Chill!” Le’Andre shouted, pulling me off Liam.
“Over a bitch, bro?”
Liam charged me, swinging wildly. I pulled away from Le’Andre because this ass kicking was long overdue. Landing another blow to Liam’s jaw, I shoved him to the ground.
“Alright, enough. This is a locker room dammit!” Coach Sullivan’s voice rang out as my feet were about to come down on Liam’s head. My eyes narrowed in the coach’s direction. “Cut the shit! I’m warning both of y’all asses now!”
“Got it, Coach,” I mumbled, standing upright. Anger was still running through my veins. “Keep Faye’s name out yo’ motherfucking mouth!” I barked as I attempted to move to another area in the locker room, but coach grabbed me, pulling me to the side.
“Jax? What the hell?” He threw his hands up in the air. “You’re supposed to kick the opposing teams’ ass.”
“He started fucking with me first, Coach. I’m sorry.”
“I bet he did.” Coach shook his head. “I’m not going to report that because I’m sure his ass deserved it. Besides, it’s Johnson’s last game as a Penguin anyway.”
My head swiveled. “What?”
“He’s getting dropped. He’s too much of a liability with all his bullshit.”
Damn. I ran my hands through my hair, taking in what the coach had just said. Liam was getting fired. Good. His bitch ass should have been fired years ago.
“Take a minute, Saint. Get your head back in the game.”
Coach patted me on the back before walking away. I nodded, pushing my phone into my pocket.
“Get your head back in the game.” I left the locker room and headed for the elevator. I knew exactly where to go if I needed to get my head in the game. Taking the elevator, I headed up to my family suite. The elevator doors slid open with a ding, and I stepped inside.
“Hey, sweetheart. You okay? What are you doing up here? Why aren’t you in warm-ups?” she questioned with a look of concern on her chocolate face.
“My head’s not in it, Mom,” I admitted, making my parents move in my direction.
“I can’t stop thinking about Faye. I just whupped Liam’s ass, and everything seems to be moving too fast and not fast enough at the same time.”
Shit, that was a lot to get off my chest. I looked at my parents, who were staring at me.
Both had looks of concern and amusement on their faces.
They thought it was so funny that I was sick over Faye.
I almost regretted telling them about our encounter, but I had to tell somebody.
Hell, I thought they would be able to give some sound advice, but all they had to offer was “give her time.”
“Listen, baby,” my mom began in a comforting tone. “Focus on tonight. This is your dream, and you owe it to yourself to be present.”
I nodded, taking in her words like medicine.
“I know you miss Lafayette, and I know that damn Liam deserved that ass whupping, but don’t let those distractions take you away from what you’ve earned. You earned this. Do you understand?”
I looked into her eyes, finding a calm only my mom could help me find.
“Your mom’s right.” My pops cosigned. “Just remember why you started. Remember what you’ve earned, and play for the girl.”
My parents’ words settled over me like a warm blanket. “Remember what you’ve earned” played on repeat in my head.
“You’ve got this,” they both said in unison.
I took a deep breath, finally feeling the weight lift from my shoulders.
My mom was right. I had earned this. Every time I stepped on the ice, it was because I had worked hard, sacrificed, and fought.
As the sound of the crowd filtered through the walls, something became evident to me.
If I wanted Lafayette Porter, I would have to earn her.
I wrapped my arms around my mom and dad, feeling their support consume me.
“Thanks, parents. I needed that.”
“A parent’s job is never done!” my mom joked, kissing me on the forehead.
Pulling away, I felt lighter and ready to play some hockey.
“I better get on the ice, huh?” I said, walking backward to the elevator.
“You better. I got a lot riding on this, boy,” my dad called out, pulling my mom into his arms while she giggled and swatted him away.
“Y’all bet on me?” I smirked. “Let me find out y’all using my game stats for hanky panky time,” I joked.
“Mind your business, son,” my dad joked.
I headed back down the elevator, shaking my head. I entered the locker room ready to go. The sounds of clattering gear and excited chatter filled the air.
A few teammates greeted me as I entered.
“You good?” Coach asked.
“Yeah, let’s play hockey.”
I walked over to the bench and slipped into my skates, tightening the laces with new focus. I was ready to play with no distractions.
“Let’s go, boys!” Coach’s voice boomed in the center of the room.
I stood and gathered with the rest of my teammates in the middle of the room for the pre-game huddle.
“This is where this season’s story begins. Whether it ends with us holding the Stanley Cup, well, that’s up to you and what you do in between time. Let’s hit that ice hard! One team, one goal!”
“The Stanley Cup!” we all shouted, and the energy in the room was at a hundred.
For a moment, my mind cleared of everything but the game. I shouted my war cry, slapping my teammates on the back as we pumped each other up toward the ice.
“Please welcome your Richmond Penguins!” the announcer shouted, and the arena erupted in screams and cheers. As we stepped onto the ice, the roar of the crowd consumed me, drowning out all other thoughts. I was ready.
The puck dropped, and I was immediately swept into the game, watching the puck.
Nothing mattered except the ice beneath my skates and stopping the other team from scoring.
I looked up, catching a glimpse of the crowd as I moved back in front of the net.
Lafayette? I rubbed my hand across my face and damn near slipped at the sight of the woman who had been on constant repeat in my brain.
I didn’t know what she was doing here, but it was time to earn her.