Till Sudden Death Do Us Part (Granite Ice Hockey #4)

Chapter 1 Elijah Jonas

one

Elijah Jonas

“What do you think?” I inhale the rich leather aroma as the engine purrs like the sweetest dream.

I spent all the money I got as high school graduation gifts to make a down payment on this Ford Mustang.

The rest I will pay for by making payments from wages I earn washing dishes at Red Barn.

It's not a glamorous job, but it's all I could find, and all the over-time hours I work got me this car.

Brand-new.

Midnight black.

Top down.

So much muscle.

Twelve whopping miles on it when I drove it off the lot.

I can’t stop inhaling deep, delicious breaths of authentic new-car air. As soon as I hit the interstate out of Mapleton, I press the accelerator down. There’s only one place on my mind—the beach house, where we can officially get this summer started.

“It’s totally you.” Koren is smiling ear to ear. I don’t miss that her hand is gripping the door handle. She doesn’t share my love of speed, but she’s always a good sport. “Congratulations, you finally got your dream car.”

“Thanks.” It feels good. I’ve spent the last several months in a bit of a depressive haze as all the guys on my high school hockey team got scooped up by colleges or other opportunities. I was one of the few without any options.

I don’t want to go to college unless it’s to play hockey.

My dad thinks I should join the family farm business, like he did with his father.

He’s beyond wealthy—running an operation that spans three states—but that’s certainly not my dream.

He hasn’t stopped expressing disappointment in my life choices since I finally admitted I wouldn’t be following in his footsteps.

Seeing the once-proud gleam in his eyes dim whenever he looks at me has been devastating.

Something had to give to pull me out of my funk.

I found that something on a car lot.

Well, there’s another something. My best friend by my side.

Instinctively, I swallow down my mental stumble on the words best friend.

It’s not the whole truth. Koren is my best friend who I’m in love with.

Hopefully, I’ll be able to tell her that soon.

It hasn’t been for lack of trying. All through high school, we were like ships in the night—every time one of us was single, the other one was in a relationship.

Until now.

Her not-so-serious boyfriend broke up with her when he headed to the army. Lucky for me, I’m staying in Mapleton.

It has to work out for us this time.

I’m so tired of muting my feelings.

I glance over, stealing a look at her. Her dark hair is tied back in one of those long bubble braids she wears, a few little flyaways fluttering in the breeze. When she catches me looking at her, she locks eyes with me, her cerulean gaze swirling sparkles back at me.

Like I matter to her.

Like maybe nothing or no one else exists but us.

Every time she looks at me like that, a crack opens in my chest. I can’t breathe. I wish she knew how much I care about her. I’m so tired of fighting these feelings. I just need to get over the fear and say something—because then our life together can begin …

“Koren—,” I start, then stop, as I’ve done a thousand times before.

Maybe it’s too heavy of a question for a random Wednesday.

Adrenaline is still surging in my system from the high of buying this car.

Maybe that’s what’s given me the sudden burst of bravery.

I decide to lean into it. “Do you ever think about—”

“I heard from an internship program,” she says at the same time, then pauses, yielding to me. She lets out a little chuckle. “You go first.”

“No.” I squeeze the steering wheel, forcing my lips into a neutral expression. When I finally say what I need to say, I don’t want her distracted because she has something else on her mind. “Please, you go first. I want to hear what you were saying. What happened with your program?”

“So it’s sort of weird, but a floral design program in France reached out to me, asking me to apply.”

“That’s interesting.” I nod. “It sounds like something you’d love though. Have you thought about going for it?”

“I have, actually.” Her smirk is ambiguous. “I downloaded the application, but I need to get a portfolio together. It’s due at the end of the month if I want to get into the next class. It’s also insanely expensive—”

Errrrt!

A sharp crack of impact slams us forward.

Koren screams, her hand flying in front of her face.

The airbags explode, releasing a white cloud of powder into the car.

My eyes squeeze shut out of instinct. As soon as I realize that, I force them open and slam my attention back to the road.

Unsure of where my car is on the road, I slam on the brakes.

Blinking hard as more adrenaline pumps through my veins, I manage to steer onto the shoulder, out of the path of oncoming traffic.

“Are you okay?” I turn toward Koren, placing a hand on her leg. The heat from her thigh radiates up my arm, nearly immobilizing me. If not for the adrenaline firing through me, I might have frozen completely.

“I’m fine.” Her breath comes in little, choppy puffs. She tosses a look over her shoulder to check on the other car. When I see her neck move in that manner, I release a shaky breath of relief. She’s probably okay.

It hits me.

I just wrecked a brand-new car I’ve owned for less than fifteen minutes. You’ve got to be kidding me.

My dad is going to kill me. He’s going to be so irate, I honestly can’t think about it or I’ll be sick.

Waves of tension radiate up my spine as I focus on Koren again. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.” Her wide eyes dart another glance behind us. “Just startled, but we should check on that car.”

“Good idea. Why don’t you stay here, and I’ll go exchange information with him?

” Heart hammering in my throat, I open my door and slide out, turning my focus to the car behind me.

The newer silver SUV is pulled over on the shoulder too, parked right behind me.

It’s smoking slightly from the front end.

I take a few wobbling steps toward it, trying to catch my breath, just as the driver’s door opens. Out steps an older man. Granite Ice sweatshirt. Aviators. Rich-man salt-and-pepper hair. His mouth is already moving.

“Is anyone hurt?” he calls out, glancing around as if expecting reporters to leap from the bushes.

“No,” I say tightly, letting out another sigh when I add, “Just the car. Did you not see me?”

“Well, yes. No. I knew you were there, but I took two seconds to look at my text messages. I—” He cuts himself off as he walks around the side of my car, looking it over. “I’m sorry. We’ll get your car fixed. Quietly.”

I pause, pondering how odd it is to say the word quietly in that sentence.

I’m about to pull out my phone to call the cops, but he turns back to me and says, “So, here’s the deal.

Let’s just handle this without the police.

I will pay for everything. If you need to go to the clinic to get checked out, I’ll pay for that too, but we need to be a little quiet about this. ”

“Are you drunk?” I blurt out. That’s the only reason I know not to call the cops.

Checking over his shoulder as a car passes in the left lane, he waits, then says, “No, I haven’t been drinking. I just have a few too many speeding tickets.”

Confusion buds at the front of my brain. If he’s sober, why wouldn’t we call the police? It’s going to cost a fortune to fix these new cars out of pocket. Even if he loses his license, it won’t be forever. Who has tens of thousands of dollars just lying around?

Wait a second …

I check the logo on his shirt again—Granite Ice.

He’s way too old to play hockey. Likely too old to coach.

There’s someone else associated with our local hockey team who is old and very, very rich—a local billionaire, in fact.

I step closer, sizing him up. “Wait. I know you. You’re Bill Baker, the owner of Granite Ice, right? ”

He stiffens, glancing back toward the road to check traffic before returning his gaze to me. He clears his throat and says quietly, “Can we just keep everything between us?”

Of course! I nearly smack the side of my head. The secrecy makes sense now. Rich guy with too much to lose in bad press. Bill Baker is pretty much famous for always being up to something. Bad PR is practically his middle name.

“Sorry, sir,” I say quickly, blinking in disbelief, still trying to connect the dots.

“I’m a big fan of your team.” I jab my hand through my hair and look toward the road.

Just a few miles up is the arena where they play.

It makes so much sense now why he’s here.

Never did I think I’d meet Bill Baker, especially not like this.

“Fan?” He smirks, like I’ve plucked the perfect spot on his ego. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Elijah.”

“Elijah,” he repeats, eyes narrowing as he sizes me up. My face heats under his scrutiny. “Jonas?”

“Yeah.” My voice is small. It’s super creepy he knows my last name.

“I know you too.” He wags his finger at me. “You aren’t just a fan. You were a senior forward at Mapleton High School. I read about you all the time in the newspaper. You were always lighting up the ice. I never did hear what college you signed with.”

Dropping my eyes to the ground, I fight the urge to pretend I don’t care—because it still stings that I got passed over for college scholarships.

“Ah, none.” I struggle to keep my voice from cracking.

I don’t understand it. I played hard my entire career, but when it came to college recruitment, I was invisible.

“What do you mean, none?” He’s quick to reply, quicker to question “You quit the game?”

I purse my lips to the side, neither confirming nor denying. It’s a sore spot. I hate talking about it. “Yeah, I didn’t get recruited, so I didn’t really quit. I guess hockey quit me.”

He gives me a sharp look. “Do you still want to play?”

I blow out a breath and turn my attention back to my car, where Koren waits patiently in the passenger seat.

I don’t need to tell this guy my life story.

I need to call the cops and get this over with.

“Look, I’ve got things to do, and my friend is in the car.

I’d feel better if someone took a look at us both.

” I pull out my phone and start dialing. “I’m just going to call—”

He puts his hand over mine, stopping me. Now he’s staring at me, nostrils flaring. A cold chill springs in my gut, giving me whole-body shivers.

“Dude, why are you looking at me with demonic intent?” I jerk my phone back and step away.

“That’s not demonic,” he says hastily, a chuckle slipping through his lips. “I sometimes get a bit of a lazy eye, and slamming my head back on the headrest when I hit your car just triggered it.”

Tilting my head, I study him. He’s classically unhinged. The sooner I get away, the better. I slide my foot back, putting my phone to my ear. “Look bro, I’m going to wait in the car until the cops get here. Don’t try to go anywhere because I already got your name.”

“Tell you what.” He lunges forward, stepping between me and my car. Now I spike an alarmed eyebrow. “I’ll make you a deal. You get a walk-on spot on my team next season if you don’t make that call.”

My head jolts back. More goosebumps spiral up my spine as his lazy eye—or whatever it is—zeroes in on me like a beam. “What did you just say?”

“I said, I don’t want the cops involved. You get a spot in my roster, but nobody finds out about this.” He’s speaking slower now, as if he knows he’s hit my let’s-make-a-deal nerve.

I narrow my eyes. “You already have your roster.”

He stares at me expressionlessly, sending another spiral of goosebumps up my spine. I’ve heard of Bill Baker so many times. He’s not a guy people want to get tangled up with. But the dude owns a hockey team right here in Mapleton. It’s my dream to play.

A knot swells in my throat. Nothing about this feels like a good idea … but I love hockey. It’s been my entire personality since I was four years old. The hurt and the depression I’ve been living through these last few months, facing the loss of that dream, have almost driven me off the edge.

Swallowing down the knot, I squeak, “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you backed into a pole. You take that car to any body shop you want and pay with the cash that I give you. You sign with us and start next season.”

I clamp my teeth on my bottom lip, trying to stop my mouth from hanging open. This can’t be for real. He sure doesn’t want to get the cops involved. Pressure fills my head, making it hard for me to think straight. At that moment, I visualize myself in the starting lineup next year …

The announcer calls my name.

I skate out on the ice, and the crowd goes wild. Just like in all my dreams.

I scan the audience. There’s Koren, beaming back at me.

She sure looks gorgeous in Granite Ice blue …

and wait, she’s wearing my name on her jersey.

My heart inflates so big, it’s about to explode.

My parents are next to her, smiling. Proud.

They’re never proud lately. All I am to them is a giant disappointment with no future.

I could make them proud again.

I could impress Koren.

We could finally be together.

My gaze floats to the side. Before I can stop myself, I give the kind of slow nod I’ve only seen in movies. “Deal.”

Bill looks at me again, with his lazy eye narrowing to a slit like some sort of omen. Suddenly my throat goes dry. I swallow right as he slides his hand forward, offering me a handshake.

“Deal.”