5. Xander

CHAPTER 5

XANDER

R achel and Jett head to the bathroom, so I get the leftovers boxed up and pay the check. I also call a mechanic and arrange a tow for Rachel’s car, assuring the guy I’ll swing by in the morning to settle up.

I’m waiting by the door for them when I get a text.

Coach: Fifteen game suspension. You can accept and be back in a month or proceed with a hearing. Your choice.

Acid rises up my throat as I stare down at the words.

Suspension.

One month.

If I fight the suspension, I could make matters worse for myself. The most sane thing to do is accept the punishment and move on with my life.

Xander: I don’t love it, but I’d rather not drag this thing out

Xander: I’ll be back in the rink in one month. Tell me when and where

Coach: Keep behaving yourself and I’ll let you know

Coach: Stay out of jail. No women. No drugs

Xander: I never do drugs

Coach: Thank God for small favors, huh?

Resisting the temptation to send him the one-finger emoji, I shove my cell into my pocket as Rachel and Jett trot up.

“Ready?” Rachel asks, a soft smile playing on her lips.

“Yeah.”

“Thanks for dinner. It was lovely.” She flutters her long lashes at me and I wish we were alone. Fuck what Coach texted me—I’d love to smash my mouth to hers, kissing and licking and sucking until she’s breathless in my arms and panting for more.

And I’d happily oblige.

“Thanks, Coach.” Jett’s chirpy little voice interrupts my fantasy about his mom.

FML.

More like Fuck the MILF, but that’s a wet dream to unpack later, when I’m alone.

“No problem, bud. Let’s get you home. Your mom’s right—it’s a school night.”

Rachel takes Jett by the hand and the three of us stroll out to the car. I can’t help thinking how different this existence is from my life back in Boston. Normally, I’d be gearing up to go partying with the guys after a game. Drinking and dancing with the puck bunnies of the day.

But this feels better.

Fuck, what’s happening to me? I’ve been in Starlight Bay for twenty-four hours and I’m going soft.

Rachel smiles at me across the console, her face bathed in white moonlight, and every inch of me takes notice. This woman’s stunning and not in a fake puck bunny kind of way. Her beauty’s real, soft and tender, stirring up an almost primal need to protect her or something.

Don’t get in deep here, Kovac. She has a kid. She’s not yours to have.

“This is us.” Her quiet voice jolts me back to reality. I click on my blinker and slide into a spot outside the two-story apartment complex.

Cutting the engine, I start to climb out of the car, but her hand shoots out and grabs my arm.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to get out. Thanks for the ride. And dinner and everything. Do you have Venmo?”

I shake my head.

“Cashapp? PayPal? Or I can bring money to the rink next practice.”

“Rachel—” I cover her small hand with mine. “It’s no big deal. Please don’t pay me back. I needed dinner and I was going this direction anyway.”

She presses her lips together in a thin line, tiny crinkles of worry forming around her eyes.

“Thank you. But I can absolutely pay you back.”

“Please don’t. And I’m walking you to the door.” I squeeze her hand, her pulse racing beneath my fingers. “I insist.”

Not waiting for a response, I hustle around and open the door for her. I lift the pizza box from her lap and she hops out to wrestle with Jett and the booster.

We lug all the gear up the stairs to her apartment.

“Well, this is us.” She grips Jett and shuffles from foot to foot, holding the key.

“Mommy, I have to pee.” Jett tugs on her hand, and her cheeks flush a bright pink. “Lemme in!”

Huffing out a breath, she unlocks the door and Jett flies into the dark apartment. She flips on the lights and he bolts through the living room.

I suck in, surprised at how small the place is. A faded couch takes up most of the room, with a galley-style kitchen in a lovely shade of goldenrod directly behind the living space. There’s a two-person table with chairs crammed into a corner, and I assume the bedrooms are on the other side of the kitchen wall. The place I’m renting from Jackson is at least three times as large and way nicer.

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting any visitors.” She bends down, scooping a pile of Legos off the beige carpet.

“It’s fine. As long as I don’t step on one of those,” I joke, pointing at the colorful rectangles and she chuckles. At least that lightens the tense mood.

“Coast is clear.” She winks over at me and my fingers tingle, desperate to reach out and touch her. Smooth my thumb over the soft skin of her cheek, run my fingers through the long, silky waves of her hair.

Damn. I’m down bad for this woman and I only met her today.

“Coach!” Jett’s voice echoes through the tiny apartment. “Come see my room!”

“Jett! It’s time to get ready for bed. Coach has done enough for us already,” Rachel calls out.

“Please! It’ll only take a second.”

I shrug. “It’s fine, I’ve got time. If it’s okay with you.”

She shakes her head. “That kid, I swear. Don’t feel like you have to.”

“I’ve got it.” I tip my chin at her and head down the hall toward the light.

Jett’s kneeling in the middle of the room, building with his Legos.

“Look, Coach. I made a hockey rink.” He clicks two gray bricks together as I crouch down next to him.

“Wow. That’s really cool. How long did that take you?”

“Only a day or two.”

“Impressive.” I do a quick once-over of his room. Hockey posters line the stark white walls and he has a Boston Blades bedspread, tiny hockey players skating over the white cotton.

“You must love hockey, huh?”

He grins up at me with a gap-toothed smile. “I do. I want to be a hockey player when I grow up. Just like you.”

My chest squeezes tight at his youthful innocence, enthusiasm shining in his bright blue eyes.

“Work hard and you’ll get there. You skate really well.”

“Thanks!” He bounces on his knees, smiling even wider.

A loud pounding noise comes from the living room, followed by the creak of the front door.

“What’s going on, Rachel! I’ve been trying to get in touch with you all night,” an angry, deep voice booms.

“You can’t just barge in, Charles!” Rachel matches his volume. “And you have not. I had one text from you, hours ago.”

“Where’s Jett?” The voice gets closer and I stand, inching away from Jett.

“In his room. What are you doing here, anyway?”

“You’d know if you picked up your damn phone.”

A man in a suit freezes in the doorway of Jett’s room.

“Who the hell are you?” He frowns at me, and my fists instantly ball.

“Xander Kovac. And you are?”

“Charles Allen. Jett’s dad.”