Chapter 4

MAX

The shrill sound of whistle cut through the air as the puck flew past, and the line change up chaos that happened every few plays or so as the starting line, Holken and Sunders sped toward the opposing sides goal. Hale stayed alert. The tall Canadian who looked like a cross between hipster and hulking, what the fuck did Jules call it in her romance novels?

Fucking lumbersnack.

And the player Sophia glanced at with that fucking coy smile on her face as she and the Rev Hype Team skated by as they left the ice pre-game. She rarely ever hit the ice with the rest of the Hype Team, but one of the girls twisted her ankle and couldn't get out and ‘rev' up the crowd before the lights went out.

She ignored me, but fuck if I didn't know exactly where she looked and why she added that damn swing to her hips as she sauntered away.

"Fucking Hale is fire tonight," Trevor Wilson, my assistant coach and former head coach of the championship AHL team in Cleveland, said in my ear over the crowd.

As much as it irked me to think or say it, he hit the nail on the head. Shutout against one of the toughest offensively stacked teams in the NHL was no easy feat. Then again, the rest of his defensive line were making sure he kept the black hole for the final 2 minutes of the game, too.

Holken? On a fucking mission to get his damn hat trick. I ignored that I overheard the details of what he and my baby sister probably did when he got one.

Fucking double edged sword. When Kas scored a HT in a game, the win was pretty much guaranteed. And heading into the postseason, the more w's the better.

But, the other side? The shit he did with my baby sister after the game?

I didn't fucking need to know.

The last few minutes of the game always made me tense, even more so now when all I could do was stand behind my guys and pray to fucking God they kept their heads on straight and remembered all the shit we ran. And trusted their instincts.

Now I knew why my coach at the Pens always had a shit ton of Tums behind the bench.

And how I needed a glass of bourbon afterwards.

Seconds ticked down as the opposing team pulled their goalie, hoping the extra man on the ice would help them get a closer score. Up by two wasn't the best cushion, but if they could tie and get a point in the standings it might mean one step closer to clinching a playoff spot as the season winded down.

The upper levels at the Revenge knew a expansion team had a slim chance to make the cut, but the momentum the guys found early in the season showed no sign of slowing down. Which also meant maybe, just maybe, I didn't fucking suck at my job.

One I had no fucking clue how I landed, to be honest. But, damn it felt good to be here. I'd do just about anything to stay. Hell, I'd even ‘made up' with my former rival, though the tension still hit Holken and I when we were off the ice. Like when I caught him making those fucking faces at my baby sister.

I tried to remind myself how happy Jules looked, and that Sophia would cut my balls off if I didn't turn around my attitude concerning the two of them being together.

Speak of the damn little devil. Across the arena, directly in my line of sight when I glanced to the side, Sophia stood off to the side of the penalty box. Arms crossed. Her perfectly bow-shaped mouth in a small smile as she watched fucking Hale in front of the net.

The same fucking lips that had been wrapped around my cock so perfectly. I let out a low growl just as the buzzer sounded, ending the game. She glanced over at me, smile still in place. Brows raised, as if to say, caught you looking.

Fuck.

BUZZZZZZZZZ.

"Nice game, Coach."

I barely registered Trevor's words as I watched the guys congratulate Hale on his shut out. When the line ended with Kas, as team captain, going helmet to helmet, then Hale skating behind him, the fucker waved at Sophia. I slammed down my water bottle, water spurted out of the top.

"Uh, you ok, Coach?" Saint Wander asks. The rookie got called up from the Revenge's AHL team only three days ago, and damn, he's probably the most talented winger I've seen in a damn while. Still not ready for the A Line, but still. Talented as fuck.

But hell, did he have to be so young? And nice? I quelled the urge to snap at the poor kid over how pissed Sophia's interaction with Hale got under my skin.

"Better than fine, Wander. Let's go celebrate, winger."

As I patted him on the back, I caught the object of every damn fantasy and crazy infuriating moment since the one night I made her mine looking at me with a strange light in her eyes before she turned away. The rest of the team made their way down the hall leading to the locker room, but I couldn't get the picture of Hale smiling at the girl who should've been mine.

Even as she made it clear she had no interest whatsoever. I hadn't made it easy, either. The way she crawled under my skin pissed me off, and almost caught me at my job more than once.

I congratulated the staff as we made our way down the hall, and stopped to check in with a few fans who joined us for the game with the Revenge's foundation. One family had just lost their dad a few months ago in a training exercise. Or at least, that's what the Corp usually used when the details couldn't be shared.

A thing Jules and I knew about from personal experience.

As soon as I walked away, though, she popped into my head. I swore I could smell her, the sweet scent of her skin. Like a fucking drink or a damn coconut.

Fucking Sunrise. Her scent hit me before she even opened her lush lips the first time we met. She smelled like the damn sunrise on a summer morning. The kind of thing you wanted to wake up to, and never leave bed. Just hold her. Breath in her skin, taste her.

A fucking sunrise in the body of a girl who drove me up the wall like no one else. Who made me crave more of her, even if she said what we had was a one-time thing.

Shit.

One night of incredible sex and a stolen kiss in a darkened hallway were one thing, but the way she either ignored me or read me the riot act spun me around like no one else ever had?

Sophia LeCavalier drove me up a wall. Reading her damn journal every fucking night made me feel like a Grade A stalker.

"Did you just growl?" Kas asked, falling into step beside me.

"I can't reply in any way that won't get me in trouble with the front office, Holken," I replied.

He smirked, rubbing the edge of his stick along his helmet. "Yep. Growl. I heard it. Guess I should be glad it wasn't directed at me, or that would mean you lied to Jules."

We rounded the corner, and just as we made it to the locker room, Hale came out with a big grin on his face.

"Hey, Coach," he threw a nod our way then landed a punch on Holken's shoulder with a grin. "Hat trick? Nice. Extra Lucky Charms, Holken?"

Kas shook his head as he jerked his head at me, but grinned like the ass he was.

Fuck. The whole damn team knew about Kas and Jules and their damn hat trick bullshit. "Shut the fuck up, Hale."

"Woah, Coach, sorry. I forgot about the whole sister-dating-Kas thing for a sec." He waved to someone down the hall.

That's when I noticed he was already dressed, and showered? How the hell did the guy change and shower before I made it down the damn hall?

"Got a hot date, Hale?"

"In a way," he answered with a grin. Fucking lumberjack looking asshole.

No. Fucking. Way.

"It'll have to wait. Shut out. Press room, Hale," I steered him in the opposite direction, ignoring his protests. Away from what was mine.

Not far down the hall, where Hale had been headed before I decided his shut out warranted a little media attention, Sophia shot me a glare of death before smirking, and rubbing her middle finger under eye, like she was wiping away makeup.

Which only reminded me how fucking glorious she looked with tears trailing down her cheeks, makeup a mess, as she sucked my cock.

If I couldn't have her, no one could.

A horn sounded behind me, shattering the image of Sophia smiling at Hale two nights ago at the end of the game. Probably a good thing, because the image of laying him out like I used to when my skates weren't hung up began to form in my head.

But fuck if I would ever mess with a goalie. Especially after the shit with Kas went down. Blaming him for a situation I didn't take a good look at. I never watched the replays of the incident because I was so sure I had been right.

Until Sophia called me out on it a few months ago, right after I found out my ex-rival was dating and doing God knows what else to my little sister behind my back.

Fuck, that girl and the way she laid me out flat. Without even batting an eyelash.

No, woman. Younger than me, yes. But all woman. Every curve, every look. Her damn smile that brought grown men to their knees.

I almost lost my cool at the Christmas party when I noticed how the guys were checking her out. So, hell yes I hid the damn mistletoe. Fuck, I would have locked her up in my bedroom that night if I didn't think she'd cut off a pretty important body part for doing it.

When I pulled into my spot for practice and grabbed my gear out the back, the laughter that haunted my midnights and even a few daydreams shot straight to my cock.

Followed by a low rumble of fucking masculine whatever the hell you called a guy's laugh. I turned, only to spot Hale taking Sophia's bag from her and slinging it over his shoulder as she pulled it out of her car. She shook her head, hair swaying in the high ponytail she wore but he just grinned back at her as they made their way toward the entrance to the training facility.

They were talking heads bent towards each other the way people do when they're having an intimate conversation. But that didn't stop me from overhearing bits and parts of their conversation.

Dinner. Date. After practice. Yes.

I growled, and she must've heard, because Sophia glanced over her shoulder, eyes wide. When she locked eye contact with me, her lips did that damn pouty thing again. The one making my cock remember all the dirty things we did. And how loud I made her scream when she came. How eager she was, never once backing down as she let me be the man she made me want to be when she looked up at me with her eyes full of trust and everything a man wanted to see when a woman desired him.

Fuck. Now I was waxing fucking poetic in the middle of the goddamn parking lot like some lovestruck teenager crossed with a crazed Neanderthal. Trapped in some old school CW moment, watching the girl I wanted walk away with the lumberjack goalie.

Sophia wrinkled her brow, stumbling for a moment before Hale reached out to steady her. The trance broken, she smiled at him while I thought of all the ways I could torture him at the morning skate. Normally goalies don't have practice everyday with the rest of the team, but today was scrimmage day, and I think Hale needed to be reminded of a few things.

Like how Sophia had been mine long before she even looked his way.

The thought stopped me dead in my tracks.

No one but the girl I couldn't fucking stop thinking about and my damn fantasies knew about that night. Or the kiss a few days ago.

But that didn't mean I couldn't work a little bit of frustration out by running drills before the scrimmage just to make sure my net minders were sharp.

The whoosh of air conditioning hit me as the door slid closed behind me like a slap in the face. As if the damn building knew my attitude and forthcoming actions were a bad idea even if I didn't care.

"Coach!"

Frederickson jogged down the opposite hall toward me before matching my stride as I made my way toward my office. "You've got my attention, Alaric." The guy looked like his lunch had other plans for the day. A total 180 of his usual ready to tackle the world attitude. I halted. "Spill."

He left out a huff of air, hands in the pockets of the Revenge hoodie the coaching staff usually wore during practice. "Sunders pulled something at the last game. Didn't tell anyone, because it looks like it aggravated an old injury."

Fuck. I dropped my head. Fucking wingers. Always trying to play the hero. Like the rest of the team would crumble without them. "How bad?"

"Six weeks, maybe four if he sticks to the program."

The air hung heavy, because as much of a pain in the ass as Sunders was, he and Holken had chemistry that was off the charts. And that line was the difference between two points and one in the standings.

Which could mean a shorter season than everyone wanted, when it came down the line. At the end of the regular season, a point could mean the difference between getting ready for the playoffs or packing to home.

"Blake isn't ready to step up to Kas' line. His stick handling-"

"Agreed." I sighed, scrubbing my hand over my jaw. Fuck. With a wave of my hand, I motioned for him to follow. As we made our way down the hall to my office, I nodded at each staff member as we passed. Most of the people brought in by the new owners had made names for themselves, either with other hockey franchises or sports teams. A few, however, were new to the puck game.

"Jensen sent over the scouting report. There are two candidates with the AHL team." He hesitated as I went over to the window. Sophia's car glared back at me, as if it was daring me to step in and man up. If only it was that fucking easy. "Chernov has more experience, but…"

The sunlight glinted off the windshield like it was giving me the middle finger. "But?"

"The rookie, Oliver Sutton? He's good. More than good. Alexander's daughter sent her recommendation alongside Jensen's."

"Corey?" I turned away from her damn car. Corey had joined the Revenge as part of the scouting team, mostly due to the years she spent playing in college and a season on the national team before she retired. Having never seen her play, I only knew her by her reputation. And on the ice, it was a damn good one. Off, she translated her love of the game into a position with the team after she divorced. Being married to a coach was just as hard, if not harder, than being a wife. Relationships didn't always survive.

From the first time we met, Corey made it clear she wanted to earn her place with the team, and as a member of the coaching and scouting staff as liaison, she proved time and time again how well she knew her stuff. And her love of the game.

He nodded to the tablet sitting on my desk, and I motioned for him to sit as I scrolled through. The older, more experienced player looked great on paper, but the notes about this adaptability on the ice had me worried. And fuck if I'd be worried about calling up a player who couldn't adapt quickly. "Why did she like the kid?"

Yep, I could read the damn thing myself, and would, once my head removed itself from my ass over seeing Hale and Sophia fucking giggling with each other.

"She said he has a spark she has seen since that other kid got drafted. Except he's delivering it while carrying his line. He grabbed the tablet from me, and opened a file. "Watch the reel."

Less than a minute later, I signed off on the call. Looks like the rookie was getting his chance at the big show.

Time would tell if he lived up to his potential, or if the pressure of the big show would crush him like it did so many talented players.

Until he hit the ice in the next few days, it didn't matter. Right now, I had a practice to take my frustration out on.

And the goalie wouldn't know what hit him, or that he wouldn't be going on that ‘date' later.

Alaric and I headed down to the ice, but not before I caught a glimpse of metal and a shiny familiar dragonfly keychain haphazardly sitting atop the half wall near the fancy coffee setup Jules somehow wrangled out of management.

My eyes narrowed. Sophia's words came back to me from the day she told me I was done cockblocking Jules.

Cockblocker, indeed.