Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

MADDOX

THE FIRST WEEK OF SCHOOL

‘ F uck off ' was my favorite expression. One I used without hesitation. I didn't just say it to other people. Sometimes I aimed those words right back at myself. No matter how many times I'd repeated that I was strong enough, I never fully believed it. Self-doubt is a cagey bastard that keeps slithering back, even when you think you've kicked his ass to the curb.

At twenty, my life until this point could best be described as a shitshow. Part of it good, but the rest unquestionably bad. I was always on alert. On edge. Waiting for the next blow to knock me down. I was used to facing things head on and bracing myself for impact.

It's probably why I chose to be a goalie. It was always me against everyone else.

Eight months ago, at the urging of my former hockey coach, Daniel Toth, I'd applied to Sutton University. Three of the top goalies in the professional league had played there. Guarding the net was all I wanted, so I went for it. And with Sutton's acceptance came a new start. I packed up my shit and found myself alone, as usual, but in a different country.

Going from Canada's largest city to a small town in the Green Mountains of Vermont was the biggest shock of all. I was used to the chaos and anonymity of Toronto. I didn't court attention. But sometimes I got it, whether I wanted it or not. Why? I was a surly asshole on the best of days. A loner and an introvert. And I planned on staying that way. College or not.

Case in point, today was the first official hockey practice with my new team, the Cougars.

While everyone was gathered at center ice, getting to know each other, I was in my net. My safety zone. I wasn't in the mood to talk to any of these guys. Nothing personal, it's just me.

I was grumpy as fuck after days of dealing with incoming paperwork and getting settled into my dorm. At least they'd accommodated my special request for a room to myself. There's no way I'd handle living with a roommate because only one of us would survive.

I was used to living in a house, or, rather, a basement apartment. By myself. The only people I interacted with were Daniel, who owned said house, occasionally his wife, and their kid. I'd been living with his family since I was sixteen, after I'd left a bad situation.

But I had hockey. I didn't need anything else.

Still, a new school, living quarters, classmates; it was a lot for me to take in. To say I was on edge was putting it mildly. There was a crap ton of students and being in close quarters with so many strangers—overly friendly ones, at that—had my hackles up.

So did the guy now skating toward me, wearing number ten.

He was the biggest defenseman I'd ever seen, never mind played with. The six-foot-five behemoth glided down the ice, talking with every player, and all with an over-the-top grin on his face that made me gag. He looked like he ate, slept, and shit literal sunshine. And I was a thunder and lightning kind of guy.

"I'm Kayden Melnyk," he announced when he skated up to me. He pulled off his glove, reaching his bare hand out. Just like his face, it was covered in golden freckles. "Welcome to the Cougars."

"Fuck off," I muttered, my voice muffled by my mask.

"Excuse me?" he asked, looming, his hazel eyes bearing down on me.

Despite his ginormous stature—I was six-one—I wasn't intimidated by him. Not by his size or that neon smile of his that was making me more irritable by the second.

"Look, it's simple," I snapped, pushing my mask up.

When Melnyk saw my expression, he took a step back. Score one point for me.

"I don't like people," I continued. "I don't care how you're doing, how much you love hockey, this college, or this team. And I don't want to be your fucking friend, got it? You have your job out here and I have mine. Now let's get on with the goddamn game."

Then I slammed my mask back down. End of discussion.

The only thing more satisfying than telling someone off was watching them walk away. Once that happened, they rarely came back. If they did, my lethal mouth ensured they didn't try again.

Melnyk—Kayden—took off down the ice and my nerves eased.

I didn't need friends; hockey teammates or otherwise. No thanks. I trusted two people in my life—Daniel and my therapist. That was it. Oh, and the guy who did my tattoos and piercing. Other than that, I didn't want to be engaged in any kind of conversation or, even worse, any attempt to be touched. Unless it was a tattoo needle. Pain I could handle. I understood. Anything else was foreign to me.

I skated in front of my net, side to side, tapping the bar while I hummed a favorite song. Getting my head prepped. It didn't matter if it was a practice game or a nail-biting season closer, my ritual was always the same. And I wasn't the odd person out. Every hockey player has their thing before, during, and after, a game. If no one interrupted my vibe, I didn't care what they did.

I glanced over and watched Kayden as he skated up to our captain, Dane St. Pierre, one of our forwards, Jace Rowland, and a defenseman, Silas Moss. Dane seemed like an okay guy, but again, way too fucking friendly for my liking. Jace too. Then there was Axel Lund. Another forward, and like me, a new addition to the team. I knew him by reputation, a guy who played fast and hard.

Silas skated around Axel and headed my way.

Fuck, not another one.

But unlike Kayden, Silas didn't smile at me.

"It's like a fucking frat party out here," he grumbled as he skated past me. "Jesus, can we get on with the playing already?"

Now, Silas, I could relate to. He looked older than the rest of the guys, with a thick blond beard. There was a quiet intensity about him. And his sarcastic outburst had me biting back a grin.

Hey, I'm an asshole, but not totally without a sense of humor.

More guys skated out onto the ice. Ethan Walker and Colin Goring, two forwards whose reputations I was also familiar with. Both guys were top scorers. Then I spotted more defensemen, Julian Hudak and Finn Baran, and finally, Sean Virtanen, another goalie. He'd had an injury or something at the end of last season. I'd looked up his stats. He was good. But I wasn't satisfied with being good. It was best or nothing.

Last up was our coach, Damien Banning. A former professional d-man who'd been coaching college hockey for the past four years. This was his second year at Sutton.

He joined us on the ice and whistled to get everyone's attention. I tapped the bar one last time and then I did my final stretches.

"Are we gonna stand around looking pretty for the freshman or get this game going?" Silas yelled out.

Coach Banning replied that he was in charge, not the other way around. When Silas rolled his eyes, I caught Coach's ensuing glare. Banning was a guy who didn't bullshit—he didn't give it and he didn't take it—and I could respect that.

He was especially blunt when it came to his expectations for me this season.

"Second place isn't an option," he said to me yesterday when we sat down in his office.

No shit.

Sutton U Cougars had ranked third in the college hockey standings last season, Banning's first coaching the team. The team ranked tenth the year before that. This year, the goal was to overtake Langston College for the top spot. If there was one thing I knew for certain, it was that I wanted to win. And, yeah, I had no choice but to work with my teammates. But, for the most part, I did my own thing.

My only concern was the hockey scouts that were starting to take notice of me. I knew my cranky attitude wouldn't mix well with my aspirations. Still, I did what I wanted—smoked, drank, and enjoyed the occasional spliff—and said whatever was on my mind. I didn't care to hear anyone's opinion about it. Or censor myself. I made my own rules.

Everyone else could, you guessed it, fuck off.

But, for real, I wasn't the only player with a smart mouth. There were plenty of those to go around.

And it wasn't just trash-talking on the ice. Most guys my age couldn't shut up about who they were banging and how often. Times like that, I realized how different, how odd I was compared to the norm. The only thing I didn't do was sex. I guess if I thought about it, that was its own kind of rebellion. Not by choice. Sure, I was curious. But I didn't think about sex the way other guys did. There was a disconnect inside me I didn't fully understand yet. And letting a stranger touch me was not in the cards. I wish I could screw all my frustration away, but for now, my fist would have to do.

Then again, I wondered, who'd want to be near me? On the outside, I'd pass for any college student. But on the inside, I had a lot of fissures. At this point, I had nothing but my hockey net holding me together.

Coach suddenly blew his whistle and the high-pitched sound startled me out of my head and back to the moment. Shoving my anxieties away, I focused on the players in front of me. Out here, I wasn't fucked up. I was in control.

Dane separated the team into two groups, and next thing I knew, he was facing off against Axel for possession. When the captain himself got hold of the puck and started barreling down the ice in my direction, everything clicked into place.

I was ready for this. College. Hockey. A new life. All of it.

Or, so I thought.