Chapter 13

The elevator door dings as it reaches my penthouse floor and slides open. I drop my hockey bag on the floor in the entrance as I head inside. Every inch of my body fucking hurts, yet I can't wipe the smug grin off my face. Fucking Aspen. Never did I think a girl could make me feel so many things. After Olivia, I didn't expect to ever trust a girl again, let alone care for one, but with Aspen, things are so different. She is so different. She's real, and she drives me fucking wild.

As I make my way into the main living space, the familiar sound of Call Of Duty hits my ears, followed by Stanley shouting at the TV. Guy is never willing to admit he's straight dog shit at the game. Any time he dies, he blames whatever poor soul he's teamed up with, and it always results in a huge screaming match. I'll admit, most nights it's fucking annoying, but tonight, nothing can kill my mood.

"Fuck off! What the fuck are you doing, you idiot? Shoot him!" Stanley shouts into his headset as I round the corner. "Oh fuck off, how do you miss every shot, bro!"

"Sounds like you're having a great night," I smirk.

Sitting down on the couch next to him, I pull my phone from my pocket and kick off my shoes. The table is littered with empties and munchies, a sure sign he's been at this for at least a few hours and he's probably been getting his ass handed to him the entire time.

On the ice, Stanley is a fucking machine. Guy's got more talent than half the team put together and has reflexes that would blow your mind. But when it comes to first person shooter games, well, let's just say I've seen middle school kids with better KDR than him.

"Oh yeah, sure. It would be a lot better if this fucking twat could actually shoot the enemies instead of leaving me to carry," he spits. I can hear the sound of his team screaming back at him through the speakers in his headset, but typical Stanley ignores them and carries on. "What took you so long to get home? Practice was hours ago, man."

"Aww you keeping tabs on me, mommy?" I laugh, whipping one of the small square couch pillows at him.

"Bitch, don't do that shit," he shouts with a high pitched tone as he blocks the pillow with his arm and tries to stay alive in his game.

I laugh, picking the pillow up from the floor. "I had some shit to handle, alright?"

"Yeah, okay. Since when are you so secretive, Cap?" he asks, keeping his eyes focused on the TV screen.

"Since I needed to be. Don't worry about it," I reply as I lean back into the oversized couch. I watch as Stanley dies in the game and the audible screams from his teammate once again blast through the speakers of his headset. He pulls the headset down around his neck and looks over at me.

"You're good though, yeah?"

"Yeah man, shit's great," I nod.

"Alright, cool. I'm going to order Chinese. I'm fucking starving," he says, placing the controller on the table. He heads towards the kitchen in search of the menus.

"Eh, get those spring rolls too," I shout over my shoulder.

"You got it, Cap,"

My phone lights up in my lap, and I see notifications from Carter Bishop, a rookie forward from our team. Not a bad kid, but he's ambitious and that can be dangerous. I flick open the message and notice he sent me a video. Stanley is on the phone in the background, ordering Chinese food from the place down the street as I click play on the video on my phone.

It loads for a second and then plays. At first, it's just dark, until Aspen comes into view. But it's not just her. It's a video of her and me in the locker room after practice today.

This mother fucker.

Rage builds inside me instantly. I watch, unable to tear my eyes from my phone as the video plays out. She's pressed against the lockers… there's the pink flush that coats her skin, and her gorgeous face as she moans with pleasure while I fuck her. The fact that this piece of shit got to see her like that infuriates me, but what's worse is he recorded it.

The video ends, and it returns to the message window.

Bishop

Fucking the enemy are we, Cap? The team deserves better. I want your patch, Duke, or the world, including that little rich bitch you call your girlfriend, will see this video. You have a week.

What in the actual fuck?

I whip my phone across the room. Bringing my clenched fist to my mouth, I sink my teeth into it to keep from losing my shit. My chest rises and falls rapidly as I contemplate my options. I can't risk this video coming out. I'm not willing to let it affect Aspen or the relationship she has with her dad and Ace. I might not like the guy, but I care about Aspen, and I know if they find out about us from this video, it will blow her entire world up.

"The fuck is that about?" Stanley says with raised eyebrows, making his way back into the living room. He places two beers on the table before making his way over to where my phone landed. He picks it up and hands it to me. "Luckily you didn't break your screen again. The fuck is going on?"

"Nothing, I'll handle it," I snap, taking my phone from him. I tuck it in the large front pocket of my hoodie.

Stanley plops back down on the couch and grabs his headset before pausing and handing the controller to me. "When I'm pissed, I kill people. In Call Of Duty, of course. Where, you know, it's legal. It helps."

"I'll pass, thanks."

"Suit yourself," he sighs, sliding his headset back up over his ears.

Giving Carter my patch means I will no doubt lose a lot of the scout support and probably end my hockey career for the NHL before it even begins. It means my parents will lose their shit, and if the coach finds out I'm banging someone other than his daughter, who"s to say he'll let me stay on the team?

I'll lose everything.

But her.

She's enough, though. For the first time in my life, something, someone means more to me than hockey. More than my career in the NHL. If giving it all up is what needs to be done to protect her, then that's exactly what I'll do.

No regrets.