Chapter 2

Harris

I'm racing up the rink with the puck when Lance Kingston comes out of nowhere and slams me into the boards so hard the glass shakes. I fly off my feet and land hard on the ground. The crowd lets out a loud collective ‘Oooh!'

The fucker scoops the loose puck with his stick and passes it to a teammate.

"You gotta be faster than that, old man," Kingston says with a grin before skating away to rejoin the action.

I wince and groan as I push myself up. My knees are throbbing. My elbow is on fire. I grit my teeth and force myself to catch up to them.

The game isn't going well. It's near the end of the second period and we're losing four to one. I got three passes stolen and I took a shot on the net, but I missed by a mile. My burning elbow is not helping.

Our star player, Sebastian Kemp, steals the puck in our zone, turns, and makes a breakaway for the opposite net. Everyone follows, struggling to catch up to The Sniper.

Sebastian makes it look easy. He dekes one way, making the goalie shift out of position, and then snaps the puck back and shoots it in the opposite direction. It flies toward the open corner, but the goalie is one of the best in the league and he gets his stick up just in time. It bounces off and Nylander from the other team gets the rebound by the boards. Tucker slams into Nylander so hard the crowd winces.

I skate over to get the loose puck. I grab it and I'm about to pass it to Austin when Kingston comes out of nowhere and steals it.

"Fuck," I grunt as he disappears, flying toward our net in a breakaway. I'm playing defense and he's caught me out of position. I'm struggling to catch up, but he's too fast. It's just our goalie Nolan Barlowe left.

Kingston feints left, feints right, and then puts it in between Barlowe's legs.

The crowd quiets as the Nighthawks celebrate on the ice.

My heart is pounding with anger as I skate back to our bench. I reach over the boards and grab my water bottle, expecting to stay on the ice.

"Sutton," Coach Moss says. "You're out."

My body tenses as I turn to him with my pulse thundering. I'm already amped up from getting the puck stolen and now this. I'm getting pulled from the game for the first time in my life.

"You're pulling me?" I growl. "Are you fucking serious?"

The coach sighs. "We'll say it's your elbow."

"Fuck that," I shout as I throw my water bottle at the bench. I slam my stick onto the boards and storm off the ice into the locker room as a mix of cheers, laughs, and boos rain down from the crowd.

"You fucking idiot," I grumble as I watch myself slamming my stick onto the boards on my huge flatscreen TV.

I'm sprawled out on my couch with bags of ice on my knees and one on my elbow.

"Is Harris Sutton at the bottom of the pack in San Antonio?"the announcer says as he replays the incident over and over. "He got chippy with Coach Moss and stormed out of the game. The Hyenas ended up losing six to one in tonight's game in San Antonio. Let's jump to the panel."

I sigh as four suits appear on the screen.

"What do you guys think? Has the Flamethrower finally been extinguished for good?"

I grab the remote and turn the TV off.

"Fuck!" I shout as I launch the remote at the couch. It bounces off the cushion and lands on the ground.

I know it's time to think about retirement, but the truth is, I'm scared. Hockey is all I have.

Nothing else has gone right.

If I don't have hockey, what do I have left?

The image of Fiona's beautiful face pops into my mind.

"Stop," I grunt as I squeeze my eyes shut. "Don't start."

It's always when I'm at my loneliest that she comes. She's like a ghost from my past coming to haunt me.

It was just supposed to be one night. I knew that. She knew that.

Five years ago, I was on the road in Kansas City playing the Hammerheads. We crushed them and the whole team went out to celebrate after.

I saw her dancing on the dance floor and was transfixed. She didn't look like the type of fake Barbie girls who are always hanging around the team. She looked like the girl next door. She looked like she could have been best friends with my sister or been working as an elementary school teacher in town.

It was her smile that got me. I spent half the night staring at her in awe until one of my old teammates pushed me off the bar stool and told me to go talk to her.

We connected immediately. It was like two lost souls finding each other and I fell hard.

The night flew by. We talked, laughed, and danced until the lights came on and the bouncers kicked us out.

Fiona came back to my hotel room and we had a night that still gives me shivers.

And then…

I never heard from her again. She was gone when I woke up and no matter how hard I tried to find her, she remained a ghost.

She disappeared without a trace and I've never been the same again.

I sigh as I head over to the fridge and grab a cold beer.

I take a long swig as I look out the window at my giant infinity pool all lit up beautifully in the darkness.

My chest feels hollow as I open the sliding door, head out, and take a seat by the water. A groan rumbles out of my throat as I stretch out my sore knees.

I can't remember the last time I went swimming. Hell, I can't remember the last time that anyone was in this pool.

This mansion is beautiful with more rooms than I can count, but what's the point of it all?

I remember being so proud of it when I had it built eight years ago, but these days, it just feels kind of pathetic.

I keep asking myself what's it all for?

I no longer care what's hanging in my closet, what's parked in my garage, or what's stacking up in my bank account.

What good is a lake house when you're all by yourself and what good is a gorgeous infinity pool with no one to have fun in it?

They're just things and it's a sad day when you realize that things are no longer enough.

"Fuck, dude," I whisper as I try to shake these thoughts out of my head.

I feel like I'm spiraling. I need to get myself grounded.

Ten years in the league and I don't remember ever being this frustrated.

"Stop thinking about her," I whisper to myself. "You always get this way when you think about her."

She's gone.

It's a cruel fact, but it's true.

She doesn't want anything to do with me or she wouldn't have left.

I just have to move on.

I close my eyes, lean back in my chair, and try to think of something else.

But I just end up wondering where she is and what she's doing.

And like always, it breaks my heart.