Edge (3 page)

“The hell it doesn’t! That’s the whole point of the game.”

My blood pressure rose, a usual side effect of a conversation with my father. “Just because you’re a hockey coach, that doesn’t mean—”

“The highest winning coach in the NHL,” he cut in. “I’m a damn good coach, Dell. And I won’t have my grandson taught to play like a pussy.”

The locker room noise in the background reminded me he had a game tonight. His mind should’ve been there, not on Kyler’s hockey mite practice.

“Dad, where did you hear this?” I asked.

“I have my ways.”

“Oh, my God.” I pulled the phone from my ear and let out an exasperated sigh. “Are you sending scouts to the hockey mite practice to spy? You need to stay out of this. I told you, I almost didn’t even let Kyler play at all, because I will not have you doing … what you do … to him.”

“What?” Dad barked. “Make him into a winner? Yeah, that’d be awful, wouldn’t it?”

“I have to go. We’re about to eat and you have a game.”

“You tell that coach—”

“Dad. Let’s talk about this another time. Have a good game.”

I hung up the phone and stared at it for a second. After all these years, my father still got a rise out of me like no one else. I buried Sadie’s phone under my pillow, but then thought better of it because of airport guy. So instead I stuck it in my pocket and headed for the kitchen. My father had an entire NHL team to coach. Why did he get so hung up on Kyler’s team?

Luke

The locker room buzzed with the pre-game energy I’d missed. It wasn’t the same, because this wasn’t the team I’d sweated and bled with for the past six years, but I’d adjust. Kicking ass with this team was the way back to mine.

Tanner walked in and the room quieted. He cleaned up well, now wearing a gray suit and a red tie.

“You played like shit in our last game and I know you’re better than that,” he said. “Keep your fucking heads up and in this game. Show me some heart, boys. No one’s getting paid a fortune for this game tonight. Winning it won’t get us into a championship. You know why we’re here tonight?”

Everyone looked at him silently.

“We love hockey.” He shrugged. “That’s it. Go out there and play because you love hockey.”

Those simple words made my blood pump hard. I did love hockey. Sometimes I resented the way my dad had forced me into it, making me live the dream he’d grasped for just a month before an injury ended his career. But I’d grown to love it, and I could hardly wait to get back out there.

I’d stretched, gotten my knee wrapped and listened to the songs that were my pre-game ritual soundtrack. My head was in the right place now.

When the announcer called out the names of the starting five in a booming voice, my skin prickled with excitement as the crowd broke into an extra loud roar. I wanted to give them a good game.

The second the puck dropped, I was back in my element. I raced down the rink, my thirst for the game hardly quenched by yesterday’s no-contact practice. The first guy who touched me got a pissed-off shove in return.

“Fucking bigshot, right?” he muttered.

“Bigger than you, asshole.”

He slashed me with his stick and I gave it right back. Were the refs off tonight? What the fuck? Maybe the refs at this level were lax about fighting since the crowd liked it. Worked for me, ’cause I liked it, too.

The puck was passed my way and the guy I’d shoved stole it in a flat second. I was momentarily stunned. That shit did not happen to me. I got my bearings and headed back down the rink to get it back.

But it was an omen. The whole game, I was flat and slow. And the worse I played, the hotter my frustration burned.

I took the bench when another line took over and bowed my head between my legs. This was a fucking nightmare. The game was almost over, and we were down 4-1. And I hadn’t played so fucking lousy since high school.

No one spoke to me. Not even Tanner. We went back into the locker room and he launched into his speech about how bad we sucked, but I wasn’t listening. I was drowning in a sea of anger. I sure as hell wouldn’t be going back to my team now. Or possibly ever. Some guys never came back from knee injuries like mine, but I’d thought that since the pain was gone, I’d be okay.

I felt someone slide in next to me on the bench and I looked up with a scowl.

“Hey,” Dell said. “How ya feeling?”

Was she serious? “Like shit. Thanks for asking.”

“What can I do?”

“Nothing. Just leave me alone.”

“I’ll mark you down on my ‘asshole after loss’ column.” Her tone was light and easy. Just like a woman. She had no idea what this game meant to me. It made me want to punch a hole in a wall.

“I’ll mark you down on my airhead column,” I muttered.

“Hey,” she said sharply. “I’m not a ditz.”

“I’m not an asshole.”

“Not normally, no. You had a bad game. Shit happens. Get a shower, go out and ask some lucky young lady if she’d like to see your stick. Ride her like a cheap pony and then work hard tomorrow at practice.”

“Such wisdom, sensei.” I ran a hand through my sweat-soaked hair. I did actually feel a little less explosive. This was what Ryke would’ve told me – get over it and move on. He probably would’ve even recommended getting laid like Dell did.

“Go get an ice bath,” she said, getting up from the bench.

A guy whose name I didn’t remember smirked as he walked past. “I thought you were supposed to be good, Hudson.”

“Fuck you,” I said, pulling my pads off. How would I get my head straight after playing so fucking bad? Maybe I did need to get laid. It’d been a long time. I’d stayed focused on physical therapy and weight training in my two months off. So that meant I hadn’t had sex in … two and a half months?

And still, I didn’t feel like bothering with it. I didn’t want to smile and flirt and try to be impressive to some chick I’d never see after tonight. I just wanted to ice, get a shower and go back to my apartment and be alone. Inevitably, my dad would call to break down just how much I’d sucked tonight. He watched every game I played on TV or Internet live-stream.

No game and no interest in getting laid. Who the fuck was I?

Dell

Our goalie, Jack Scroggins, was crouched on my treatment table, his ruddy, bare ass in the air. He was hairy and sweaty, making me realize I didn’t miss seeing naked men’s asses at all, really.

My job was to help the team with any and all medical issues. And today, the issue was hemorrhoids.

“Yeah, that’s … I’ll call the doc about that,” I said. “I’m not able to treat that.” Thank God.

“Fucking hurts,” Jack said, turning his head to look at me.

“I’ll try to get you in with Landis tomorrow. You can … get down now. And put your pants back on.”

He grimaced as he sat down on the table and then slid down. I shook my head, knowing I’d have to sanitize it now. And then go home and take a shower.

“So …” Scroggins fastened his pants but didn’t walk away. “I was wondering about something …”

“Hmm?”

“Uh …”

Our goalie was awkward. There was no other way to describe him. He was one of the guys, but he lacked the smoothness that came natural to most of the others. I’d always had a soft spot for him.

“When you’re dating someone, how do you know if they’re dating anyone else?” he asked, running a hand through his shaggy black hair.

“You should ask. Are you still dating that woman you met at the Laundromat?” I smiled, hoping Jack had finally found someone he was compatible with.

“Yeah. But isn’t there some other way to figure it out?”

I pretended to think about it. “You could dig through her trash and look for used condoms.”

His eyes widened and I felt bad for teasing him.

“Just talk to her about it. Tell her you really like her. Don’t play games.”

He nodded. “How long do you think it’ll take to get rid of …?” He pointed to his ass.

“Uh … I really don’t know. But I’ll call Landis right now. You won’t be able to see him until tomorrow since it’s so late.”

It was nearly seven in the evening. I’d left earlier to pick Kyler up from school, take him to the library and make dinner. Jack had asked me to meet him here about something, and I’d dashed over from Kyler’s hockey practice, leaving Sadie to cheer him on.

I wiped down my table and scrubbed my hands and arms up to my elbows. Sadie often said she was jealous that I massaged hot men for a living, but it I mostly did unglamorous work like this. As Butch Price’s daughter, I’d never even considered playing hockey. But I did love it, and this was my perfect job.

Grabbing my purse and hitting the lights, I ran from the locker room, hoping to catch the end of Kyler’s practice. The rink lights were on, and I glanced at the ice instinctively. Luke Hudson was out there alone, skating and shooting.

He wasn’t one of us. This was just a quick rehab stop before returning to his life of superstardom. But I still couldn’t help pausing to watch him, his determined look of concentration tugging at my chest. I wanted to go out there and check his knee. Was it wrapped? I hadn’t wrapped it since before practice this morning.

But I stopped myself. The two trainers from his major league team had cleared him for this assignment, and he wouldn’t listen to my words of caution about resting. I couldn’t say I blamed him; his career was on the line right now.

My day of dealing with the boys from my team was over, though. I was going to focus on the boy who mattered most to me. I turned for the door, not looking back.

Sadie turned to me, a slushy bright red line decorating her upper lip. “I mustache you a question,” she said, straight-faced.

I laughed heartily at her silliness. She cracked me up, and since we’d both had a strawberry daiquiri, I was easily amused.

“What is it with you and mustaches?” I asked.

“I think it was seeing all the guys from your team with them in November.”

“Ugh. No-shave November is not my favorite. Those guys are hairy enough as it is.”

Sadie rolled her eyes dramatically. “I’m so jealous you get to see all their hairy man parts. I haven’t seen a hairy man part in way too long.”

I wrinkled my brow with dismay. “I mostly see their legs and arms. They cover up their junk.”

We were on the couch, feet propped on the coffee table, relaxing since Kyler had been asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. Hockey practice always wore him out.

“So you’ve never seen a hockey player’s dick?” Sadie asked, arching her brows skeptically.

“Well, you know I’ve seen at least one, since Kyler’s dad is a hockey player.”

“Is that the only one?”

“I saw another one on accident when a guy’s towel fell off in the locker room, but it was nothing to get excited about.”

Sadie nodded knowingly. “Mike and Ike?”

“More like half a Mike and Ike.”

“Just a Mike. Ouch.”

“Yeah. I’m just one of the guys, anyway. It’s not like that between me and them.”

She gave me a scolding look. “Yeah, because you wear baggy sweats and a hat every day.”

“It’s comfy and practical,” I said, shrugging. “The rink is cold.”

“You want another?” she asked, reaching for my glass.

“No, thanks.”

She tipped the last of her drink past her lips. “So, if it’s not like that between you and the guys, could you introduce me to Luke Hudson?”

“Why would you want to meet him? I told you hockey players are only after one thing.” My voice rose with aggravation. “And Luke isn’t even staying here, so a relationship with him would be impossible.”

Sadie looked sheepish. “Maybe I’m not after a relationship. I’m in a dry spell, and I’m thinking just one night with a guy as hot as him would quench my thirst.”

I sighed, giving in. “Sure, I’ll introduce you. He’s practically at the rink around the clock, though. Can’t seem to find his mojo after that injury.”

“What’s with the judgmental tone? I thought you were all about helping guys come back after an injury.”

I shook my head. “Guys like him are arrogant and think they’ve got it all going on. They don’t remember what it’s like to be fighting like the guys on my team do — for just a chance to get to the big league. Luke was being considered for the next Olympic team. He’s one of the top players in the NHL. Do I feel sorry for him if he’s one of the more average players in the NHL? Not really.”

Sadie gave me a mock cringe. “Yikes. Bitchy much? Somebody seriously needs to get laid.”

I laughed so loudly I had to cover my mouth with my hand so I wouldn’t wake Kyler up. “I’m very happy with my sex-free life, thanks very much.”

“Well, mine sucks. So I vote for you to help Luke get his mojo back so he’s not at the rink all the time, then I can offer him a no-strings night, he’ll go back to Chicago and we’ll all be happy.”

I considered. “I probably should help him. It is my job. Plus, he doesn’t do pathetic very well.”

Sadie held up her empty glass for a toast. “Make this happen, girl, and I’ll cook dinner every night for a month.”

I hated cooking. “I’ll see what I can do.”

I clinked my glass against hers, my mind already turning about what I’d need to do to help Luke.

Luke

I pinched the bridge of my nose, reminding myself to let Dad’s words roll off my back. He was still worked up over my shit performance in my first game back.

“Are you heavy? Slow? Did you pick up weight while you were on the reserve?”

“I did physical therapy every day. I’m up about five pounds, but I’m not slow.”

He scoffed into the phone. “The hell you’re not. When you’re big, you’ve got to stay lean to move as fast as the little guys. You should’ve been back a month ago—”

“Tell it to the doctor.”

“If one wouldn’t clear you, another one would.”

I flopped back on the couch and stared at the ceiling. “We’ve got a team doctor.”

“They need a new one, then.” I could tell from his agitated tone that he was pacing. “You lose your edge when you’re off eight weeks. I fucking told you this would happen.”