Page 5 of Pucks and Likes

But damn it, I don’t want my coworkers to know. I don’t want them to think I can’t do my job because I’m about to be a mom. I work in a male-dominated business, and I refuse for anyone to look down on me. I could probably tell my family now since I am truly excited to be a mom, but that would involve admitting who the father is. God, I’m an idiot. I’ve let this go too far, and now, I don’t even know what to say or how to tell anyone.

And then…there’s Alex.

Alejandro Benito Cruz.

I don’t know what I was thinking. News flash, I wasn’t. I was only feeling, enjoying his mouth, his hands, and sweet Jesus above, that cock. I allowed myself to give him all of my body and did a damn good job keeping my heart out of it. I never asked questions about his past. Though, he always shared. He let me know everything about him. How he grew up in a one-parent home, his dad walking out on him when he was young. How his mother is a strong, incredible Mexican woman who loves fiercely and hard. He is the youngest of four boys and talks to his family daily. I know his pizza order, his fast-food order, and even that he enjoys his tequila with ice and lots of fresh lime. Not as a shot, but as a drink.

The freak.

I pushed Alejandro Cruz away because he was going and I was staying. But if I’m truly honest, I was scared he couldn’t love me. I’m too much. I’m over the top. I was raised in a goddamn cult that my elder sisters had to fight to get us out of. I did things I’m ashamed of and am on medication for. Unlike with my sisters, therapy alone didn’t fix me. It’s helped, but I need medication too. Not that they know that. No one knows that.

When I did admit it to a guy once, he dumped me for needing “crazy people meds.” Then I had a string of every damn guy I was with treating me like shit and taking advantage of my huge heart and my need for love. I learned quickly to protect myself. I never gave Alex an inkling of who I am. He tried, he really did, but I only let him see what I showed him. And when things got too personal, I’d show him my tits or something, and things went back to what I wanted them to be. To us, burning together. The sex was top-notch, and if I’m honest with myself, I still use a lot of what we did as fodder for when I need release. It was that good. He was that good, and just the thought reminds me why I haven’t told him about his child.

One, I don’t want him to ruin his career doing “right” by me.

And two, I’ll fall head over heels in love with him if he does “the right thing.”

Because once he gets to know the real me, he’ll leave me and our baby behind.

CHAPTER 2

Alex

Skate, skate, slide, slide, skate, skate, slide, slide.

I slide to the goal and then skate around it twice before hauling ass down the length of the ice to do it again. My warm-up might seem a bit neurotic, but I’ve been doing it since I was a kid. To me, it’s as easy as breathing, and I don’t know another way. I feel off if I don’t do it this way, even if it means I hit the ice earlier than my teammates. I’m always the first on the ice—well…not since coming to the Nashville Assassins. Here, I fight for ice time with Dimitri Titov and Boon Hoenes. It’s always a toss-up as to which one of them will be out here with me, but they give me my space and allow me to get things done.

As I skate, though, I notice no one is out here today. Not that I’m surprised. The Assassins missed the play-offs by two points. After endless injuries plagued them, this is the first time in years the team hasn’t made it to the postseason. It sucks, but it is what it is. Unlike my teammates, I’m unable to miss ice time. I don’t have a spot with the team. I’m a fill-in for the starter who developed a nasty infection in his hip. I’ve done well in his spot and have been sharp, but I want to be better. I want to stay with the Assassins.

I like it here. Nashville, that is. Lots to do, lots to see, and I love the family feel of the team. I grew up in a big family, all boys and my mom, so being invited to dinners with the Adlers and hangouts with my teammates has been like being home. I’m not saying I didn’t feel like I was at home in Knoxville, but the team isn’t established like the Assassins are. They have traditions and events that have been going on for years. Every holiday is spent together, and Elli Adler, the owner, goes out of her way to make everyone feel a bit of home. For Easter, she made me churros and flan. From scratch. It was incredible and overwhelmed me with love. So much so, that when I told my mom, she wrote Mrs. Adler a thank-you note. It was kind of her, and it only makes me want to stay here with the Assassins.

Even if my heart is in Knoxville.

Nope. No. Not gonna happen.

Skate, skate, slide, slide, skate, skate, slide, slide.

Nope, not allowing myself to think of that.

Of her.

I round the goal once more and then roll my shoulders, shaking out my limbs. About forty minutes after I came out on the ice, my buddy Ciaran Carter joins me. We grew up together in the junior league as kids, and then we drafted to the Assassins together. We used to live together, but then he met his fiancée, and now he’s a signed player with the Assassins. Meanwhile, I’m single and not signed.

I’m in limbo.

Neither of us says a word to each other. I go into the goal, my happy place, and tap the goal post on either side of me three times each before I drop down in my stance, telling Ciaran I’m ready. He has a puck on his blade as he skates toward me, and he tries for over my shoulder. I catch it with my glove, throwing it away as we go again. He goes for my blocker side, but I bat it away with ease. He goes for five-hole, but I’ll be damned if I let a puck in that way. I feel like such a loser when someone scores like that. We go through a bucket of pucks before we’re both panting, and I grab my water bottle, following him to the bench where his water bottle is.

Ciaran leans into the boards as he squirts water into his mouth, and I do the same, but mine is blue Powerade. I hate Gatorade, and water is boring. After I swallow a mouthful, I ask, “How’d Lou’s appointment go?”

He nods, and that little gooey-eyed look of love comes over his face. “Good. Her ankle is still giving her some problems, so they scheduled another MRI. We go back next week to see if she needs another surgery.”

“Damn, that truck did a number on her.”

He nods solemnly, and it’s almost as if I can see the grief on his face from the memory of Louisa getting run over by a truck. She never saw it coming, and it got her good. Ciaran almost blew off his chance at the NHL to be by her side. Not that I’m surprised… Fuck, I would do the same thing for the right girl.

“Yeah. We’re wanting to get all this fixed before we try for a baby.”

I grin at my buddy, completely caught off guard. “Well, hot damn. You’re ready to be a daddy?”

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