Page 27 of For Pucking Keeps

***This post is no longer posting comments due to community violations***

EIGHTEEN

TOR

It’s the third period. Miami is down by one, the clock is ticking down at a snail’s pace. Devan, Ridley, and Maxwell, a newly traded forward, that came to us about a month ago from New York, are all scrambling to keep our heads above water. I watch the puck slide along the ice aiming for Miami’s goalie, a possible assist for Devan, but Shortage, Miami’s goalie, bats the puck, his gloved hand snapping up and swatting at it like a man showing irritation at an errant fly.

“Damn it!” Maxwell shouts as he skates behind the net, only to propel himself forward to get back into the fray. The action tonight has been nonstop. We haven’t had a moment to breathe. I am grateful this is the last game in yet another series of away games. Tomorrow we will finally get a break, and bythe fatigue on everyone’s faces, it is needed. It’s been almost three months of relentless playing for us. We lost a few games since the winning streak that started the season. Coach is pushing us harder on and off the ice. Our goal of the Stanley Cup is within reach, my dream is on course, and being with Jaz hasn’t compromised any of it.

In fact, my growing relationship with my Supernova only made me better, I perform better. I want and need to win for her. Jaz and I have been inseparable since the night at my penthouse. When I’m not away, she’s with Lia, both of them cheer the team on during home games from the stands. No one looks twice at my shining Supernova as she wears my jersey with pride. Mine. All mine. She’s become a staple around the team and the arena, continuing her hockey research and getting to know the team and the administration. The more they get to know my girl, the more comfortable they all are around her. Even the social media posts have died down, just like my agent, Parker, and Julia, Jaz’s publisher, predicted. The two of them have never met, yet they both seem to agree on one thing, the more Jaz and I are seen, the more the public will get used to us and will start to look away, ignoring us completely. Of course there is still the occasional rant about our relationship by jealous bunny bloggers, but they are quickly silenced. Sorry,not sorry, that’s why I pay my PR team top dollar.

“Bailey, rally your team! Let’s finish this!” Coach Lennox shouts across the ice. Yeah, yeah. He can sense my lack of focus as I clear my thoughts of the beautiful woman who I know is in front of her television watching us with popcorn and cider in hand. Coach crosses his arms over his chest; he gives me a knowing incline of his chin. To the press and everyone watching, the gesture may seem like a nod of encouragement, but to me it means, ‘Get your head in the fucking game and make some magic happen’.

A quick grab of my visor is my only reply as I check in with my teammates. Everything that could go wrong in tonight’s game has gone wrong. Team morale is down, and we are barely holding on to this win. Earlier in the first period one of Miami’s defensemen, Larson, deliberately collided with Bast, knocking him out cold. Sebastian’s helmet went flying, his head hit the ice, making my heartbeat wildly in my chest as we waited, breath held, while they attempted to revive him. It all happened too fast, one minute he was gearing up to block the shot, Devan hot on Larson’s heels. But Larson didn’t take the shot, no, the asshole kept going at full speed, puck abandoned, stick out in violation in front of him as he cross-checked Bast into the back of the net. Concern for my friend and teammate sent the entireteam into a rage. It’s well-known that you don’t ever, ever fuck with the team goalie. As captain, it is my job to maintain calm, but I was the first to drop gloves. Let’s just say the fans got a show. It was a bench clearance—an all-out brawl on the ice as both teams fought while Bast was carted off on a stretcher, and the refs threw Larson out of the game. It was clear Larson, an asshole known for brutality, had it out for Bast. Now, when we need Bast the most, we have to bring in our backup goalie, Javier Gossman, in his place. Javier is a great goalie, but he is young, and not as clued in as Sebastian. Well, tonight will be his trial by fire.

“Look alive, Gossman, show no fear baby!” Devan shouts as we attempt to regain possession of the puck. Javier gives a terse nod, slapping his gloves together, squatting low, ready for Miami’s forward to make a move. The forward attempts a slapshot, but Javier catches the puck in his glove.

I roar my approval, “Yes! That’s how it’s done! Strong work, Gossman. Keep it up for a few more minutes.” I pat his shoulder as I pass by quickly.

I check the clock, eyeing the positions of my team all around me. Coach Lennox wants magic, so I’ll give him something for the show reels later. Ridley skates up next to me, reading me without words, knowing exactly what I am thinking. He whoops in excitement, then picks up speed, storming away from me, the silent exchange between us sends a thrill through me as I send my shoulder into one of Miami’s forwards, stealing the puck away. His yell of protest cut off as Devan silenced him, well, not totally silent, there was a grunt of pain as he crushed the forward into the boards before he has a chance to retaliate. I take off down the ice.

I know without a shadow of doubt my back is protected. I shuffle the puck from right to left, faking out Miami’s goalie. I want him to believe it’s me who’s going to attempt the shot, but with a sleight of hand or stick, worthy of making a magician weep, Ridley has the puck. With a blast of speed, he slaps the puck towards the goal. Miami’s goalie goes right, glove hand extended, only for the puck to skirt past him on the left side, hitting the back of the net with an audible swoosh.

“Masters!” The announcer shouts, sending Miami’s fans into a frenzy of boos and shouts of outrage. Ridley pumps his fist into the air, colliding with me, our chests bumping, the fake out maneuver doesn’t always work, but hell, we pulled it off beautifully. I can’t wait to see that replay on the sport channels later. The alarms are blaring all around us, lights swirling as Vipers fans in the stands wave and cheer us on. The rest of the game goes by in a blur, and we manage to maintain a two-goal lead till the end.

There is no celebratory jam session after. Devan slumps against the lockers, head hanging low as he sits next to me in silence. Ridley broods on the other side of me, cursing under his breath, like me, blaming himself for everything that went down on the ice tonight. We are all dressed and ready to catch the plane home, but we’ve been told to remain in the locker room to get an update about Bast’s condition. Somehow our communication manager wrangled the press away with only a quick interview with Coach Lennox. I’m grateful; I don’t have the heart to put on a fake smile for the mob. Not when Bast is lying in a hospital bed unable to fly home with the team tonight. Just the thought of him staying behind makes me want to march out there and find Larson, who’d been given a game misconduct and pulled from the game. I know he will be fined for the infraction further and will hopefully get a suspension for the next few games, but it isn’t enough in my opinion; his actions were fucking criminal.

“As I am sure you were all made aware, Bast has been hospitalized due to a head injury on the ice. The team doctor, along with the doctors at the hospital, are monitoring him now to assess the severity. They are hopeful though. Bast regained consciousness and began to talk on arrival at the hospital, but they want to keep a close eye on him. Head injuries can be tricky. Luckily for us we have a few days of training and a rest day before our next home game. We will know more by tomorrow. For now, let’s get home. I don’t need to remind you all of what’s at stake now. One of our best has been struck down.” Coach Lennox, with his hands firmly on his hips, turns to Javier and acknowledges him. “Gossman. You stepped up. Keep up the good work.” He claps and we all whoop and cheer the rookie on as he smiles shyly, clearly not expecting the coach to praise him tonight.

“Next song’s for you, Javier. That’s a bet!” Devan points to a wide-eyed Javier with a smile.

Devan, who seems to have shaken off his dark mood, suddenly has the entire team congratulating Javier and talking again in general. We may have won the game tonight, but we had one of our best down for the count. For how long? We don’t know. We will need all the luck going forward. Coach was right when he said the other teams were coming for us. We will have to be extra careful going forward, we can’t afford to lose anyone else.

I understand now why my teammates with wives and children grow despondent after too many days away. It’s something I’ve never paid attention to before now. The urgency in which they jog away from the team, cutting off the pro-athlete part of themselves, jumping in their cars and speeding off without a backward glance. Now, I understand the feeling completely. Being without Jaz has made me feel adrift, living on autopilot, eager to return to her again.

To say I’m besotted with this woman, my woman, is an understatement. FaceTime wasn’t enough to sate my need for her. I hate being away. One hotel room bleeds into another, night after night, but stroking my dick raw and watching her play with that gorgeous pussy of hers through the phone will never equate to the real thing. Jaz is my own personal drug, I need my fix, a high only she can give, and withdrawal is creeping up slowly. I need to see her, and I can’t get there fast enough.

I practically run to my car once we touch down. I ignore Ridley and Devan’s pleas for me to go out with the rest of the team. They tease me, of course, but I couldn’t care less what they have to say about my newfound obsession, as Ridley put it. I know exactly where my night is heading, and it isn’t at the bottom of a shot glass. It is clear after only a short period of time Jaz has become the most important person in my life. The only person in my life who matters. Yeah, I have Ridley, Devan, and Lia, my found family, but Jaz makes me whole. I want to express this all to her and I know it is only a matter of time until I confess another truth. I just hope she feels the same, although, I believe she does.

Lucas stands behind the security desk in the lobby of mypenthouse, eyebrows raised in amusement as he watches something on the screen in front of him. Glancing up his expression clears to one of absolute focus as I stride past. “Good game tonight, Tor. I saw what happened to Bergeron though, cheap-ass shot if I ever seen one.” He frowns, crossing his arms over his chest in disapproval. I pause mid-step, my heart torn between talking about Bast and getting to Jaz.

“They are assessing him back in Florida. I don’t think it will be anything that will harm his game, but he could be out for a while. Sebastian’s a beast though, he will want to get back on the ice as soon as possible,” I reply matter-of-factly. I don’t want to entertain the notion of him being out for the rest of the season. The team needs him. It would be a tremendous setback if we lost him. I guess that’s why Larson targeted him in the first place.

“Well, the new guy stepped up, and you guys still came away with a win. But the fans will be looking forward to Bergeron’s return.” Lucas huffs out a laugh. “I know you didn’t rush home to talk to me. I’m delaying your reunion.” He lifts a brow. “Miss Starr is upstairs. She arrived about two hours ago, laptop in tow, looking a little frazzled. She told me she has a lot of writing to do and very little time to do it.” He shrugs. “But that is what she always says. The woman is a workaholic in my opinion.” He smiles fondly. Lucas and Jaz have grown close these past few months. We’ve spent more time here than at her house because I wanted to keep her place under the radar of the press. Plus Lucas can protect her while I’m away, and there is no one better than him to do that.

Tapping on his desk, I wave him goodnight with a promise to catch up with him later. Rushing to the elevators, I slip inside and lean myself against the back wall and take a calming breath. I let the weight of the last week fall away, exhaustion has replaced adrenaline and my limbs beg for sleep. The doors slide open silently, the only lights illuminating my path coming from the window. The Pier is still lit up at this time of night, people perusing the shops below. None of it matters though as I shed my clothes, letting them fall to floor as I make my way through the penthouse and up the stairs toward my room.

The soft glow of the nightlight can be seen from the hallway. I pause, naked in the doorway, dick hard and ready. It doesn’t take much, and imagining what I will see when I approach my room is enough to have me standing at attention. I lean against the doorframe, wondering why I even tried to resist this pull to her. Alexis Rhodes, my Supernova, the infamous Jazminne Starr, is a vision, a gift, and mine. She lays underneath the covers, hair covered with her red silk bonnet, a few wayward curls framing her sleeping face. Her laptop lays beside her, pushed over to my side of the bed. She must have attempted to work to stay awake for me. Unfortunately, we were delayed because of what happened with Bast, and sleep claimed her first.

I can’t take my eyes off her. I’m continuing to question my newly developed stalker tendencies when it comes to her. But maybe Ridley is right, I’ve known it from the start, I’m obsessed and possessive of her. Yeah, my behavior is therapy worthy, but I can’t stop my feelings, and I am not apologizing for them either. Sometimes I wonder if my mother in heaven is still making a way for me somehow. Arranging and rearranging the stars to make sure the light still shines in my life. Jaz is my light, and I am falling in love with her. Whether my mother has a hand in this or not, someone up there is looking out for me, and undoubtedly for Alexis as well. Love doesn’t need a timeline, which I will remind her when she tells me my love for her is too fast, too soon. Everything about our relationship has been a whirlwind, but none of it matters when it works, when it’s true. We are both honest, and that’s what makes our situation work. Truth.

I pad over, crossing the room in long strides. I pick up her laptop and walk it over to a newly purchased high back chair that sits behind a small desk by the window. Most nights it is deemed Jaz’s writing corner. If she didn’t love her home so much, I wouldask her to move in, but I think I would be willing to give this place up and move in with her. I don’t need the status of a penthouse and all the shit I own, my money doesn’t make me a rich man, no, being with her does. I am fine with her place, it’s big enough for the two of us. Plus, I can keep an eye on Lia as well. Although, I have a feeling Devan is doing that. Laptop secure, I turn my attention back to the bed. Pulling back the sheets, I slip in beside Jaz’s very naked body.

“Fuck, baby,” I whisper. Wrapping my arm around her waist, I pull her body into mine. My mouth waters, my hunger reignited by the sight and feel of her delicious curves. Jaz hums sleepily, her soul sensing mine as she nestles into me, her ass pressing against my aching length, making me groan.

“Tor,” she mumbles.

“Shhh. . .baby.” I kiss the back of her neck and watch as goose bumps pebble her skin at the sensation of my lips’ caress. “I need you, Supernova,” I whisper in her ear, nipping the lobe with my teeth. “You going to let me fuck you while you sleep, baby?”

---