Page 19 of For Pucking Keeps

“Are you close with your father and mother? To have you so young, it’s commendable they stuck it out together.” Jaz looks over at me hopefully, placing her hand over my thigh, squeezing it in a show of support. I glance over and let her see my reality in my expression, hurt, sadness, despair, emotions I rarely let bleed through.

“Unfortunately, no. I never knew my father. He walked away from my mother the day I was born. He told her he had a life planned for himself that didn’t involve her, especially not with a child he didn’t want at least.” I shrug and continue. “Nine months she stayed with him and his parents, never giving her a reason to doubt what they had until then. Little did she know he was with someone else the entire time. His parents even knew.”

Jaz gasps, mouth falling open in shock. “No.”

“Oh yeah, he was a piece of shit. He left her there at the hospital, told her he and his parents had done their part in helping her, now she needed to move on.” I chuckle bitterly. “They wanted nothing to do with her or me. Not once did anyone admonish my deadbeat of a father, though, oh no. He had a bright future, a scholarship, and a promising career playing basketball for some college in upstate New York. Fuck my mother’s dreams and aspirations. No one gave a damn aboutwhat having a child at eighteen, barely graduating high school with a newborn baby would do to her. But, you know what? Karma is a bitch and then you die,” I say with all the venom I can muster. What do they say? You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead. Well, I say screw that noise. What he did to my mother destroyed her. He got what he deserved. I truly believe it.

“What happened to him?” Jaz asks, her voice now a low whisper, as if she’s afraid of what I might say.

“A car accident. Apparently he was returning home after his first semester in college, driving through a snowstorm. My mother told me he lost control of his car. Head on collision, he died on impact.” I shrug nonchalantly. “I guess he was granted a small mercy in the end.”

“Tor, I’m?—”

“Don’t, Jaz.” I cut her off, the last thing I want is pity, it’s not why I wanted to tell her this. “My mother gave me the best life she could. I didn’t have much, but what I did have, I learned to cherish and appreciate. My mother worked tirelessly to put food on the table, a roof over my head, not once asking for a handout. She introduced me to hockey and bought me my first pair of secondhand skates. It’s the main reason why I give to those less fortunate. Because someone reached down and helped me up. It was a program like the ones I now run that got me on the ice daily,giving me the experience and exposure to the sport that I love. Eventually word got out about me, a few scouts came out to watch me play, and that’s how I got a free ride to college. The rest is history.” I smile and give her a wink, but Jaz only stares back at me with unshed tears in her eyes. Keeping one hand on the wheel I reach out and take her hand in mine.

“I didn’t have the best start in life, but I had a determined mother who taught me to never take my eyes off the path placed in front of me. To steer the course and never let myself get distracted from my goals. It is a life lesson I take to heart.” The back of my throat burns from the emotions brewing underneath the surface. The memories of my mother and the things she taught me, every kiss, hug, and every loving word she uttered.

“She must be very proud of you. My mother is the same way. After our father died, it was just her and her determination to make our lives better.” Jaz sniffs, then clears her own throat.

“She was proud of me.” I pull my hand away, placing both hands on the wheel, blinking rapidly to keep my own tears from spilling over. “My mother lost her battle with cancer during my rookie season with the Vipers. I was a mess, let the wrong people into my life, lost my way for a bit. If it hadn’t been for Ridley, who knows where I’d be now.”

“I’m so sorry, Tor.” She pauses and we both remainsilent, letting everything we shared with one another sink in. I didn’t mean to turn this outing into a confessional, but I wanted to share myself with her. She spoke so openly about her life; she deserved the same from me.

“Out of the dead, blackened soil grows the bright blooms of new life. Seeking the sun, rising high above thorns and brambles threatening to block out the light. The flowers flourish, despite the shadows at the roots,” she mutters to herself.

“Is that yours?” I ask, wanting to change to subject.

“Yeah, a poem I wrote a long time ago.” She hums thoughtfully. “That’s how it all started for me. I used to write poetry. I have journals full. Poetry is what opened the door to writing for me. That stanza in particular felt poignant, it just came to me, random but fitting.”

“You are brilliant, Jazminne Starr.” I smile gratefully. This woman never ceases to amaze me. The words she spoke feel like they were written just for me. No matter the darkness of my upbringing, my mother gave me the life I needed to grow, she pushed me up into the light and I flourished. At least, it’s what I interpreted from her words. I’m sure it means something completely different to Jaz.

After a pit stop for lunch at a local café outside of the city. I began the drive back to Jaz’s home. We talk aboutnothing and everything. After such a heavy conversation earlier, we both appreciated the easy conversation. I ask about her books and regale her with locker room stories of her newly obsessed fanboy Devan. Of course we talk about hockey, but she shies away from discussing the current book she is working on. I don’t ask why. I’m just happy to have her here beside me. I feel at ease, as if I’ve known her my whole life. When we pull up outside her house I park the car, but I don’t want her to part from me. Suddenly, the day ended too soon.

“Come to the game tomorrow night,” I blurt out nervously, anything to prolong her exit. “I can introduce you to some of my teammates. Maybe I can get the PR team to give you a tour before the game. You know, give you the whole experience.” I am desperate, but I can’t let her walk away today without arranging more time with her.

“Lia goes to every home game.” She shrugs. “There is no way she isn’t going to drag me along, but I would love to learn more about the inner workings of your team.” Jaz opens her door, but I reach out and clutch her hand in mine, halting her. She angles her body to face me, eyebrows raised in question.

“Are you alright, Mr. Bailey.” She smirks.

I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m feeling overwhelmed and out of my depth, but I don’t care. I want to drag her home with me and never let her go. I’m thinking crazy, possessive, obsessive thoughts, that both excite yet scare me. I’m so used to control, structure, and routine, out on the ice, as a captain to my team, and my everyday life. But with this, with her, I’m unravelling. “You’re a romance author. How fast is too fast? I mean, if you were writing a story, how fast is too fast?” I grip her hand tighter as her brows crease in concern.

“Uh, it depends on what you mean by too fa?—”

I don’t let her finish as I tug her over the console and into my waiting arms. My lips find hers and I kiss her. Her lips are soft as they collide with mine, her hands press against my chest as she steadies herself against me. I lick and pull at her bottom lip as she gasps in surprise, opening up just enough for me to deepen the kiss. I feel the exact moment she gives in, when she decides to give me everything. Her body relaxes into mine and we both groan in satisfaction, as if our bodies were waiting for our minds to catch up to what they already knew. This, our connection, a foregone conclusion, an inevitability. Our tongues tangle, the kiss goes from soft and sweet to hard, frenzied, and demanding, making my head spin. We kiss like two stars colliding, finally relenting to the gravitational pull, spiraling closer and closer, until we are one. With one kiss, my world is irrevocably changed. My Supernova crashed into my life, and she hasn’t destroyed me, she’s rearranging me, and I am more than okay with it.

When Jaz finally pulls away, lips swollen, eyes glazed, she smiles. “Nope, not too fast at all, Mr. Bailey. That was page worthy.” She reaches out her hand and wipes my bottom lip with her finger and I lean into her touch. “You have my lip gloss all over your face.”

“Not a hardship,” I say as she steps out of the SUV.

“Thank you for today, Tor.” She gives me one more beautiful smile then closes the door.

“It was my pleasure, Miss Starr,” I finally say as I watch her walk up the steps to her house, hips swaying, ass taunting me, making my mouth water.Shit.Jaz turns and waves me off, then disappears into her home. I sit in my car in a daze watching her closed door, wondering what the fuck just happened.

THIRTEEN

JAZ

Happy.

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