Page 15 of Fall Wherever They May

“Hi, Tucker, you can just call me Cal.” I squat down, tighten the laces, then tie them. Steadying him by his elbow, I help him out onto the ice. “So, who are you here with?”

“My mom. It’s her first day. MyAunt River had an interview and couldn’t watch me. I told them I’m almost grownnow and don’t need a babysitter, but that didn’t go over well. Now, I’m here, but that’s okay because this . . .” He looks up, spreads his arms out wide, looking around as he twists his body from one side to the other to show me the arena. “. . . is fire.” I laugh as Tucker talks in rapid excitement.

I lean my elbow on the boards, watching him as he balances on the ice without slipping. “Oh yeah? What does your mom do?” I ask curiously.

“She helps the players.”

Ah, the new physiotherapist.

He grabs my stick resting against the boards and takes off in a sprint with the sound of laughter trailing behind him. The kid was full of shit when he said he wasn’t that good. He only skates at Christmas time, and he skates like that? I don’t buy it. He cradles a puck and goes for a slap shot, making it into the unattended goal. My mouth hangs open.

“You only skate during the holidays?” I ask to confirm.

“Yes, sir. Well, ice skate, anyways.”

“You’ve never played hockey before?”

Tucker shakes his head, “No, sir. We don’t have hockey leagues for kids where I’m from; we play football. My buddy’s dad always has hockey on the TV, though. I would watch it when I was at his house. And sometimes, his dad would take us to watch the semi-pro team in Tulsa. That was cool. But Brent, that’s Rich’s dad . . . you know? My friend? His name is Rich. Anyway, Brent would say they fight like sissies in the semis; the pro teams are more hardcore. Their favorite team is Colorado, no offense,” he rambles, pulling another laugh from me.

This kid needs to be on a little league hockey team; he’s a natural. I run him through drills trying to teach him how to deke like he asked. He fumbles and falls during several attempts. We spend about an hour practicing, goofing off, joking, and givingfist bumps every time he gets something right. I haven’t had this much fun in a long time.

From the corner of my eye, I see someone watching us. I look up to find a tall woman with long black hair, standing in the exact same spot and in the same way Tucker did earlier. My eyes widen in surprise to see Aspen here at the facility.What the fuck is she doing here?But I look at the boy and realize she must be his mom; he’s a spitting image of her. Anyone with a brain can look at these two and tell they’re related. Same black hair, tan skin, green eyes; he even has the same smile, though I’ve only seen her smile appear twice when she was petting that puppy. The rest of the time, she was scowling at me. The only difference between their features is his nose; it’s a little more upturned, and he has a smattering of freckles where she has none.

“Are you a creeper?” I ask her.

The way I seem to fire her up and agitate her every fiber makes me feel more alive than I have in years. I have to admit, I enjoyed riling her up in the driveway yesterday.

“Excuse me?” Her brows pull down, and she gives me a puzzled look.

I throw the words at her that she threw at me yesterday, “Are you following me?”

Tucker laughs, making his way over to the boards, “No way, Cal. That’s my mom.”

She shakes her head. “To answer your question, Mr. Miles, I am not following you . . .” She pauses, looks me dead in my eyes, and says, “I own you.”

What? What does she mean she owns me? Nobody fucking owns me. Just because she had the last words yesterday doesn’t mean jack shit. I squint my eyes at her, and she returns the glare with a satisfied smile. It takes a minute for her words to sink in, and I feel like I’ve been slapped in the damn face.

Holy fuck! No fucking way.She’sthe new team owner?She’sthe daughter of Ryan West? This can’t be real. This has to be a fucking joke. She gives me a smug smile, and I. Don’t. Fucking. Like. It. It’s bad enough that I have to live across the street from this crazy ass woman, but now I have to share a workplace with her too?

“Never thought I’d render you speechless. Looks good on you. I’ll see you at the team meeting this afternoon, Hotshot,” she says to me, then directs her attention to Tucker, “Come on, Buddy, it’s time for lunch.”

“Mooooommm. Please don’t do this to me. Do you know who he is? He’s Callan Miles! The best center in professional hockey.” He puts his hands together in a plea.

I smirk thinking back to yesterday when I asked if she knew who I was and she was a snarky little shit. I mean, how could she not know who I am? She obviously owns the fucking team. My eyes catch her fierce green ones, and I would almost swear she is plotting my demise. I see the hesitancy in her expression; she doesn’t want to tell him no, but she doesn’t much like me either. Well, the feeling is mutual.

Hell, I don’t really want her to tell him no either, which is a strange feeling, but we were having fun. She’s as beautiful as she is infuriating. Electricity shoots through my body, and my stomach flips when her emerald eyes connect with mine.

She looks between us, nibbling on her bottom lip. Her expression softens towards her son. “Tell your friend bye. We have to go.” She turns around, not giving him another chance to argue. A black dress hugs her body, and her ass sways as she makes her way up the steps in her black strappy heels.

Tucker skates back over to me and holds out his hand. I place mine in his, and he shakes it with a firm grip. “It was really nice to meet you, Cal. Thank you for teaching me today.”He exits the ice, takes off the skates, and starts toward the supply room.

“I’ll take care of it, Tucker.” I call to him. “Go on with your mom.”

“Thanks.” Tucker gives a quick wave before running up the stairs. That girl drives me absolutely fucking crazy. She HATES me! Now she’s my boss? Shit! I need to talk to Carter before everyone rolls in for the team meeting. Skating over to the bench, I pick up my phone and shoot him a text.

Me:I’m so fucked!

Carter:A little dramatic, don’t you think?

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