Page 68 of Scoring Grey

After I score, I pull my helmet off. “You’re just mad I got the breakaway.”

“No, you’re fucking lazy and taking cheap shots to make up for your shit skills.”

I skate up to him. “Shit skills? That’s a calculated move that takes more skill than you have in your pinky. If I was cherry-picking, I’d be offsides, and I wasn’t.”

He pushes my chest. “You’re a washed-up liar.”

I push him back hard. “No, you’re just pissed you were out there trying to showboat and didn’t read the ice. You’re on a fucking team. This isn’t a one-man show, and you missed the play because you were out there for yourself.”

He swings at me, but I anticipated it, and he misses when I duck. I catch him around the waist and take him down as Coach Beck blows the whistle.

“That’s enough,” he calls out as he skates onto the ice, and I resist the urge to punch him anyway. He came after me. I should punch him back. I should end it, especially when I know he’s with Blair. I’m confident the two of them are up to no good.

“Keep testing me. I promise you won’t win,” I say before I put all my weight on his chest and push up off of him.

“Balfour is right. You didn’t have your eye on the big picture, which is how he thinned your side and opened up the ice.” Coach Beck doesn’t play favorites just because we have a bond off the ice. In fact, he’ll go out of his way to use me as an example of what not to do more than not to prove a point, but he knows it also pushes me to play harder. If the refs are on your ass, it’s typically because you’re making plays, but you need to be smart with your plays. I know the boundaries, and while Austin wants my role, he still has a lot of learning to do.

As Coach continues going over the play, a beacon of platinum-blond hair catches my eye coming down the breezeway, and my heart instantly stumbles at its recognition. It’s my girl. I haven’t seen her in over a week since we spent forty-eight hours in bed, during which I reacquainted myself with every inch of her skin as we made things right between us. Then her brother called. I understand why she left. She’s looking for answers, but being apart killed me. It was different this time. Before, all our truths hadn’t been revealed and I welcomed the space, knowing we needed to take things slow so she could figure things out. Now that there are no longer any secrets between us, I don’t want to let her go. Her space is where I am. Period.

Her eyes connect with mine through the glass, and I can see she’s just as tired as I am. I’ve been playing better than ever, and we clinched the wild card seat. We play our first round in two days, and I’m glad she’s back because I need sleep. I left my hate for my father on the ice this past week. He stole years from me with my son. Sure, Eloise never kept him from me, but his threats kept her from me. They were a barrier that prevented me from having my family. That was his goal. He wanted to take from me what was taken from him, or at least that’s what I’m trying to tell myself because I don’t know what to do with the other theory. It’s too dark, too malicious. It’s pure evil.

I’m unsure what Coach continued to say after my eyes landed on her. I may have missed something important, but I don’t care. All I care about is getting to my girl. The team exits the ice and heads back to the locker room, and I skate along the glass as Eloise walks to the bench to meet me. I enter the bench area and set my helmet down before removing my practice jersey and shoulder pads.

“How’s Adler?” He’s the reason her trip was extended. What was supposed to be a quick two-day trip turned into more when her dad had a last-minute client meeting he had to go out of town to attend. Iverson brought Adler along as a surprise for Eloise. FaceTime calls are never enough, and I would know. I’ve had to survive off them for years while I’m on the road for work.

“Hard to leave.” Her face drops, and her sadness silently resounds in my chest. Our son needs his mother, and I feel guilty as fuck for taking her away, but isn’t a shot at a lifetime at a happy family under one roof worth a few weeks of sacrifice? For me, the answer is yes, but I’m also accustomed to living on the road for weeks at a time. It’s harder for her.

“Yeah, I was starting to think you might not come back.”

Her eyes snap up to mine and she gives me a small smile. “He’s been handling it like a champ. It doesn’t hurt that my father and brother have been treating him like a prince, but it’s starting to wear on him. I was tempted to bring him back with me and say fuck it, I’ll homeschool or hire a home tutor to keep him on track…” She expels an anxious sigh before adding, “But the season is almost over, and I feel like we’re on the cusp of removing all the obstacles that have kept us apart.” No sooner I’ve finished removing my elbow pads than she’s standing in front of me. “While we’re on the topic of hurdles, why didn’t you tell me your mother had all the money?”

Leave it to Eloise to change the subject on a dime. However, I understand the motivations behind the sudden change. The more we talk about Adler, the harder it is to let go of the sadness. I shrug at the new topic. “I don’t know. I guess it doesn’t matter. My mother had money, and when she died, it went to my father. I don’t have their money, so I didn’t see the relevance.”

She crosses her arms, and her brows tug together. “Are you sure she didn’t leave anything to you?”

The main reason she went to Massachusetts was to meet up with Iverson at High Tower to help him do some digging on a lead. This line of questioning now must be a result of that. I’m assuming they didn’t find any money trails linking my father or the Wyndhams, which means we still need to find out what dirt my father supposedly has on her family. “I did a blanket public search on my mother. If there was a will, it would have shown up.”

“But a trust wouldn’t have. Beneficiaries have to be notified of the existence of a trust, and since you were an infant when your mother passed, that responsibility would have been passed down to your father or the trustee.”

“Okay…” I say, taking my seat on the bench in front of her. “I don’t see how any of this is relevant. I don’t need any money. I make my own and don’t care to talk to my father to find out.” If or when I even speak to my father again, it will take great strength not to murder him on the spot with my bare hands.

She puts her hands on her hips and sighs heavily. “You’re missing the point. You might not care about the money, but we both know Lucas Balfour does.”

“Okay,” I acquiesce.

“Will you stop saying okay? Cal, I’m just trying to piece all of this together. Don’t you want to figure this out? I thought you wanted a little bit of retribution. This is?—”

I grab her hips and pull her toward me. “Hey, relax. I still want all the same things, but right now, I just need my girl.” I rest my chin on her stomach and look into the pale blue eyes that own every piece of my soul. “I missed you. You were only supposed to be gone for two days—two days turned into a week. If you want to set the world on fire, blondie, I’ll hand you the damn match, but first, I need a kiss.”

Her expression softens as her hands rake through my hair, causing my skin to prickle with goose bumps. A small smile tugs at her mouth, and she bends down, closing the distance, her lips gently taking mine once before she murmurs against my mouth, “I missed you so much. I don’t know that I’m cut out for puck bunny life.”

“Well, that’s good because you’re not a puck bunny. You’re my whole world,” I answer before feverishly crashing my lips back to hers. Looking up and seeing her walk through the breezeway felt like an awakening. Without her by my side, I was just going through the motions. I’m not truly living unless I’m existing with her. Needing more, my hands slide down her hips until I have one on the back of each thigh and pull her into my lap so that she’s straddling me. I need to feel her. Holding her calms me and serves as a reminder that all of this is real. She’s really mine again.

I get to my feet with her wrapped around me, and her eyes widen as she tightens her hands around my neck. “What are you doing?” She says with a shrill. In three long strides I make it from the bench to the ice. “Cal, you know me and ice don’t mix.”

“I know,” I confirm.

Her eyes swing to mine. “Then why are you bringing me out here?”

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