Page 4 of The Puck Player

Now it’s my turn to scoff. “Please, I am richer than every man who attended tonight combined, why the fuck would I need their business?”

My father only smirks, that prideful look that is always present in his stare, shining a little brighter than normal at my response, before he asks, “Are you heading back to campus tomorrow?”

I nod, finally meeting his gaze. “Yeah, Coach wants us back early so we can go over our training schedule to get ready for regionals.”

“Ah, that’s right, you’ve got the Frozen Four coming up soon,” my father replies with a nod, already knowing this information, because despite always being busy with work, he still always knows what’s going on with my life.

“If we make it through,” I start, knowing our place isn’t guaranteed, not yet anyway, but my father cuts me off.

“Alexander, I’ve seen your team play, there is no question you are making it through, especially with Nova at the helm.” His tone is all business, and I can’t help but smile.

My father is the kind of CEO who knows everyone’s name. From the people who line his boardroom, to the ones who clean his offices, and I’ve always admired that about him. He hasn’t even met half of my team, but if I’ve mentioned them, then he remembers them, and their position, and I love him for taking an interest, even when he has barely seen me play.

Ice hockey is something I picked up as part of my required sport option at the first boarding school I attended, but I quickly grew to love it, and though my father has never understood my love for the game, he has always supported it.

“Yeah, he’s a great captain,” I reply, before quickly adding, “We do have a great team this year, I think our chances are better than they ever have been,” I add, and he only nods.

“Good, now get to bed, your mother wants to cook you breakfast before you leave tomorrow.”

“Cook?” I ask, raising my eyebrows, and he laughs.

“Okay, she wants to serve you breakfast that Glinda will make for you,” he switches up, and I laugh. Glinda is our housekeeper, and an amazing chef, but despite her best efforts, her talents have never rubbed off on my mother, and I love her, I do, but I don’t love burnt bacon.

“Sounds great, catch you in the morning.”

When I finally get to my room, I strip out of my suit and take a quick shower, checking on my investment portfolio before uploading the security footage I paid for onto my screen. Then I watch on repeat as I rescue the little pink pocket rocket, her eyes flaring wide with annoyance as I toss her over my shoulder and carry her back to her friend. My stare is transfixed on the wide set of her hips, and how her dress clings to her ample chest. Fuck. She’s even better than I remember, and my cock thickens in my sweats at the sight of her.

I have to find her.

I don’t know how, or when, or even where, but as I wrap my hand around my cock and begin to stroke myself to the sight of her, I know one thing for sure. I’m going to hunt her down and make her mine.

Watch your back, trouble, I’m coming for you, in more ways than one.

The town of Fairfield looks like a fucking postcard. I’m not kidding. The buildings are all different shades of pastels, the houses have white picket fences, and the main street is a mixture of small businesses that you would only find in a town like this. It’s the kind of place you find in those perfect small town movies or romance books, and I half expect a cowboy turned firefighter to run in front of my car while saving some damsel in distress. That thought has me rolling my eyes as I come to a stop sign, checking my maps app for the tenth time since I rolled past the town welcome sign.

I’ve been here plenty of times before, but I was always driven by my mom or dad, never paying attention to the roads or buildings. In my defense, I never envisioned myself having to drive my car filled with all my earthly possessions across thestate to live here. Checking my phone for the address again, I flick my stare between the map and where I am, when my eyes land on a small white church across the road from me. Churches are somewhere I spent most of my childhood, from nightly masses to Sunday school, they have always been my solace, but I haven’t stepped foot in one in almost six weeks. Not since my grandmother’s funeral.

I always thought my faith was unwavering. That no matter what anyone said or did, it wouldn’t change my belief that it’s all part of some bigger plan. Then my mom died. Some drunk driver slammed into her car, killing her instantly, and it was then I started to question things. I tried to remain strong, I did, everyone told me she was in a better place, that God wouldn’t give me challenges I couldn’t overcome, but I felt my trust in everything falling apart. Ben tried to console me, to help me pack up her things and move them to my grandma’s house, all the while telling me how proud he was of me. How God was watching me and good things were coming next, and then my grandma died, and the last bit of faith I had was obliterated completely.

Instead of focusing on my new life at the local college, I was attending funerals, dealing with lawyers, and packing up two houses. It’s hard enough losing someone, never mind two someones, but to see their lives be reduced to just the things they owned, well, it’s a bitter pill to swallow. Ben couldn’t understand why I couldn’t find peace and acceptance in God, but then again, he doesn’t understand much lately. Apparently I’ve changed, and it isn’t good for us, but why can’t he see that I didn’t choose to change? The loss of the two most important people in my life rearranged my entire being into someone I don’t even recognize myself, and if that wasn’t enough, I then had to move my entire life to a town I have never considered home. I lost my mother,my grandmother, the only two homes I have ever truly known, all my friends, and the life I thought I was going to have.

How can I keep the faith when everything else has been ripped away from me?

Pulling my eyes from the church, I focus back on the map on my phone and find that my destination is just a few streets over, so I toss it back to my passenger seat and start driving again. It doesn’t take me long to find the apartment building my dad gave me the address of, and I come to a stop outside, parking in one of the available spaces. Apparently, one of the guys on his team gave him the heads up that his girlfriend was looking for a new roommate, and well, here I am. My dad has a room for me at his house, but I knew if I had to come here that I would need my own space to grieve, and well, this apartment is as good as it gets.

Climbing out of my car, the only things I grab are my phone and my backpack, not bothering with any of the other stuff yet, heading straight inside to try and find the apartment that is going to be my home for the foreseeable future. The inside is nice enough, a little damp in places with some chipped paint, but nothing too concerning, and when I reach the fourth floor, I’m pleasantly surprised to find a cute little daisy-covered doormat in front of the door marked 4B. Surely the owner of such a mat has to be just as pleasant, right?

Inhaling a deep breath, I raise my hand and knock firmly on the door three times, instantly hearing a melodic voice shout through the door, “Just a second.” It's another ten-seconds before the door flies open, and I am greeted by a petite girl with short black hair. “Please tell me you’re Aubree,” she greets me with an exasperated smile, and I can’t help but smile back as I nod and hold out my hand for her to shake.

“Actually, my friends call me Bree,” I reply gently, and she nods in response, grabbing my hand, yet instead of shaking it,she uses it to yank me inside, instantly dragging me through the living room to the kitchen. We move so fast that I barely even have time to check out my surroundings.

“Bree, please tell me you have enough strength to open this jar of damn pickles,” she curses, bringing us to a stop beside a huge jar, and I can’t help but smile, as she steals my bag from me and hands me the jar. When I do nothing but stare between her and the jar, she adds, “Please, I’m due my period any second and the only thing that will stop me from throwing myself out of the window is one of those pickles.”

I stifle a laugh as I try my strength at the jar, and when it pops open on the third try my new roommate squeals, ripping it back from my hands and immediately diving in. I watch her closely as I wipe my hands on my jeans, “You’re Evie, right?” I ask, wanting to confirm that she is in fact my new roommate, and she nods her head around the pickle she is currently shoving into her mouth.

“That’s me,” she chokes, as another knock sounds on the front door that she left wide open, and both our heads snap towards it.

“Babe, you here?” A masculine voice calls through the apartment and she instantly rolls her eyes.

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