Page 40 of Wrong Pucking Jersey

To think I was chosen to be on the newest team for this little town.

Strattonville Vipers.

The name alone made my heart gallop. Vipers were dangerous creatures, underestimated yet feared when noticed before it’s too late. They could snipe when you least expect it with the intention of ending their prey.

I wanted us to enter the hockey world with everyone thinking we’re not a team who will fight back. The underdogs who will rise to the top until the world is forced to acknowledge us rising stars.

Truthfully, I was doing my part. People were talking about me, about my record and achievements in various places. That’s what happens when you give yourself five years to travel and explore the world of hockey firsthand.

The first year was the hardest cause no one knew me. I had to pull out every connection my family had, which I’m grateful for. Without Dad in the picture, I wasn’t sure if my mother could help me in the world of sports, but she stood to the occasion and got me every fucking deal I needed to get this far.

She had been pissed when I admitted Mikayla and I were through. I know she knew just how much I loved her—even if I didn’t want to admit it. I used every excuse to get her off my back about it—we’re five years apart in age, she’s too young for me, she can find someone better, richer, a man with a stable job who isn’t chasing after dreams too big for his head.

Anything to excuse the reality.

I was madly in love with her.

Last night I’d asked what I’d been dreaming of for years.

Can we try again?

I didn’t think she’d answer me. I thought she was asleep. Yet, those words came out of her like a forbidden whisper.

“Let’s try again.”

God, I could have died there and then as a happy man. A foolish man who was madly in love with a woman who’s the daughter of the once famous Coach Johnson who coached the Toronto Maple Leafs.

Would he even approve of this?

He had watched the downfall of our love. How we split ways and couldn’t push ourselves to look back. He had to clean up the baggage left behind. That was all he could do, which was why I wasn’t sure how approving he would be if we admitted we were dating again.

There’s a quiet knock that makes me freeze.

“Mikayla. You’re going to have breakfast or not?”

Fuck.

I freeze up like in my younger days, the moment of realization hit me of the approaching confrontation with Coach Johnson. Only this time, the chilling stillness only lasts a few seconds.

That was the boy years ago who wasn’t confident in what he wanted.

Who I’d fight for.

“Mikayla.” Coach Johnson calls for his daughter again, only it follows with the rattle of the door, which I thankfully locked last night.

Deciding I better get up before the man tries to break into the attic, I move as slowly as I can not to wake Mikayla. She’s a deep sleeper, so I doubt she’ll wake, but when she stirs, I’m completely frozen.

“Five… more minutes,” she mumbles. “Maddox.”

Fuck…

I’m gonna be sporting a damn boner while facing my girl’s father after a night of fucking.

Which reminds me…

“Fuck,” I curse and try to find my underwear.

Bloody hell, I don’t know where I fucking put them, which leaves me shuffling to the one place I’m begging they’ll be a fresh pair.

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