COLTON
Standing in the kitchen, I wait for my coffee to brew. It’s game day, and I woke up at six a.m. I couldn’t sleep. I’m literally buzzing to be on the ice, even if my reasons are not at all professional. Bringing that motherfucker down is just as important as beating the Gladiators. I will do anything to make it happen.
I hear her tiptoeing from the bedroom, and my lips stretch into a giddy smile. She stayed the night even though I told her I would be up way earlier than usual. She said that would never stop her from being with me.
Little by little, she’s opening up to me. Talking nonstop about things she loves, her favorite books and movies, telling me stories about her childhood, sharing her dreams and plans for the future. I could listen to her for hours without getting bored. I talk to her too, not hiding even the tiniest thing. She knows about my childhood and my school years, about my fuckups and my little victories on and off the ice. Me taking her to visit my mom and her finally opening up to me about her ex changed everything.
“When you said you would be up early, I thought you were exaggerating.” Ava walks over to me, wraps her arms around my torso from behind, and presses her cheek to my back. She’s warm and smells like her favorite vanilla shower gel. The kind she bought and left in my bathroom, claiming more and more space in this apartment. Some guys would freak out, but I’m not-so-secretly loving it. I need her by my side every minute, because she completes me and makes me feel desired. “Do you want me to help you with breakfast?”
I glance at her over my shoulder, raking my gaze over her face and her disheveled braids. She’s still sleepy, and my heart swells with happiness. The way I feel about her overwhelms me and throws me off every damn time. She’s the best thing that’s happened to me in my entire life. “Nope, I’m taking care of you this morning.”
“Sounds promising.” Ava winks at me and steps back, ambling to the table and sitting down. “We have a few hours to spare before the game. What are we going to do?”
“Don’t you need to study?” I ask, pouring coffee into two mugs.
“Nope. I finished all my assignments on Thursday.”
“You definitely came prepared.” Turning around, I edge to the table and put our mugs on it. Then I go back, grab two bowls of oatmeal, and return to her. The second Ava sees what we’re having, she pouts.
“It’s not my favorite breakfast.”
“I know,” I laugh, grabbing a pack of M&Ms from the countertop. I rip it open and toss a few candies into our bowls. “Better?”
“M&Ms make everything better,” she tells me pointedly. She eats a spoonful, and when she starts smiling, I know she enjoys it. “Are you excited about the game?”
“I am, but I don’t want to talk about it. Not on game day. Consider it a superstition,” I state, and she eyes me with her eyebrow raised. “We all have our weird habits, Little Miss I Love Judging Others.”
Her mouth falls open, and her eyes round. She grabs a napkin from the table and throws it in my face. “I’m not judging you.”
“I know you aren’t; I’m teasing you.” I lick my lips, taking my mug in my hand. “How about we watch something?”
“Like what?”
“We can always watch something new, or continue with Game of Thrones.” The other day, she told me she hated me because I made her watch all the episodes from the beginning, while she wanted to skip everything till season four. “What do you say?”
“I say you love torturing me, Colton.” Ava shakes her head with a smile. “But okay, Game of Thrones it is. Jon Snow and Daenerys will always be my favorites.”
It’s a perfect morning. I’m hyped up about the game, anticipating our win and taking Jefferson down. That is, until I get a call from Dr. Stewart. He asks me about my plans to visit Mom tomorrow. He says she wants to talk to me, and it’s incredibly important.
“You okay?” Clay asks during our break before third period. I shake my head no, breathing through my nostrils. Pulling myself together has never been so hard before. I let my worries overwhelm me. It’s getting out of hand, even if we’re winning. “Anything I can do to help?”
“It’s fine. Thanks,” I mumble, gulping down my water.
Closing my eyes, I picture Ava’s beautiful face. She’s a wildfire that is out of control, intensifying with each heartbeat, with every breath she takes. Or she’s a small but gentle bonfire, spreading through every bone, blanketing me with her warmth. She wants to spend time with me, while she doesn’t need me at all. For some, it may sound like nonsense, but Ava helped me to draw a line between being wanted and being needed. It’s a huge difference, and my heart aches in my chest any time I realize she wants me by her side. And now I’m betraying her. The mess in my head is preventing me from thinking clearly, and her ex continues skating around the ice like a fucking star.
“Is this about Ava’s ex?” Clay leans closer.
“It has nothing to do with him.”
“Then what? Did you get into a fight with her?”
“For fuck’s sake, Rodgers. We’re good,” I hiss, standing up from the bench and towering over my best friend. “I got some news today about my mom, and it kinda turned my day to shit.”
Clay purses his lips, probably deciding if he should be angry with me for my outburst or not. I know the fucker like the back of my hand, and he’s too curious for his own good. “How is she? Is there any chance she’s getting better?”
What the fucking hell is this? Is this a prank? Or maybe I’m still sleeping? How on Earth does he know anything about my mom’s state? Ominous and oppressive thoughts take over every spot in my mind, and this never ends well.
“She’s okay. Her usual.” I pivot to the door as Coach motions us all back onto the ice. At least Clay’s questions did one thing: there is no way I’m letting that fucker Jefferson off the hook. I’m too wound up to play nice.
“Colt?” I meet Clay’s gaze. I only pray he won’t make things worse for me…unsuccessfully. He skyrockets my feelings to a level I never thought they could reach. “Just because I don’t say anything doesn’t mean I don’t know. I always loved Mrs. T, and I wish her only the best.”
He gets up from the bench and walks past me. I stay frozen. Never could I have imagined this day would be so bizarre. Failing on my plans to avenge Ava would be the final nail in my coffin. And hell no—that’s not happening.
The last period goes fast. We’re leading three to one, so we’re playing defense, planning ahead our moves and tactics, and it definitely works out. Our defensemen are doing their jobs to a tee, battling in the corners, making clean, crisp outlet passes and blocking shots. The support from the stands is like another player in our favor.
I watch Jefferson like a hawk, and once I finally see an opportunity, I go over, passing by Coach and getting his approval. Only three minutes left, but I want us to score. It will be epic if I can pull it off, taking him down and rubbing our win in his face. Dear God, please, after the morning I had, I definitely deserve some luck.
Skating over to Jefferson, I easily win the face-off, sending the puck flying in Benson’s direction. Gotcha. I’m back in my game, baby.
To say Ava’s ex isn’t happy is a major understatement. He puffs out his cheeks and slips away from me in silence. Really dude? Not even a word?
I stop him once again, snatching the puck and passing it to Moore. I hate the guy, but right now, he’s my teammate, and I need him.
“What the fuck do you want from me?” Jefferson growls as I glide past him.
“To make you pay for what you did to Ava.”
“It was her fault; she was just as drunk as I was. She shouldn’t have suggested we skate together.”
“It’s so easy to put the blame on a girl instead of admitting you were a coward. Would it have been that hard to call an ambulance?” I follow him while still keeping my eye on the game. If everything goes right, we’ll have a chance to score one more time.
“I was drunk as shit, and it could have jeopardized my career.” Good, he’s totally distracted. He isn’t paying attention to how close we are to his team’s net. I just need someone to pass to me. “You wouldn’t have called an ambulance if you knew your future could be stolen either.”
Forty seconds. Once I see the numbers, I feel my body surge with adrenaline. I desperately want to score, right in front of his eyes. I scan the place and see Benson. Our gazes lock, and he hits the puck rigorously, right into my stick. Man, you’re the best.
Moving like a flash, I maneuver among the players, and a second later I send the puck into the net, making the final score four to one. I lift my fist in the air, my eyes locked on Jefferson. His lips are curled into a snarl as he breathes hard. He’s pissed at me, and at himself for letting me play him.
Scooting over to him, I nudge him as discreetly as possible, and the dude lands on his ass. Hitting him in the face is tempting, but risking my career is not something I can afford right now. I can agree with him there.
“She must have fucked your brain up good if you’re so whipped,” he scoffs, standing up. “You should thank me though.”
“Thank you?” I smirk, seeing the guys celebrating our win and listening to the crowd cheering.
“Everything she does in bed, I taught her. I was her first.”
Stupid fucker, never knows when to keep his mouth shut. I step closer. Now we’re chest to chest. “Good thing I intend to be her last.”
Just as his eyes go wide in surprise, I hit him in his abdomen with all my might. Jefferson gasps and presses his hands to his belly, crumpling onto the ice.
“Try talking to her again, or touching her with even one damn pinkie, and I will ruin you. I promise.”
