BLAZE: Enemies to Lovers College Hockey Romance by Eddie Cleveland (ebook reader macos .txt) 📕

I figure when he does wake up, he’s going to be hungry.

It doesn’t take long to get my stuff on and drive my car down the road. My nerves are just starting to settle when my phone rings and my console shows me the name of the caller: Coach Wilson.

Shit.

I hit the button on my steering wheel that takes the call over the speaker. “Um, hello?”

“Hello, Ms. Stevens. Sorry to bother you.” Coach Wilson sounds concerned.

“No bother.”

“You don’t have Blaze with you, do ya?”

My heart thuds inside my rib cage, and I have to remind myself to keep my eyes on the road. Does he know? How does he know?

“Blaze? No, why?” My voice might sound innocent, but a sinner’s guilt swirls inside me.

“Damn. I was hoping you knew where he was. He seems to be MIA. I’m trying to get some urgent news to him. Did he say where he was going after the hospital?”

“No.” My voice tightens with the lie. “I, uh, haven’t seen him since then.”

I’m kind of throwing Blaze to the wolves here. I don’t want Coach Wilson to worry that he’s off doing something that’s going to bring trouble to our lives. “By the way, he did a fantastic job at the hospital today.” I can’t help but gush a bit.  “The kids adored him.”

The tension eases from my body when I remember him making those balloon animals for the children. Blaze was such a natural with all of them. He’ll make a good dad.

Whoa, what? Babies? Blaze as a father? I need to calm my ovaries and cool my jets.

“I heard. That’s why I’m trying to get a hold of him. The hospital was so impressed, they called the board. My meeting this afternoon was all of ten minutes. Blaze’s suspension got cut short! He’s in the next game!”

I pull into the coffee shop drive-thru lane. “Seriously? That’s amazing.” I’m all smiles.

My phone buzzes, and a text pops up on my screen. I’m just idling here, waiting to get to the order screen, so I pick it up and read it.

Blaze: RU fucking kidding me? Where ru?!?

“Actually, Coach, Blaze is calling me on the other line.”

“Really? You can give him the good news, Ms. Stevens. It’s because of you that this worked out anyway. You did such a great job with him. Tell him to call me, will ya?”

“I will,” I promise.

“Thanks.” As soon as we hang up, I immediately call Blaze.

“Waking up in someone else’s room by yourself is weird enough.” He jumps right in. “But when the whole house is empty…”

“I’m getting some coffee and donuts. For you too. Listen, I’ve got something important to tell you.”

“I can’t believe you snuck out on me.” He steamrolls over me, incredulous. “You know sneaking out on your hook-up only works if you’re leaving their place.”

“I didn’t sneak out.” I slowly roll the car forward a bit, but I’m still not at the order screen.

“You’re obviously bad at this…” Blaze keeps going.

“Blaze! Your suspension is over. You’re in the next game!” I can’t keep the news in anymore. It explodes out of my mouth.

“What? For real?” He sounds like he’s afraid I might be pulling his leg.

“Yes.” I laugh. “And, Coach Wilson wants you to call him. He’s really happy about the work you did at the hospital.”

“That’s fucking great.” He sounds like he might be jumping around. “Oh, shit. I’ve missed a bunch of texts and calls from him. Something must have distracted me.” His voice drops, and a shiver runs over my skin even though my car is warmed up.

“You have to call Coach! And get some clothes on in case my mom comes home early.”

“Fine, but are you going?” he asks.

“Where?”

“With us. To the next game.”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Good.” I can hear the smile in his voice.

“Awww, you want me at your game?”

“No, I want to tie you to your hotel bed. That way, you can’t sneak out after I fuck you.”

Heat dances over my entire body. I know he’s just saying that to get a reaction, but the image that takes over my mind sends pulses of excitement through me. My thighs squeeze and my grip on the steering wheel tightens. I force the thoughts out.

“There won’t be any tying up because there won’t be any hooking up.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll keep it on the low.”

“We’ll see.” I don’t really want to say no. “Now, get your clothes on and call Coach Wilson. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.” I hang up before he can put any more dirty images in my head.

18

Prissy-Whipped Blaze

This isn’t our rink, but Coach Wilson is making sure this floor never forgets his feet. He’s pacing the tread off his shoes behind us. Canuck hasn’t let a single goal slip by the entire game. We’re up by one, and every single guy sitting on this bench with me is dying to make it two.

A win clinches our spot in the final tournament. It would completely turn this year around for us. There’s a lot riding on this game. Like, the entire hockey teams’ hopes and dreams.

The crowd stomps and whistles. The cold air snaps my skin like a rubber band. Our team is playing as slick as grease, and our goalie is going for a fucking shut out. I’m praying I get back out on the ice before the clock runs out. With just under five minutes left, it’s looking less likely. A win would still be amazing. Even if I’m on the bench.

“Blaze, Gucci, you’re in!” Coach Wilson barks. He waves impatient circles as we swap out our positions on the ice.

The sharp edge of my blades nick the ice, and my focus completely shifts. The crowd disappears. The other players become faceless shadows. Even Prissy is gone. I promised Player I’d leave it all out on the ice so that’s exactly what I’m gonna do. My mind has one singular focus: the puck.

I chase it down, carving up the ice