Finding the Forward, Part One (HockeyVerse)

Chapter Forty-Three

Grif

C lark-the-rookie skated through the cones, his glasses secured with a strap, as he moved the puck down toward the goal. The goalies were in their practice, so no one was in the net. Instead, a board was set up like a carnival game with holes to shoot the puck through.

While Carlos and I meshed well the moment I met him at training camp, I’d first wondered if putting some rookie farm kid as center to our line was some sort of insult. It only took a couple of games for me to realize that Clark, Carlos, and I in a line together was a sound call.

Chaotic. But the good kind.

Clark flew through the cones with ease. Swish, click, swish, click. He took the shot, and the puck sailed through the top corner hole.

“Well done,” Coach Atkins called. “But watch your footwork.”

The wonder rookie was also more of an assists type of center, which was great, given I liked a side of goals while slamming guys into the boards. Clark skated off, high-fiving Carlos. Yeah, that kid was going places.

My turn. Even though fatigue pressed down on me from our late night, I brought it. Just because the Knights were currently happy with me didn’t mean I could get complacent.

Circling to pick up speed, I blasted between the cones, my skates slicing left and right as I worked the puck. Swish, click, swish, click. Flying out of the cone, I took a shot, aiming for the opposite corner. Crack. The puck shot through the hole and hit the back of the net.

“That’s what I like to see,” Coach Atkins told me, looking at one of our assistant coaches and nodding.

We finished, most of us filing off the ice, heading toward our next practice, meeting, or appointment. A few stayed back to work a little more.

“You write music? ” Coach Atkins came over to me, looking puzzled, as I headed to the locker room with Jonas at my shoulder.

“I did back when I was at the university,” I replied. Fuck. It must have hit the internet. But I’d told Professor Dublonski that they could put it on their socials.

“Kylee wants to see you,” Coach added.

“Yes, Coach.” I headed into the locker room to take off my skates and glanced at my phone. It was filled with texts, mostly mentioning me conducting my piece. My mom who taught me to play piano was annoyed that I hadn’t invited her.

My sister also texted.

Sissy

Airplane Girl is so pretty. I think she’s out of your league, lol.

Me

Don’t I know it.

My phone rang. Chet. Oh fuck.

“Hello?” I braced for my agent to say something about conducting.

“You need to dump the girl.” His voice went hard.

“Why?” I frowned. That wasn’t what I expected.

“She’s going to get you traded or tank your career. Dump her now. I'm fucking serious,” he told me, ending the call.

My heart thudded in my ears. He wanted me to do what?

Jonas put a hand on my shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“Chet says I have to dump Verity. While I’m not considering this, I don’t understand. How’s she going to get me traded? Did I miss something in my contract? Is there something we don’t know about her?” I felt sick to my stomach. Dumping her would be like stomping on my own heart.

“Don’t dump her. Dump Chet. I’m serious. I know you’re loyal, but he’s not doing a good job for you anymore. Sometimes I wonder if you’re such an undervalued player because of him. It’s time.” Concern covered Jonas’ face, his scent going sour.

“I don’t know,” I sighed. “We’ve been together for so long.”

“Think about it,” Jonas said.

True. After all, I was still a little upset that he’d never told me that Professor Dublonski had called.

My heart weighed heavily as I put on my sneakers and went up to the administrative offices on the third floor. Kylee, head of PR, was waiting for me.

“Hey, it’s not that serious,” she told me, as she sat at her messy desk in her cluttered office. Kylee was a no-nonsense beta in her early thirties. She pulled up a picture of me conducting. “In the future, please let me know before you conduct an orchestra with a piece you wrote. My phone has been ringing non-stop this morning. I didn’t know you did either of those.”

“I fucked up. Sorry.” My head hung, feeling like I was in the principal’s office for fighting.

“Hey, it’s fine, Grif. You didn’t fuck up. Honestly, this was cute. Tell me about your work?” she asked.

I told her a little about composing, music, wanting to possibly conduct again, and even the idea I’d had last night about establishing a music scholarship.

“That sounds great. You’ve already gotten some requests. Should I send them to your agent? Though, between me and you, I’ve gotten some complaints about him not calling people back,” she confessed.

My belly twisted, thinking about what Jonas had said. “Um, for now maybe give their information to me? Music isn’t Chet’s thing.”

“Great. Honestly, it would be fun to see you conduct a major orchestra for a charity concert. People see you as a bit of a tank that only softens for Dean, so this other side of you could be great for your image. Which brings me to Verity.” She pulled up a picture on her tablet. “Is it okay if the Maimers acknowledge you on social media? This is what they want to post.”

It was a picture of me and Verity on the bleachers, her arm around me, as we watched Mercy practice. It was so cozy and wholesome. The caption said Team Mom finding love on the ice is our favorite IRL sports romance.

“That’s adorable. I don’t have a problem with it, and I don’t think the guys will either. Let me check?” I dropped it in the group chat, wanting to include AJ.

“While there’s been some pictures of you and Verity online for weeks now, a picture went viral overnight. I’m guessing it’s her brother. The caption is a little... silly.” She laughed.

The picture she brought up was of last night. I was skating backward, and Verity looked up at me with adoration in her eyes as the snow fell. It was framed perfectly, with a light-covered tree in the background and strings of lights overhead. She looked adorable with that pom-pom beanie.

The caption said My sister finally found a boyfriend taller than her.

I laughed. “It’s a nice picture.”

“I like this one best.” She brought up a picture of all five of us skating together. Verity was in the middle, with Dean and me on either side, and I was skating backwards. AJ, also skating backwards, had his arm around me. Jonas, skating forward, linked arms with Dean. Snow fell and with the lights and decor in the background, it looked like the poster for a wholesome holiday rom-com.

“That’s my favorite, too,” I told her. “Anything else?”

“I know you and Dean have your paperwork on file, but make sure Jonas has his. I know how this goes. Just don’t break anything like Pauley and Nakey.” She smirked.

“I won’t. Thanks.” With a chuckle, I left. I’d heard those stories, like when they’d ruined one of SportsBeat’s cameras. Relief washed over me that I wasn’t in any trouble.

Going down to the second floor, I hunted for Jonas.

“Good. Now do it again,” Jonas’ voice said from someplace.

“Stop,” Verity growled.

The firm grumble made me pause in the hallway. It wasn’t a bark, but it was commanding.

“Focus, Verity. It’s about intent. Again,” Jonas told her.

Oh, they were having barking lessons. It meant a lot to me that he took the time to help her like that.

“Stop.” Her voice grew in volume and firmness. But it still wasn’t a bark.

I stood in the doorway of the dance room where the Maimers had some of their choreography practices. We also had yoga and shit in there.

“I’m never going to get it,” she sighed, shoulders slumping. Verity’s hair was up in a bun, and she wore leggings and...

... was that one of my flannel shirts? How did she get that? But I loved the way the blue and green plaid complimented her eyes. How the fabric draped around her body.

Yeah, she could wear my clothes whenever she wanted.

“You’ll get it.” Jonas brought her into his arms and held her close. “It’ll take time and practice, but I believe in you.”

Fuck, that was hot.

She looked over at me. “Hi Grif.”

“Hey, Kitten.” I hugged her to me. “Love the shirt.”

“It’s Dean’s. He brought it to me earlier with a chai latte so I wouldn’t be cold.” Biting her glossy lower lip, she smiled. “It smells like both of you.”

Jonas snorted. “It’s Grif’s shirt.”

“Oh.” She unbuttoned it.

My hand covered hers, stopping her. “I like you in my clothes, Kitten. It’s almost as good as seeing you without them.”

“I’m the alpha. Shouldn't you be wearing my clothes?” she giggled. The couple of undone buttons granted me a tantalizing look at her cleavage. Did she only have a sports bra on under it?

“I would love to see Grif in that dress you wore in Glitter City,” Jonas laughed, leaning against the wall of the dance studio.

Turning, I struck a pose. “I have the legs for it. Lessons going okay?”

Verity sighed and nestled back into my arms. “I’m trying to be a good alpha.”

I pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “That means everything, Kitten. But please know that I’ll love you even if you never figure it out.”

“Thank you.” With a smile, she let go of me and went over to the mirrors where her stuff sat. She picked up a cup and took a sip, then grabbed her phone.

Verity looked at it and sighed, her scent going salty.

“The parents didn’t like the pictures? I thought they were cute.” Jonas glanced at his phone and texted someone.

“Oh, Mumsy hates them. Dishonor on me. Dishonor on my pack. Dishonor on the cows.” Verity rolled her eyes. “Mama did, but now she’s all in my business about you. Dad says hi . But no...”

Oh? My belly twisted.

“What happened, Kitten?” I didn’t like the idea of someone being mean to her.

Wait, did she just call us our pack? Amazing.

Verity looked into my eyes and cupped my face with her hand. Her nails had snowmen on them. “I love you. I don’t regret us being so cute we’re photographic. But I forgot that loving you will bring the haters. I hate the haters.”

Shit. I hadn’t considered that random people would hate on her for dating us.

“Don’t read the comments,” Jonas told her, joining us.

“I know.” Her shoulders drooped. “But my friend Saphira reads all the comments, and some people don’t like that your pack chose a nobody like me.”

He got in her face and snarled, pinning her to the mirror in a smooth, fierce gesture. “We had this chat. You are not nobody. You don’t talk shit about yourself.”

“That’s hot,” Dean whispered, putting an arm around me.

Where’d he come from? He must be done with goalie shit.

“I know.” My dick grew hard as I watched them. Jonas’ reaction was a little strong. He probably wanted an excuse to touch her.

“She looks great in your shirt. You’re welcome.” He grinned at me.

“Document this shit, send it to me, then block and erase. Repeat as needed. We can always change your number or go to the police. Or both. Don’t take any of this to heart. We don’t let the assholes win. Understood?” Jonas’ voice rumbled with authority as his nose touched hers.

The room went awash with sexual tension. We could be seconds from seeing them kiss.

“Yes, Alpha Jonas.” Her gaze didn’t waver. Verity’s neck tilted with the slightest acquiescence.

He pressed his forehead to hers. “That’s my little alpha.”

“Jonas, don’t beat up my sister.” Mercy stood there looking smug.

“We didn’t ask for cockblocking, Mercy,” Dean teased.

“Yeah, I didn’t need to know that. But you are pop-blocking.” Mercy’s eyes rolled. “I came for the cake pops.”

Pop-blocking? Good one.

Mercy went over to the mirror and picked up a ribboned basket full of snowflake cake pops.

Jonas got off Verity and looked at her expectantly. “Send it to me now.”

“Yes, Alpha Jonas.” Verity did something on her phone. “Done. If we’re finished, I should get to campus. I’ll call you later. Have fun at the party tonight.”

No. Not really. It was a holiday party for Thunderbolt, the equipment company that sponsored me. At least AJ was my date.

“I’ll shield you from the haters the best I can, Kitten.” I held her tight, torn up at how this could affect her.

She gave me a kiss on the lips, then kissed Dean. Verity stopped in front of Jonas and kissed his cheek. Yeah, they wanted to fuck. With a wave, she left with Mercy.

“You and Verity should file paperwork with HR,” I smirked.

Jonas was frowning at his phone. “That’s a good idea.”

“Who was it?” I came over to Jonas.

“Hopefully, just some fan that wishes they were her.” He showed us the text.

Unknown

Stay away from them, you little whore.

Or else.

“Fuck, but it’s probably Derva or Freddie,” Dean replied. “I looked up what they said about her back when they were stirring up shit. Though they were all talk. She’ll be okay. Should we go workout, Grif?”

“Yeah, let’s workout. You’re right. It’s probably them.” For all our sakes, I hoped so.