Mind Pucked (Chicago Blue Jays #1)

Prologue

PROLOGUE

JACKSON

T here’s only hours left before the biggest game of the season. Hell, the biggest game of my life. For years, the Chicago Blue Jays have been so close to making it to the Stanley Cup. So close, even making it to the playoffs, but we’ve always failed out somewhere.

This year, we have a seasoned team, and we work together like no other. Sure, there are a few weak links. Some of the guys, I’d rather not be on a team with, but we make it work. We’re mature, we’re good players, and we’re a team.

I don’t know why I got here so early today. The locker room is quiet as I lean against my locker. I press my head against the cold metal and whisper encouraging words to myself under my breath.

A couple of the guys are here—Felix and Colin, they’re always early birds. And I think Stephen, our backup defense, is hanging around somewhere with his girlfriend. The flavor of the week. He’s the youngest of us, so it’s to be expected. Usually, we’d be razzing him about it, but we don’t want that kind of energy before this game.

Tonight, we play against the New York Knights. It’s the seventh game of the Stanley Cup finals, so this is the make-or-break moment. It will either be us up against the Miami Wave for the actual Stanley Cup, or it’ll be the New York Knights. And I fully intend on being the one who gets to kiss that sweet piece of metal and hold it in my hands when we reach victory.

I hear some noise coming down the hall. Finally, we might get some energy building in here. I hate it when it’s silent—it gets me in my head.

I expected Preston to be here early too, but he’s nowhere to be found. I could call him, but I’d rather not. He’s going to be a complete ass to me today, and I’m not looking forward to it no matter what kind of player he is. He’s my rival and one of the best enforcers on the team other than myself. It’s his job to talk shit. But he tends to do a lot of it off the ice too.

“Hey, looking somber in here. What’s up? What’s up?” Benjamin and Oliver burst through the door, shouting and waving their donut shop order in the air. It’s part of their pregame ritual. I bet the shop stayed open late just for them too. Such loyal customers. Plus, I think the owner has a thing for Benjamin.

I give them a sideways grin. “Are you sure you want to be having all that sugar right before a game like this?”

Oliver walks over and gives me a bro-hug, patting me on the back. “How else will I stay awake out there? This stuff’s the best fuel, baby.”

Benjamin’s already sitting down on the bench, digging in. Always hungry, that one. I guess most of us usually are. We’re big guys and need a lot of food to sustain us. I just don’t feel like eating much today—I’m afraid of throwing up on the ice.

“You look like hell,” Felix says, always Captain Obvious, as he starts putting on his equipment. A little early if you ask me, but the goalies are always something else. Way overprepared. But I suppose we need that now more than ever.

I shrug. “You know how it is. I always feel better once the game starts.” And it’s the truth. I’ve been this way for a good decade. Something about big games really works my stomach up. The closer we get to the playoffs, the more likely it is that I actually end up with my dinner all over the floor during the pregame ritual. I figured I’d do them all a favor and just not eat this time. Nothing to come up anyway. Nothing that isn’t water.

More team members start coming in, and we all watch as Luca and Kai switch shorts.

Oliver shoots them a look of disgust. “You guys seriously decided to go through with that?”

Luca’s face twists in anger, his fists clenched and ready for a fight like always. “What, you got a problem with it? I’m ready to go tonight. I suggest?—”

I walk up to him and place my hand on his shoulder, shaking my head. Luca backs off, but his arm veins are still popping out with the tension.

“You’ve seen it on TikTok—those game rituals really work. And Luca’s my rival, so why the hell not?” Kai says with a cocky grin, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I can’t believe you’re gonna do a pregame ritual from TikTok,” Felix comments.

Luca looks like he could kill, but I just laugh it off. His cocky grin and stance make it obvious that he doesn’t give a shit what anyone thinks as long as he’s a winner. “The joke’s on you when your rival ends up being the savior of the game. I do what I have to do for luck. What does it hurt?” he asks, smirking down at Felix.

Felix’s brow wrinkles. “Oh I have my rituals, but none of them involve swapping germs with someone else.”

Everyone starts getting ready, putting their pads and jerseys on. It’s getting closer and closer to game time, and my stomach makes terrible noises that only I can hear.

Everyone cringes as Felix pulls a pair of socks out of his locker. He grins, holding them up proudly. “Yeah, baby.”

“Shit, Felix. How long has it been since you washed those damn things?” Kai covers his nose and walks away as far as he can, which isn’t far considering the room is packed.

Felix pulls on his socks, which are looking a little worse for the wear. If I had to wager, I’d say they’ve probably never been washed.

“Haven’t washed these puppies since the first game of the season. Why would I ruin the luck, boys?” Felix wiggles the socks all around like a little kid. Everyone screws up their faces. “Take it in. This is the smell of victory. Better than someone else’s junk.”

That gets a laugh out of me, which is hard to do when I’m trying to get in the mood pregame.

However, a strange worry is starting to build. Everyone’s here, plus wives and girlfriends are starting to come in and out to wish us good luck, except for Preston. Where the hell is he?

I pull out my phone and send him a quick text.

As much as I want to look good without you here, this is not the night. Get the hell over here.

Hopefully, it’s threatening enough.

I tuck my cell into my locker and pull out my iPod. It’s old-school. I’ve had it since my senior year of high school, and it’s always served me well.

Five songs. Five songs are all I have on this thing, the same five songs I listen to before every game. I pop in my headphones, and I let the world around me fade away. I have just enough time to listen to my music before Coach comes in here to give us a pep talk. The one where he basically tells us it’s okay if we don’t win, but he expects us to win.

I close my eyes and bob my head to the music, getting completely lost in it. It’s a good mix of EDM, rock, and classical. Something for every part of my mood and every part of my nervous system. I actually put a hell of a lot of research into this playlist.

The noise around me grows louder as I get to the last song and more and more family members come in and out. Coach is good about letting us see our loved ones before the game. Especially at big games like this. He believes that instead of a distraction, it gives us motivation.

It’s one of the things I love about him, and it definitely sets him apart.

As I’m putting my headphones away, there’s a tap on my shoulder. I turn around to find Quinn, Dean’s wife, surrounded by three children.

Two are her own, a little boy and a little girl. And one is the most beautiful little girl in the world— my little girl.

I smile down at her and reach to pick her up as she lifts her arms and rises onto her tiptoes to try to reach toward me, even though she’s not even two yet. Not for another two weeks.

I lift her up into my arms and give her a big kiss on the cheek, then look at Quinn. “I’m guessing Lyla’s not here yet?”

Quinn shakes her head. “Sorry. I haven’t heard from her or seen her yet. But don’t worry—she’s not going to miss this game. Even if her boss is an ass.”

Quinn rolls her eyes and goes over to see Dean. They share a deep kiss as I tickle Hayden’s side.

She rubs her hand across my stubble, and my heart has never felt more full than in this moment. This is exactly what I needed before the game. But it would be nice to get to see Lyla too.

In fact, Lyla’s kind of our lucky charm. Ever since I married her, she’s always come back here and made everyone feel good before the games. And she’s always got something freshly baked to offer everyone. Only this time, her new boss made her work.

It’s been hard since she started this new job. She’s been working long hours and dealing with some discrimination and all kinds of bullshit. I’ve offered to go beat their asses, but she won’t let me.

I give Hayden another kiss and pass her to Quinn as she’s on her way out. “Be good for Aunty Quinn, okay?” I tell her and she blows me a kiss.

She nods, letting me know that of course she will be a perfect angel. She always is.

Along with Quinn and the kids, any remaining family members filter out of the locker room. The pregame energy’s hitting, and everyone is somber. I don’t know if it’s because of what’s at stake, or the fact that one of our best players, Preston, still hasn’t shown his damn ugly face.

Coach comes in, hitching up his pants like he always does. He squints his eyes, making eye contact with every one of us at least twice before saying anything.

“Does anyone happen to know where the hell that cocky asshole Preston is? Of all the games to miss…”

Everyone shakes their head and mutters that they don’t know.

“Well, we’re going to get ready anyway. Because this is our game. Isn’t it, boys?”

We all scream in unison, fists pumping in the air. We start chanting and high-fiving, five minutes before the game. Preston has five minutes to show up.

Luca looks happy about it, hoping he gets to come in instead. But dammit, I was hoping he wouldn’t. He’s such a hothead, we’re likely to get way too many damn penalties with him.

I squeeze through the crowd of players and pull him in so I can whisper in his ear. “Please, man, keep it under control—don’t fuck this up today.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he says, not even looking at me.

Great .

If I get ahold of Preston after this, and I find out he had no good reason to miss, like him or a family member dying, I’ll kill him myself. I may hate the bastard, and I may wish that I had the team to myself sometimes, but this is a time when we need him most.

Everything goes completely dead silent. Dean is kissing a rabbit’s foot, and some other players are praying. Anything at all to give us an extra edge on this game.

I take seven deep, slow breaths, feeling every part of me relax. I visualize myself out on the ice. How smooth I’m going to skate. How easy it’s going to be to get that puck into the goal. How simple it’s going to be to slam every bit of aggressive competition against the wall and take them out.

I imagine looking up into the crowd and seeing Lyla and Hayden—flustered, cheering me on, and wearing my jersey.

This game will be perfect. It’s all going to be fine.

“Okay, boys, time for the ice.”

Coach motions for us to head out and we all get into a line, skating out to a roaring crowd. The stadium is full, other than a couple seats and a few stragglers.

I try to find Lyla, but I don’t see her yet. I do see Quinn, right next to my girl who’s cheering hard, though she probably doesn’t even know what she’s cheering for.

That’s okay. She’ll wear my jersey one day too.

The buzzer goes off, and we start the game without Preston. The game flies by. Everything is a blur, and I let my instincts take over. I only have to slam someone once. The New York Knights are playing a clean game. It makes me nervous, actually. I feel like I need more bodies to slam every time I look up and can’t find my wife.

No Preston. No Lyla.

Somehow I keep my head in the game, and we’re winning when we get to halftime.

I pull my helmet off, heading back for a break and a lot of water. Dehydration is overtaking me as I work hard to make this game the game of a lifetime.

The sound of a throat clearing pulls me out of my thoughts, and I turn around to see Coach with his hands on his hips, standing next to a police officer.

I can feel the blood draining from my face. I don’t even know if I want to know what this is about.

“Is it Lyla?” I say, my tone quiet and deep, barely above a whisper.

A few other players are looking on, but Coach takes me into his office and tells me to sit.

“Will someone just tell me what the hell is going on?” My temper flares.

“Lyla is your wife, correct?” the officer asks.

“Yes, what do you want?” I don’t mean to be so short, but I hate when people act like this. They never get to the damn point. I want to know what the hell is happening with my wife.

“Your wife has been in an accident. A pretty bad car accident. She was unconscious at the scene and taken to the hospital. She’s got some severe injuries. I know you’re in the middle of the game, but if I were you, I might get myself to the hospital too.”

For a moment, I can’t do anything but stare. It’s as if I can’t process the information I’m being given.

Lyla was in an accident. Lyla is not here. Lyla is in the hospital. Lyla has bad injuries.

I repeat it to myself until it actually starts to sink in.

“But you said she’s alive, right?”

The officer nods, but the look on his face is a bit grim. So she must have some pretty bad injuries after all.

“Do you have any information you can give me about her condition or about the accident?” I ask, knowing I’m about to make the hardest decision I’ve ever had to make.

The officer shakes his head. “I was the one sent here to make sure you got the news. A couple of my colleagues are on the scene, gathering evidence and getting the report down. I can send one of them to meet you at the hospital with more information. Do you plan on going now or after the game?”

I look at Coach as if he’s going to give me the answer. His face softens. I can tell he feels sorry for me, but he’s not going to give me the answer.

“Coach, do you need me?”

He purses his lips and shifts uncomfortably next to his desk. “Jackson, of course I need you. Not gonna lie about that. You’re our best defender. Especially with Preston gone too. But…”

I slam my fist on the desk. “But what?”

I’m dying here, and I think he knows it.

“I can’t make this decision for you. But if it was my wife, you know where I’d be. Team, game, be damned.”

I look back at the officer. “Can you give me just a few minutes to think? I just need a few minutes.”

The officer nods and makes room for me to leave. I go back into the locker room, where everyone watches me as I punch my locker over and over again until my knuckles split open.

Dean and Benjamin come up to me and push me down onto the bench. They sit on either side of me, Dean watching me as Benjamin questions, “What’s going on? Is this about Preston or Lyla?”

I’m barely even thinking about Preston at this point. For all I know, he’s blown hockey off entirely, sick of being my rival or some shit. Maybe I offended him somehow, or Coach did. I really don’t fucking care. “Lyla,” I manage to croak out.

“What did they say?” Dean asks, trying to coax it out of me. “We can’t help you if you don’t tell us.”

Normally I’d say something shady about not needing their help, but this is not the time for that. “There was a car accident. Really bad. She’s in the hospital, and the officer wants to know if they need to send his colleague now or later to talk to me when I get there.”

Benjamin nods. “So, you’ll have to leave the game.” Not a question, but a statement.

“Yeah, but can I really do that? You need me. And Preston’s not here either.”

I clench my fists and tighten my jaw, but it’s Dean who pulls me out of it.

“Look, we’ve got this. Kai or Andrew, they can fill in. Kai’s been dying to show off. You know we won’t lose this game. What the team needs is for you and Lyla to be okay. We all love her.”

I feel a damn tear escape my eye and roll down my cheek.

No, I can’t think negatively. Lyla will be fine.

“Look, I’ll go tell Quinn what’s going on before we go back to the game,” Dean says. “She’ll take care of Hayden as long as necessary. We’ve got this. You need to go to your wife.”

I look at Dean, grateful for the brothers I have on the team. People who have become family to me. I don’t have that much, outside of Lyla and Hayden. But these guys, they make up for it.

“Thank you,” I manage to croak out, and then I’m grabbing my things and taking off in a run.

When I get to the hospital, I feel incredibly lucky that I wasn’t pulled over or in a car accident myself. I was going much too fast for anyone’s comfort, weaving in and out of traffic. Because of the accident, and all the traffic from the game, it was a nightmare.

This whole thing is a nightmare.

I don’t even bother locking my car, rushing into the emergency room and telling the lady at the desk my name and my wife’s name.

“Sir, you really should wait your turn.”

I shake my head. “I just quit playing in a finals hockey game because a police officer told me my wife was in a bad car accident and I needed to get here immediately. So, I think it’s my turn.”

She purses her lips at me and then types something into the computer. At least she’s doing what I’ve asked.

“She’s still in triage. All I know is that she’s in critical condition right now. You need to go to the waiting room. Over there.” She points to a room down the hall behind her, just next to the restroom.

“Someone will come tell you what’s going on as soon as they can. But be warned, it’s been a busy night.”

I scoff, lurching off to the waiting room. Even the tiny room smells like the hospital. There’s some kind of talk show rerun on the television that hangs in the corner, and there’s some sludgy coffee and tea sitting on a tiny table with one of those dollar-store tablecloths.

I sit down in one of the chairs, barely fitting with my stature, and I wait.

I bite my nails, my leg bouncing up and down with anticipation.

Come on, come on.

It’s driving me crazy not knowing what’s going on with Lyla. I haven’t seen hide nor hair of a doctor or a police officer. What the hell was the point of me even being here?

Then, a man in a white coat walks in. He has dark hair, and a crooked nose like it’s been broken too many times.

I stand up and walk toward him. “How’s Lyla?” I ask. He looks startled, having to look up a significant amount to reach my face. If I had a dollar for every time I intimidated a professional because of how built I am, I’d be so much richer than I already am.

“Lyla is your wife?”

I sigh and nod, sick of the question.

“Your wife…” No. I don’t like the pause. What does that mean? “Your wife had many injuries. Several burns and contusions to her chest. And the force of impact caused injuries to the back of her head. Between the blunt force trauma and the severity of the burns, there was nothing we could do. She didn’t make it. I’m so sorry.”

My world begins to spin around me like I’m caught in a tornado. Every moment I’ve ever had with Lyla. Every game. The birth of our daughter. And then it all collapses into a big pile of rubble.

“But the officer told me…she was alive at the scene…”

The doctor places his hand on my arm, daring to bridge that gap even in the state I’m in. I have to give him some respect for that. “I’m so sorry. I know there’s a police officer waiting for you out in the lobby as well. He just finished getting my statement.”

“She’s gone?”

He nods. “Yes, sir. You’re welcome to come say goodbye if you like.”

Until water starts dripping into my mouth, I don’t realize I’m already crying. I nod and follow the doctor past curtains with people behind them. People who are still getting treatment for whatever emergency. People who get to live. People who are not my wife.

Then, he brings me behind the curtain where she’s lying on the bed. She could be sleeping if it wasn’t for all the bruises and burns on her. I can even tell just from her neck and her face how much trauma she’s been through.

“I’ll give you a moment.” The doctor shuts the curtain on us and leaves us alone.

I approach the bed, almost afraid to touch her. She looks so fragile and in pain I’m afraid I’ll hurt her, the fact that she’s gone and can’t feel anything not really sinking in yet.

Then, I start bawling like a baby. I grab her hand under the sheet, and I run my other hand through her beautiful hair. “How the hell am I supposed to explain this to Hayden? You were supposed to be there to see her grow up. To see her get married. How can you leave us alone like this?”

But of course, I get no answer. She’s nearly cold, and her spirit’s not here anymore.

I hope she gets to be at peace. I hope I can find a way to move on and make Hayden’s life a good one, even without her mom. I hope we make her proud.

I give her one last kiss on the forehead and walk out, looking for the officer who’s going to give me answers about how the hell this happened.

I head out into the lobby and instantly spot him. “So, what caused the accident? What do we know?”

“You’re Jackson, I take it?” he asks in a monotonous tone.

“Obviously.”

“Your wife was found alive at the scene. The passenger door was hanging open, but the passenger was never found. Though, there was blood on the dash. Whoever it is, they can’t have made it too far. We’re checking other hospitals and getting a search out there. We’re hoping the passenger knows more about what happened, but the car seemed to have some kind of brake malfunction. And then it was engulfed in flames. We’re still investigating.”

There was another person in the car. Someone who left Lyla alone to suffer while they ran off. Who the hell was it, and what the hell is wrong with them?

“If you give me your number, we can let you know as soon as we know more,” he says.

I nod, trying to keep it together, knowing that I’m going to have to go tell Hayden that her mom is never coming home. And I’m going to have to sleep alone tonight.