Push (Colorado Storm Hockey #3)

Chapter 10

10

HUX

I’m on the ice, but my mind is elsewhere. The puck slides past me, and I’m a step behind in my defensive position. Coach blows the whistle, and I curse under my breath, knowing I’m not giving my best today.

“Hux, get your head in the game!” Coach Bliss yells from center ice, his frustration clear.

I nod, trying to shake off the distracting thoughts of Adaline. I focus on the drill, but my movements feel sluggish, and my passes lack their usual precision.

After a particularly sloppy play, Coach calls me over. “What’s going on with you today?”

I sigh, wiping the sweat from my brow. I’m not going to explain anything. I just shake my head and say, “I’ll get it together.”

He eyes me skeptically, but nods. “See that you do. This is probably your last season on the ice. Don’t go out any other way than a champion.”

I give him a respectful nod and do my best to pull my shit together, but I still don’t perform to what’s expected of me.

As practice ends and we head to the locker room, I’m still lost in my head. I sit in my stall, unlacing my skates, when I feel a tap on my shoulder. I look up to see our captain, Mac, with a goddamn look of concern. Great.

“Hey, man, you okay? You seemed a little out of it today,” he says, taking a seat beside me.

I hesitate, not sure how much I want to reveal. Usually I don’t want to reveal anything. But the weight of my thoughts is becoming too much to bear alone. “I’ve got some stuff going on, Mac. It’s complicated.”

He nods, waiting for me to continue.

I take a deep breath. I guess I’m going to do this, right here, right now. “Remember that girl I met in Vegas? Adaline?”

“The one you married on a whim?” he asks, his voice laced with amusement.

I let out a low growl. “Keep it down, fucker.”

“My apologies. So what’s the latest?”

“I agreed to be her date to her cousin’s wedding.”

“Wait, I thought you were getting an annulment?”

“Eventually.” I reply nonchalantly.

“But you’re dating your wife, man.”

I scowl at his teasing tone. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Mac raises an eyebrow. “Does Debbie know about her?”

My chest tightens at the mention of my ex-wife. “Yes, and why does that matter?”

“How did she react?”

“She was hurt, but it didn’t stop her from hitting me up to help her out with some things around her house.”

Mac shakes his head in disbelief. “And you actually went over there and helped her?”

I shrug without any real emotion. “It just makes sense to do it this way. Why waste Debbie’s money when I can handle it myself?”

Mac stays quiet for a little too long. Then, he directs words at me I never want to hear. “I’m worried about you, Hux. ”

“Stop. I’ve got everything under control.”

“I would normally believe that, but when Debbie is involved, things tend to get complicated for you,” Mac reminds me.

“Debbie is not involved in this at all. She’ll soon have our marriage annulled and marry that idiot.”

“Wait, what?” Mac asks, and I realize I just dropped a bomb on him. “You’re annulling both marriages?”

“Yes,” I confirm.

Mac raises an eyebrow in surprise. “Both? How can you and Debbie get an annulment after being married for years?”

“It’s a church annulment. She wants to remarry in the church, and you know how strict Catholics can be. It’s not a big deal.” It is a big deal, obviously. It led me to marry Adaline for revenge.

Mac gathers his things for the shower. “I never knew you to be a liar, Hux. I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

I sit there, stunned by his blunt accusation. Mac’s words hang heavy in the air. But I push aside the guilt creeping up inside me and force a smirk on my face.

“Did Debbie’s request for an annulment bother me?” I respond. “Yes, initially it did. But that feeling is over. Simple as that,” I say, trying to sound convincing.

He gives me a long look before shaking his head and heading toward the showers without another word. As the sound of running water fills the locker room, I’m left alone with my thoughts, the weight of our conversation pressing down on me like a ton of bricks.

Mac knows more about my relationship with Debbie than anyone else in my life. As my road trip roommate, he heard his fair share of the problems firsthand. Debbie was never meant to be a hockey wife and I know now it’s not for everybody. The road trips, the rumors about sleaze balls like my teammate Smitty, who cheats on his wife Brandi every chance he gets. Although rumor has it she likes to return the favor.

Regardless, I never once strayed from Debbie. I would never cheat on a partner. But that didn’t matter to her. She got into her own head about it and would often freeze me out for weeks at a time. Other times she would rage about it and do stupid things, like cutting up my favorite Juniors jersey, the first one from when I started in that league. I always considered it to be the symbol of my freedom from dad and she cut it into shreds.

I walked away from her that time. That was the only time I did. I was willing to question the vows I had made to her that day in the forest. But I didn’t last long without her. I found my way back and begged for her forgiveness for leaving.

A team therapist told me that I’d found my way into another abusive relationship.

I’ll admit, at first, I laughed in his face. Me? Abused by my little wife? No way. But then he prodded further. How did I feel about the way she talked to me? Was I able to voice my own opinions without backlash from her? Did I feel like I was walking on eggshells around her? And if the answer was yes to most of these questions, then there was some emotional abuse going on. But I couldn’t accept that. Not from Debbie. So I never went back to see him.

Debbie turned out to be the one who ended it. She asked me to move out, and I moved to the property up in the mountains and took in Max. We were two strays that became best friends. It took ages for our divorce to be finalized as we backslid more than a few times, especially around the holidays and the off season. But every time it ended the same way, because she wanted someone who would be at home every night for dinner and someone to hold her every night before she fell asleep. Well, apparently she found the man for the job.

I’ve only recently been able to see glimpses of how life without her is better and to recognize how toxic we were to each other. It’s been slow progress with emotional backslides on my end.

And then I met Adaline and felt a nudge.

Sure, I married her because of Debbie. That has nothing to do with it.

But I hadn’t even kissed another woman in years until I kissed Ada in the pub. And it was different. And the way she kissed me the last time we saw one another was different, too. I think in a good way. But overall, it’s confusing and distracting in a bad way because I need to be on my game.

I shower quickly, change, and head out into the cool evening air, the dark sky above me serving as a reminder of the darkness clouding my mind. As I walk to my car, I wonder if I’m juggling too much on my plate between Adaline, Debbie, and the looming decision I have about my future in hockey. I start the engine and drive home.

I need space. I need quiet. I need the outdoors.

As I pull up to my house, Max bounds over from the woods to greet me. He has the freedom to wander wherever he pleases, yet he always stays within the boundaries of my property. “Hey there, buddy,” I say, ruffling his fur and scratching behind his ears. When I get inside, I make sure his automatic feeder and waterer are filled and ready for my upcoming road trip. Smart collars and blue chip doggy doors are the greatest invention of the past ten years.

I retrieve a steak from the refrigerator and season it with a blend of spices I’ve perfected over the years. Then I make my way to the fire pit to get the heat going for cooking.

Sitting by the crackling fire, I watch the tendrils of smoke stream upward in the cool night air and get lost in thought. Max settles down next to me, his gaze fixed on the flames.

When the fire is hot enough and the grill is glistening, I drop the steak onto it and smile a little at the satisfying sizzle it makes. Cooking has always been soothing to me. It takes the perfect amount of focus to stop thinking of everything else. But my thoughts don’t stay away for long. I’m pissed off about how I showed up at practice today. Distraction on the ice is never good. And Ada is most certainly distracting, especially with this wedding invitation. I worry that I’m on the edge of something really messy with her. Hell, it already is messy.

The way she kissed me in her apartment is still a fresh memory in my head. And every time I think about it, I never know what I’m going to feel. Longing. Undoubtedly attraction. But also apprehension. I had a bad practice and it’s partially because of that kiss.

I flip the steak over and enjoy the sound of the sizzle again. Max lays his head on my knee, his warm breath a comforting presence as we sit in companionable silence while the steak cooks to medium-rare perfection. Once done, I pull it from the flames onto a metal plate and let it rest while I go grab a beer from a kitchen. When I return, I’m pleased to see that Max once again resisted the urge to run away with it. “Such a good boy,” I say and take a seat on the log again.

A respectable man would use a knife and fork. I just use my hands and teeth. Max gets treated to more than his fair share too, his tail wagging eagerly as I toss him a few pieces.

As I finish my meal, some clarity comes to me. Perhaps Mac was right to be worried. What I’m about to go through at the end of our season shouldn’t be taken lightly.

Over all my years, the only constant in my life has been my love for the game. Hockey is more than just a sport to me—it’s my sanctuary. It saved me from the monster of my past. And it could all be ending. The clock is ticking now. Coach was right, I have to go out a champion. Last year when the Colorado Storm won, I wasn’t full strength. My hamstring injury kept me from being my best in the playoffs. This year, when we make it, I’m going to be the reason we win.

My priorities have got to be straight. Hockey comes first. I’ll attend the wedding with Ada, then have her sign the papers. Then I’ll give hockey everything I’ve got. And this foray back into marriage will be long behind me.

I’m at an altar in a church that is decorated with white flowers. Pews are filled with people, all smiling up at me. Sweat drips off me, making my tuxedo unbearable.

Organ music, so loud, starts blaring from the balcony. I turn to see a bride coming down the aisle. My bride . She’s in this fancy dress, all lace and satin. My heart’s going a mile a minute as she gets closer. My breath catches in my throat as she approaches, her face obscured by a veil. Adaline .

But as she reaches the altar and I lift the veil, my heart stops. It’s not Ada’s warm, brown eyes gazing back at me, but Debbie’s icy blue stare. Her lips curve into a smirk as she leans in close, her breath hot against my ear.

“You can’t move on from me,” she whispers.

Fuck. I stumble back, looking for Ada. But everyone’s laughing now, faces all twisted. The church disappears, turning into a maze of hallways, the marble floor turning to ice.

I’m running, yelling for Ada. My tux is gone, replaced by my gear. It’s heavy as hell.

“Ada!” I’m shouting myself hoarse. “Where are you?”

The laughter’s getting louder, and then I hear him. My old man.

“She’s gone, boy. You never deserved her.”

Bullshit. I keep going, tears stinging my eyes.

Then I see it—this light. I skate towards it, and there she is. Ada. All in white, hair down her back.

“Ada,” I call out.

She turns, smiling. “I’m here, Nik.”

I grab her, holding on for dear life, and the nightmare fades .

“Don’t go,” I beg.

She touches my face, still smiling.

I go to kiss her and... I’m awake. Bolt upright, sweating like I’ve just done suicides. Ada’s name still on my lips. I shake off the dream the best I can, the details of it already fleeting. The one detail that doesn’t leave is this undeniable feeling that I needed to find Ada. I needed to make her stay.

I don’t sleep well the rest of the night.

Franklin Lee has been my trusted tailor since I made the move to Colorado years ago. As a mountain man, I may be comfortable in flannel and denim on a daily basis, but for important events like game day or weddings, nothing less than the best will do. And as Ada’s date to the upcoming wedding, I want to look impeccable. Standing before the full-length mirror in Franklin Lee’s upscale shop, I watch attentively as he expertly measures me for a sleek and stylish black Armani suit.

Alex Hawkins, our goalie, sits nearby, his attention split between his phone and the conversation in the room. I brought him along today, knowing that his charm can help deflect some of Franklin’s incessant chatter.

“Have any new ladies in your life, Mr. Hawkins?” Franklin asks while measuring my inseam.

Hawk looks up from his phone and shakes his head. “Not exactly,” he replies.

I glance at Hawk over my shoulder, and he slightly shrugs. I’m surprised he’s got enough sense not to tell people about his forbidden romance with our coach’s daughter.

“I’m sure you’re not lonely though,” Franklin prods, as nosy as ever.

Hawk’s answer is vague, but honest. “I’m too busy to be. ”

“What about you, Mr. Huxley? Is this suit for a special occasion or for game days?”

I clear my throat before answering. “Special occasion.”

“Oh, do tell. What is the occasion?”

“A wedding.”

“Who’s getting married? Someone I know?”

“No,” I bark at him, my patience wearing thin.

Hawk, ever the peacemaker, tries to smooth things over. “Don’t mind him, Franklin. He had his manners knocked out of him on the ice years ago.”

“I know what to expect when it comes to Mr. Huxley,” Franklin says with a wry smile.

I pull my collar away from my neck and swallow hard. The idea of being Ada’s date at her cousin’s wedding is stirring up a whirlwind of conflicting emotions within me. I want to support her, but I also have my fears. What if I like it too much? What if spending a day with her like that only makes it more difficult to say goodbye in the end? Because that’s how this story ends. We will sign the papers and go our separate ways.

“Well, you’re going to look very dapper when I’m done with you,” Franklin assures me. He’s not wrong. The suit looks sharp on me. “And you will too, Mr. Hawkins. Is your new suit for game days?”

“Believe it or not, it’s for an art exhibition opening,” Hawk answers.

Franklin laughs. “I didn’t take you for the type to appreciate art.”

“I never really have. But it’s for a friend.”

“Is this friend a lovely young lady, Mr. Hawkins?”

“Yes, she is,” Hawk confesses.

“A future flame?”

Hawk pulls in a dramatic breath and shakes his head. “Just a friend.”

“Now that I don’t believe,” Franklin says, snagging a pin he was holding between his lips. “Is she the artist or does she work in the gallery?”

I answer for Hawk, unable to resist the opportunity to tease him a bit. “She’s the artist and most definitely a future…flame, is that the word you used?”

Hawk shoots me a warning look, but I don’t back down.

“I knew it,” Franklin says with a gentle laugh and shake of his head as he makes some marks on the fabric along one of my thighs.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” I ask Hawk.

“What?”

“Going to this event?”

Hawk knows what I’m getting at. Coach Bliss will be there, and it’s another situation where they could be exposing themselves. But Hawk’s resolve is unwavering. “Yes.”

I narrow my eyes at him, still not entirely convinced.

“Mr. Huxley, you should teach this young man a thing or two about courting ladies,” Franklin suggests.

“Ha, that’s rich,” Hawk blurts out.

My eyes snap to his in the mirror, a clear warning to watch his step.

But Hawk ignores it completely. “Your man right here got married in Vegas,” he reveals to Franklin.

Franklin gasps. “Nikolas, how did you not tell me? How did I not dress you for this?”

“It wasn’t like that,” I attempt to explain, without actually explaining a damn thing.

“Who’s the lucky lady?”

Hawk throws his hands into the air. “That’s what I’d like to know.”

“It was a Vegas thing. She doesn’t mean anything to me.” Twice now I’ve lied, first to Mac and now to Hawk. I pull my collar away from my neck again, feeling the heat of their scrutiny .

“And whose wedding are you going to?” Hawk asks. “Because I don’t know anyone that’s getting married at the moment and I’m pretty sure we know all the same people.”

I stay silent, staring at Hawk, silently willing him to drop it.

“Please do tell, Mr. Huxley.”

I shift my weight off my bad leg. “It’s her cousin’s wedding.”

“What’s her name?” Hawk pokes.

I already told him that at the hospital, but I’m not surprised he forgot. “That’s none of your business.”

“Come on, man, she’s your wife.”

“Not really.” I put it as bluntly as I shove someone into the boards.

“I saw her in Vegas, Franklin. She’s absolutely lovely.”

“That’s enough,” I growl, a genuine threat in my voice.

“Okay, okay, I surrender. No more questions,” Hawk says with a laugh.

I shake my head in annoyance, but Franklin just smiles.

As Franklin continues his work, my thoughts drift to Ada and I can’t help but wonder what she will wear to the wedding. A vision of her in a form-fitting dress comes to mind unbidden, setting off a rush of blood. Her curves are like a work of art. And for the millionth time since I last saw her, I recall the feeling of her body pressed against mine.

Stop it , I chide myself.

This is exactly the wrong thing to be thinking about, especially when I’m with my tailor. I will go to the wedding. I will make sure she has a nice time, but that’s as far as this will go. I need to concentrate on hockey. That is my priority.

Hawk’s phone chimes with a message, and I watch as his expression darkens. Whatever it is, it’s not good news.

“Everything okay?” I ask once Franklin has left the room.

Hawk inhales sharply and rises to his feet. “Yeah, everything is fine. ”

I give a slight nod, not entirely convinced, but I let it go. I have my own problems to sort out.

“I’ve got to ask. What’s your game plan going into this exhibition opening? You know Coach will be there.”

“I don’t have a game plan,” he shrugs. “I rarely do.”

“This isn’t the ice, man,” I warn. “There are some serious consequences for you and her and this team if you don’t play this right.”

“What do you want me to say?” he asks, crossing his arms defensively. “I’m going. The woman I love is having the biggest night of her professional career so far. Wild horses couldn’t drag me away.”

I put my fingertips to my forehead and dig in, feeling the weight of Hawk’s impulsiveness. “Fuck, we’re all screwed.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it so much, Hux. It’s gonna be fine. Everything always is.”

That makes me laugh, a deep, genuine laugh. Hawk is young and the most naturally talented goalie this league has probably ever seen. He doesn’t know what facing a real challenge looks like yet. He will, though.

“Was it something I said?” Hawk jokes.

I shake my head and look up at the ceiling. “God, sometimes I forget how young and na?ve you really are. It’s a damn shame you’re this dumb.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because at some point, you’re going to get burned, man, and it’s gonna suck for all of us that care about you.”

“Aww, you care about me?” Hawk coos teasingly.

“Shut the fuck up,” I growl and he just laughs.

As we step out of Franklin Lee’s shop, the crisp air greets us, a welcome change from the stuffy atmosphere inside. Hawk’s phone chimes again, and this time he looks at it and smiles.

“Your girl?” I ask.

“She’s not my girl. We’re just friends. And nope, that was my sister. She sent me some photos from the mural painting at Colorado Children’s Hospital.”

He hands the phone over and I swipe through pictures from the event. Photo after photo of the kids interacting with us and painting with little smiles on their faces tugs at my old cold heart.

Hawk’s dedication to his foundation, which supports children with bone cancer, is admirable. It’s a cause close to his heart, given his own scare as a kid.

It was a great day for me as well. I loved the work we did, and it got me thinking about how many other children out there could benefit from something like this to uplift them. While they may not be physically ill, there are still kids going through difficult situations, just like I have in the past. With that thought in my mind, a new idea ignites.

“You know, I was just thinking,” I say, as we walk towards our cars. “Maybe I should get more involved in something like that. Giving back, helping kids.”

Hawk’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Really? I didn’t peg you for the philanthropic type, Hux.”

I shrug. “I’m full of surprises.”

“Well, if you’re serious, I could always use some help with the foundation. We’re always looking for volunteers and donors.”

I consider his offer, the gears in my mind turning. “I might take you up on that. But I was thinking about something a little different. Something that combines hockey with helping kids who don’t have a lot of opportunities.”

Hawk leans against his car, his interest piqued. “Like what?”

“I don’t know yet. Maybe a program that teaches kids who have been caught up in bad family situations how to play hockey. Gives them a safe space to learn and grow.”

Images of my own troubled childhood flash through my mind—the anger, the fear, the desperate need for an escape. Hockey was my lifeline, my ticket out of a life that wasn’t safe for me.

“That’s a great idea, Hux,” Hawk says, his eyes lighting up. “You could really make a difference in these kids’ lives.”

I nod, the idea taking root in my mind. “Something to think about, especially with retirement looming.”

The word “retirement” tastes bitter on my tongue, a reminder of the inevitable end to my playing career. But the thought of channeling my passion for hockey into something meaningful, something that could change lives, fills me with a sense of purpose.

“Well, if you need any advice or connections, just let me know,” Hawk offers, his tone sincere. “I’m happy to help in any way I can.”

“Thanks, man.”

We say our goodbyes and climb into our respective cars, my mind still churning with the possibilities. As I navigate out of Denver and through the winding mountain roads back to my secluded home, I feel like I’ve finally latched onto a post hockey possibility. It makes it all a little easier to breathe.