War (Boston Bolts Hockey #3)

3. Ava

THREE

AVA

I love everything about my job as head of charity relations for Langfield Corp.

With one enormous exception: Tyler Freaking Warren. The man all of Boston calls War because of his propensity to start fights on the ice.

The guys may be a rowdy bunch, but they’re all invested in making Boston a better place. They were here on time, and they’re lined up on the ice, ready to start their game for the charity skate. All but one, naturally.

War is nowhere to be found. I shouldn’t be surprised.

I rarely deal with the players unless it’s for charity events like this one. But every time the team is set to appear, he saunters in late.

His life, his priorities, and mainly his dick take center stage.

I hate him for being such a conceited asshole, and I hate myself even more for letting him get under my skin in a way no one else ever has.

Since the night he stood me up two years ago, I’ve seen the person Hannah warned me about time and again. Gone was the Tyler that sweet talked me in the gym, the man who’s blue eyes glittered with what I saw as hope and possibility. In his place was War, the egotistical fuckboy that makes me want to pull out my hair. Living next door to him and hearing him come in at all hours of the night, aware that he was likely out with a different woman every time, has only helped me forget the odd encounter we had when we met. And if we run into each other when we’re out—which, unfortunately, happens often since we share the same group of friends—he’ll smirk right before he disappears, like he wants me to know that he’s about to find another woman interested in his fuckboy ways.

I don’t normally curse—I barely raise my voice—but for War, even if it’s only in my mind, I make an exception.

The man drives me absolutely mad.

“Have you heard from Josie?”

I practically jump out of my skin at the question. It was harmless enough, of course, but I was so in my head that I didn’t see Beckett Langfield approach. The billionaire eyes me like I’m being dramatic as he waits for my answer.

“Not since you asked yesterday.” I pull my phone from my pocket and check my notifications.

Still nothing from Maria.

Brow furrowed, Beckett nods. “Let me know the minute you do.” With that, he buttons his suit jacket and strides away, heading toward the bench where I assume he’ll watch the game with his brother Gavin, the head coach of the Boston Bolts.

“It was nice seeing you, Becks,” Sara calls from beside me.

On her other side, her best friend Lennox snorts. Lennox is married to Beckett’s brother Aiden, and Sara is engaged to Brooks. With Lennox now working with me in the charitable relations office, just about all of my friends work for Langfield Corp.

Beckett doesn’t turn. He doesn’t even slow his stride.

“Rude,” Lennox grumbles.

Beckett Langfield may come across as the grumpiest of the billionaire brothers, but he holds a special place in my heart. Though the world really only sees the scowl and crossed arms, he’s actually one of the most tender-hearted people I know. And he’s been my favorite Langfield since the day he introduced me to Josie, a little girl who stole my heart a year ago.

Beckett is one of a very few people in Boston who know my family history. And because of that knowledge, he came to me with an idea to have an event at Boston Children’s Hospital and gave me an unlimited budget.

That night, the two of us met Josie, a little girl who had just been diagnosed with lymphoma. Her foster parents had recently abandoned her at the hospital, yet she was joy personified. It took all the strength I had to leave that room that night. The idea of her being alone, having no one, gutted me.

Beckett sat with me until she fell asleep, and then he turned a blind eye while I cried in the back of his town car the whole way home.

The next day, he called me into his office, gave me a credit card, and told me to visit Josie as often as I wanted, on the clock or off it. To bring her treats, clothing, toys, books. Anything she wanted. Anything that would make her stay just a little easier. For months, I spent every free minute I had in Josie’s hospital room.

Sundays were extra special, because my girlfriends would come with me after Sunday brunch. We’d play games, watch movies, order dinner, and stay until she was ready for bed.

In July, Josie was reunited with her birth mother, and although I’m hopeful that this is the best scenario for her, it has gutted me. I haven’t seen her in almost six months, and each time someone asks me about her, like Beckett just did, I have to fight back tears. Because the only connection I have with her is through Maria.

She can’t tell me much because of HIPAA, but apparently she’s been authorized to at least let me know that Josie is happy and healthy, which is all I can truly hope for.

A round of cheers erupts, snagging my attention and pulling me from my depressing thoughts. On the ice, the kids attending the event, all from the YMCA, are pointing and screaming at none other than Tyler Freaking Warren, skating onto the ice. Late .

Add that to the long list of his annoying attributes.

Everyone loves him.

It baffles me. The guy can’t bother to show up on time and has done nothing but cause fights on the ice for the last few years—he’s more than earned the nickname War—yet Gavin named him captain this season. Not only that, but Brooks—who is one of the most down-to-earth, genuine people I’ve ever met—swears he’s one of the best guys he knows. And the kids? They go crazy for him at every one of these events.

It makes no sense.

Aiden Langfield is the goofy nice guy who sings on the ice, and he’s a god on skates. So I get why everyone loves him.

War, on the other hand, isn’t even nice. He’s broody and has a chip on his shoulder. Why the hell is everyone so obsessed?

I know it sounds like I’m obsessed with him too, but I’m not. I’m just perplexed.

Gavin makes a big show of dropping the puck, and War goes straight for Aiden. Rather than kids versus Bolts, the teams are made up of equal numbers of both.

I cheer a little too loudly when Aiden breaks away, leaving War in the dust, then passes the puck to a kid who heads toward Brooks at a pretty decent speed.

Aiden stays by his side the entire way, protecting him from the kids on the opposing team who are trying to catch him. The other players, including War, hang back, giving him a chance. Because of the way they play things, it’s now the kid versus Brooks. Of course my money is on Brooks. He’s the best goalie in the league, after all. But to my surprise, Brooks practically dives out of the way, allowing the puck to slide into the goal.

Beside me, Sara hums, the sound one of pride, and on the ice, the players on both teams cheer. War skates toward the kid at lightning speed and practically knocks him over with a hug like he normally gives Aiden or Daniel when they score.

Odd.

“God, I love this game,” Sara says beside me as I ignore the hint of warmth blooming in my chest.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I jump for it, hoping it’s the phone call I’ve been waiting for. I deflate a second later when I realize it’s just my boyfriend.

Xander: How long is this thing going to last? I’m starving .

I search the stands and spot him in the crowd before I respond. The Langfields are catering a dinner for all the kids and their families upstairs in the suites after the game. And while staff was invited, there was no mention of whether it was acceptable to bring plus-ones, so it feels wrong to invite my boyfriend along. I told him that, but he showed up anyway. He tends to do that any time the players will be in my proximity. As if he needs to be involved when his stepbrother is present. Why, I haven’t quite figured out. They hate each other, and outside of these events, they don’t talk. Thank god for that. If Xander had an actual relationship with Tyler Warren, I don’t think I could continue my relationship with him.

How I ended up dating a man who is even tangentially related to Tyler Warren, I’ll never know. The universe clearly has a sick sense of humor.

We’ve only been dating for about six months, but I think I can see a future with him. Honestly, his worst attribute is his relation to the bane of my existence. And his slight obsession with him.

Me: I’ll be stuck here for a few hours at least. Want me to meet you at your place?

Xander: Aren’t they having food at this thing?

Me: Yeah, for the kids and their families, but not until later.

“Oh my god. He’s going to score again,” Lennox yells.

I snap my head up just as the boy scores on Brooks a second time.

This celebration is similar to the first. All the Bolts players cheer and skate around him in celebration. But unlike the last time, War lifts the kid onto his shoulder, then he skates around the rink, hollering and grinning. The kid isn’t small, either. He’s got to be at least fourteen, and on skates, he’s probably taller than I am, but War doesn’t struggle in the slightest.

My cheeks heat at the sight. Embarrassed that Tyler Warren has any effect on me, I turn away. “I’m going to see if the families need anything,” I say to my friends as I shuffle in the other direction. The farther I can get from Tyler Warren, the better.

Just as I step away from the ice, my phone buzzes in my hand. This time, it is Maria. I practically float out of the arena and into the hallway. It’s a text notification, but I’m hopeful that she has finally gotten the okay from Josie’s mother for at least a FaceTime.

Once I’m alone and in the quiet hall, I unlock my phone to read the text. But the moment I do, my stomach tumbles.

Maria: Hey, can you stop by the hospital tonight? Josie and I are here.