“I have a confession.” Madison stares at me with somber eyes. “I looked you up online. I mean, research is my job, but that wasn’t my primary reason for doing a deep dive into the life of Zach Brooks. I’d like to understand the man behind the shoulder pads.”

  It isn’t surprising she’d poke around on the internet. As clean as I’ve tried to live, there will always be some dirt. She must have gone down the rabbit hole with her nose in her laptop at practice.

  She’s silent for a moment, then takes a deep breath. “I understand why you don’t like opening up to the press. It’s scary putting yourself out there. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be put on a pedestal while some jerk’s just waiting to knock you down.”

  “There’s always someone who wants the limelight and will do anything to get it.” I lean back and rest my arm across the back of the bench. “What most guys don’t get, is being a pro athlete is a privilege. Whether we like it or not, we’re role models. It’s a choice to be a good one.”

  “I won’t knock you down, Zach.” She sets the cardboard cup aside and leans back. Her shoulders and neck rest against my arm, and nothing could be more natural than this. “I dated a hockey player a few years back. He changed me. Made me wary of people, especially jocks. Like you, it’s hard for me to trust people.”

  I’m surprised and heartened by her openness and feel the need for some honesty of my own. I close my eyes, remembering the cold, hard steel bench Lauren and I sat on in the police station lobby when we were just kids. Hours before, we ransacked every sofa and chair cushion in the house for loose change while Mom raided the grocery money jar she kept hidden from my father. She needed bail money for him, but we came up short.

  “My father was an addict. It didn’t matter what substance. If he could snort it, guzzle it, or shoot it in his veins, it was all fair game. He went to jail when I was seven and never came back. I never understood why we weren’t good enough.” It’s cathartic to say it aloud after all these years, as if his burden was mine to carry. Funny the stories we tell ourselves to survive. “My biggest fear was that I would turn out just like him. I pushed myself, determined to do better, be better. I wanted to be someone my mom and sister could be proud of. When Mom got cancer, my whole world crumbled. I thought I’d lose her, too, but Lauren got me through it, and the team rallied around us when I was just a rookie.”

  “I’m so sorry, Zach.” Madison twists her body to face me. Her knee brushes against my thigh, and it’s the human connection I need. “We’ve both got our reasons for safeguarding our secrets.”

  I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of her words. We sit in silence, staring at each other while the night grows darker around us. When Madison begins to shiver, I pull her to me and tuck her into my body. She fits seamlessly next to me.

  “Did he hurt you?” I ask, my protective nature getting the better of me. “I read your article about breaking free.”

  Madison tenses, and I hold her a little closer, the warmth of our bodies thawing the cold wall surrounding my heart. The tension in her back eases, and she sinks into me, resting her head on my chest.

  “Yes, but I’m stronger than I was then.” She looks up at me, the gold in her eyes dancing in the moonlight. “He can’t hurt me ever again.”

  I’ll make damn certain of that.

  My eyes drift to her rosy lips. Though it’s inappropriate, and I have no right, I’m inexplicably drawn to Madison. She represents everything I try to avoid and the kind of woman who challenges me. The magnetic pull between us is so great, it tugs at my heart and lungs to the point I can’t breathe.

  Madison’s eyes darken to an intense, mesmerizing green. She tilts her chin, closing the distance between her lips and mine. I accept it for what it is, an offering whether for comfort, peace, or desire. I take it, gathering her close. I drag my fingers through her dark locks and press my lips to hers.

  She melts into me, sighing her permission. One soft kiss turns into another and then more. My body reacts like any red-blooded male, growing thick with untempered longing. But I’m acutely aware of who I am and where we are. Madison and I aren’t teenagers. We’re professionals, adults on public display, indulging in one of life’s basic needs––to be desired and accepted, scars and all.

  My heart races, and my lungs constrict until they burn from lack of air. I release her lips yet cling to her body, reluctant to let her go. Her hiccuped moan hitches in her throat as I pull away. We both gasp for breath and stare at each other.

  “I should call it a night.” Madison’s wild eyes roam my face as she pulls away.

  The space between us is suddenly filled with electricity and tension as the dynamic between us shifts. It’s difficult to read her expression. Is it regret, shock, distaste?

  “Yeah, me too. Big day tomorrow.” But tomorrow’s practice pales in comparison to what I’ve just experienced. Madison’s turned my world upside down.

  “Okay, so––see you at practice.” She gathers her cup and heads to the parking lot. When she glances over her shoulder, her wild eyes still glisten. But it’s the wrinkle spanning her brow that worries me.

  I watch her from the sidewalk, seeing that she makes it to her car. I’m an ass, cutting things short, but where do I expect things to go? I don’t even know where Madison and I stand at this point. A kiss doesn’t change the fact we’re both vulnerable to the pain the other could cause.

  CHAPTER 5

  GROUPIES

  ***

  Madison

  My body buzzes to the point my legs shake as I hurry to the car. I glance over my shoulder. Zach watches after me with an intensity that causes my body to short-circuit. I slam the car door shut and shakily insert the key.

  The short drive home is a blur. Lights whiz past me, and all I can think about is Zach’s hands on my body, and his lips pressed to mine. I won’t deny I’ve envied his lips and thought about his hands and the wicked things they could do, but I thought I was stronger than the force that pulls me to him.

  By the time I reach the driveway, my entire body hums with a nagging itch that needs to be scratched. I want to scream, rip off my clothes and dance naked. I want Zach’s lips on mine and every inch of my body. I blame the sudden need for release on the dry spell I’ve nursed for the last couple of years. Heaven forbid I give credit where due and break my number one rule––no more jocks.

  I pull into the dimly lit garage and throw the car in park. My hand dips below my waistband and into my panties before the garage door fully closes. I’m slick and swollen, ready for him. My fingers slip between my folds, and I don’t dawdle finding my sweet spot. I press and circle my clit, wishing it were Zach’s hand instead of mine. It takes three vigorous swirls to get myself off. I throw my head back against the neckrest and unleash the moan that’s been building in my gut since Zach’s lips touched mine.

  The tension between my shoulder blades eases as my release wanes. I pull my hand from my panties without a shred of decency left in my bones. I gather my cup and satchel from the seat with sticky fingers and hurry inside the house, leaving a line of clothing on the floor behind me from the garage to the bedroom. I’m desperate for another fix. I only wish it were Zach in my bed rather than a power tool in my hand.

  ***

  Over the next few days, I spend more and more time at the arena. What started as an assignment has become something more personal and borderline obsession. Though, obsession has its limitations. Anytime Zach catches me staring in his direction, my pulse has a mind of its own. A fireball of heat explodes in my chest, and I swear if I didn’t look away, I’d combust. Our eye contact is usually short-lived. But now I wonder if he regrets the quiet moment we shared and if talking about his father’s addiction and mother’s cancer opened too many painful wounds for him.

  I shouldn’t have embraced the kiss we shared, and I sure as heck shouldn’t have taken matters into my own hands afterward. But emotions were raw for both of us. It was one of those things that happened in the moment despite how foolish the outcome. Though, our shared moment of vulnerability felt genuine. And I’ll never deny how much I enjoyed his protective arms around me.

  After more sleuthing, I find articles related to his father––his numerous arrests, jail time, and then...poof...he vanished, off the grid. His mother logged more moves than a military family, attempting to stay ahead of creditors and landlords. The Brooks family’s world went from unstable to a house of cards in the wind. It’s no wonder Zach guards and protects his family with such ferocity.

  I arrive early at the arena, taking a few notes, jotting down the dynamics and camaraderie between players, and how Zach fits into it all. He’s a natural leader, pushing himself and his teammates to stretch a little more each day. There’s an intensity in his eyes that’s impossible to ignore, on and off the ice.

  His concentration and enthusiasm are what I’ve homed in on. The moments between plays when he laughs with his teammates or stops to help a struggling player speak volumes about his willingness to be a team player. He isn’t the arrogant athlete I misjudged him to be. He’s complex, a man of many layers, and he’s undeniably caught my attention. Maybe even my heart.

  I watch from the stands with a heart that has betrayed me. The growing attraction to the man beyond the player has me in knots. A flood of doubt and fear swirls in my gut, warning me to not repeat the past. Who’s to say Zach isn’t putting on a show, luring me closer before he turns on me just like my ex did?

  By week three, only a few press people show up for practice. Most have gotten what they needed from the weekly press conferences and one-on-one interviews with the players. They have the angles they need for their articles, yet I linger, hoping for that one little nugget that no one else sees.

  “Mind if I have a seat.” A woman in pale teal medical scrubs takes the bench beside me. I recognize her from the cache of Brooks family photos I found online. “I’m Lauren, Zach’s sister. He makes it look easy, doesn’t he.”

  I glance at her, sizing her up. No one besides the press sits in the bullpen. No one until today. And how does she know I’m fixated on Zach?

  “Yes. Effortless.” Though I’ve seen how hard he pushes himself. Not everyone can make speed gliding on a sheet of ice with razor-thin blades and an extra twenty-two pounds of equipment on their body look easy. Piece of cake. “I’m Madison, reporter with Sable Creek Times.”

  Zach glances in our direction and does a double take, apparently as surprised as I am to see his sister sitting beside me. He slaps his stick to the floor, getting his head back into the scrimmage game.

  “What are you writing about the Saints? Anything juicy or the same old stats and soundbites?” Lauren covers her mouth with a fake yawn. “Scoop the old guy’s club. Give us something we can sink our teeth into.”

  Wow. If Zach is the ultimate in secrecy and privacy, Lauren’s his polar opposite. Everyone wants a juicy story, but if I write one it sure as hell better be true. Sable Creek Times isn’t a gossip rag, though we will report shenanigans when there are facts to support the truth.

  “Nothing juicy here unless you’ve got the inside scoop on something I don’t know about.” I feel icky dropping a lure and hoping she’ll bite.

  “Oh, I’m not privy to torrid gossip.” Lauren doesn’t take her eyes off her brother. I can’t blame her. He’s formidable on the ice. “But I’ve brushed up on studying human nature. These men are larger than life. They push their bodies to do extraordinary things. They’re a force to be reckoned with on the ice.”

  No real news there. I wouldn’t want to go toe-to-toe in the rink with any of them. I’ve already done a dance with one off the ice, and that didn’t go well. I came out on the losing side. Determination, therapy, and a lot of hard work on my self-confidence got me back to the starting line. I’m far from the home stretch, but I’m not doing so bad.

  “I’ve seen them battered and bruised, getting stitched without lidocaine because they’re so pumped up with testosterone they can’t feel a darn thing.” Lauren shakes her head. “They think they have to be a powerhouse in real life, but they’re just like you and me. They have baggage and trust issues and are prone to being misunderstood. Compassion is often mistaken for weakness.”

  She takes her eyes off the ice for the first time and looks me in the eye. Her dark chocolate eyes soften, and I see the weariness in them.

  “When our mom was diagnosed with cancer, Zach had already lost a parent. I was too young to remember our father, but his leaving left a lasting impression on Zach.” Lauren frowns as she sighs. I listen quietly as she breaks down the family dynamic, hesitant to interrupt. “He’s constantly striving to prove himself worthy. Worthy of his place on the team, the attention he gets, and love.”

  A dull ache squeezes my heart with every nugget I learn about the powerhouse on the ice. Zach isn’t an egomaniac. He’s a wounded man with the warped idea that he isn’t enough. Lauren glances back toward the ice as Zach races toward the goal. She’s so in tune with him, it’s as if she knows his every move.

  “He almost quit hockey before the Saints drafted him, but Mom and I wouldn’t let him quit. As weak as she was, she insisted he fulfill his dream.” Lauren sits up straighter, her eyes fixed on the ice and her brother. “Now, he’s making our dreams come true, paying my tuition, contributing to cancer research. You name it, he’ll go out of his way to make it happen.”

  Zach goes in for the kill shot, facing off against the goalie. He fakes to the left and shoots the puck to the right with a powerhouse shot. Lauren jumps to her feet, cheering as if a real game were in progress. My heart leaps with excitement as I scramble to my feet and join her.

  Zach and I are more alike than I thought.

  ***

  Zach

  I’m surprised and momentarily distracted seeing Lauren in the stands. Lauren pops in to watch practice when she can, but her workload makes her visits increasingly rare. It’s also odd she’s chosen a seat in the press box next to Madison. Yet, there’s something warm and comforting about seeing them together, like they’re a natural fit. Like Madison and I are beginning to fit together.

  I tap the ice with my stick, shaking the meandering thought aside. Now isn’t the time to contemplate life off of the ice. The team needs my head in the game.

  Grady races down the center, flanked by defense. He hits the puck to me, and it slides across the ice with the precision of a crackerjack shooter. I fake left and swing right, slamming the puck past the goalie to score.

  Lauren’s unmistakable wolf whistle echoes in the arena. I glance into the stands expecting to see a huge smile plastered across her face, but it’s Madison who takes me by surprise. She scrambles to her feet with glittering eyes and a beaming smile that blindsides me. My heart careens into my ribs, heavier and harder than the most grueling workout. Desire rips through me with a thunderous roar and hits me like a ton of bricks.

  I’ve been in love with Madison from the moment I first laid eyes on her. We’re kindred spirits. Souls in search of something bigger than who we are alone.

  “Looks like you’ve got a groupie, Brooks.” Granger bumps into me and chuckles as he gets in position to resume play. “Don’t get all soft on us now.”

  I lower my gaze and shake my head, a bit sheepish. Granger’s got my number. If he can see through me, it’s only a matter of time before Madison does.

  Our scrimmage game resumes, and I keep my nose to the grindstone. By the time Coach calls practice and we’re cooling down with laps around the rink, Lauren and Madison are gone from the stands. Lauren hangs around as long as she can, but it’s never long. I’m hoping Madison’s still in the building.

  I rush through my shower and make a beeline for the locker room exit, hoping to find Madison propped against the wall with her nose in her phone or scribbling on her notepad. As soon as I see her, relief spreads through my bones. But the feeling is fleeting. She glances up and pushes off the wall, a frown turning the corners of her mouth downward.

  “Everything okay?” I ask hesitantly. Whatever’s changed her mood from earlier has my protective hackles raised.

  “I haven’t been fair to you, Zach.” Her voice is barely a whisper as she holds her notebook tightly to her chest like a protective shield. “I let my past cloud my judgment and projected that onto you.”

  “Hey, I get it.” To be fair, I assumed the worst about her, too. “We’ve both got baggage. Things in our past we’d rather not relive.”

  “That’s the thing. It’s hard to trust people once we’ve been burned.” She looks up at me with conflicted eyes wrought with sadness. “My editor wants your story, but if I write it, I’m afraid I can’t be impartial.”

  My heart sinks to my gut. My worst fear becomes a reality. Madison will open up my personal life like a can of worms for everyone to read. Bile rises in my throat. I should have gone with my gut from the start and kept her at arm’s length.

  “Do whatever you think you have to, but leave Lauren and my mom out of it.” I clench my jaw, powerless to protect them from internet trolls and wayward fans.

  Madison’s eyes widen in surprised horror. “That’s not what I meant. I would never.”

  She grabs my arm, and my body can’t help but react to her, no matter how the gnawing ache of loss and betrayal hits me in the gut.

  “Then what do you mean, because whatever it is, it isn’t looking so great from where I’m standing.”

  I push back the memory of how her smile lit me up less than an hour ago. How she felt in my arms the night of the charity auction. The kiss that soothed a fissure I’ve carried in my heart since I was seven years old.

  Her brow wrinkles as she steps closer, her toes even with mine. She’s so close her body heat seeps into my veins. The urge to scoop her into my arms is so great that I have to mentally restrain myself.

  “I can’t be impartial because I’m feeling things I swore I’d never allow myself to feel again.” Her eyes soften to a muted greenish-gray, mystical and magical. “You aren’t who I thought you were at all. I like you more than I should, Zach. Feeling this way scares the living daylights out of me. Admitting it aloud terrifies me.”

 

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