Find Me on the Ice: Hockey Romance (Nighthawks Book 2)

I wasn’t ready for the honesty of Little Dove’s story. I was expecting her to say something stupid, like naked grandmas. Not the fact that her ex was abusive.

She doesn’t want to tell me his name right now, but eventually, I hope she’ll share it. Because I would love to pay him a visit. And I know I would have some assistance from the team too. He wouldn’t walk away from it. He would need to be carried, if he left alive at all.

How could someone hurt her?

Looking at the screen, I study her face, every beautiful inch. And then I realize I can do one better. I take a screenshot of her looking right at the camera.

Perfect.

I knew what story I wanted to tell the second she asked, but I need a moment to build up the courage.

“I don’t let anyone touch my back,” I tell her, forcing the words out of my mouth.

“Why?” she genuinely asks.

“It’s full of scars, much like your own. But mine were caused by a whip.” My voice is shakier than I’d like. But I’ve only shared this story with one person—Kos. “My dad used to whip me after practice, after games, whenever he felt like it really. He was my coach and would punish me for fuckups or mistakes or if he thought I had an attitude. He thought I had one most of the time. He was a cop, so I used to think he would always get away with it forever.”

“Was?” she asks, and I know what she really wants to know.

“He’s not dead, unfortunately. He’s in prison, getting what I imagine is treatment much worse than death. He tried to kill himself the first night there, but the guards got to him in time.”

She doesn’t say sorry, and I just now realize that I didn’t either. But I think we both know that I’m sorry is a phrase used when someone doesn’t know what else to say.

“Good. It would have been too easy of an out for him. A cop in prison? I’m sure he wishes he were facing death instead. But he deserves whatever pain he’s getting for what he did to you,” she says with anger.

As the wave of exposure crashes into my chest, I don’t shy away from it. I embrace it and feel it all.

“I’m glad you called, Little Dove. I wish you were here right now,” I confess.

She hesitates, and her lips open and close before she finally says, “Me too.”

A maniacal laugh leaves my throat as Knox is pulled away from me and is escorted into the penalty box.

“Sit your ass in the box, bitch.”

He cross-checked Kos into the boards and earned himself two minutes in the sin bin. Which puts us on a power play, five on four, not including the goalies. The second he connected with Kos and he went down, I was already on Knox with my gloved fist, pounding into his face. Owen Knox, number twenty-two on the Washington Wild, has been a pain in my ass this entire game, and I can feel the fight between us brewing. That was just a warm-up. The second he lit Kos up, a target was planted on his back.

Kos skates to the face-off, and the puck is dropped. It flies out to Brett, who takes off toward our zone. I swing wide, and Kos cuts down the center. Brett kicks it over to Kos, and I take off toward the net. Kos shoots, and it goes slightly to the right. The goalie covers it, and the whistle is blown. We set up for the next face-off, and when the puck is in Jensen Donnelley’s stick, the defender shoots it down the ice, giving us a moment to race to our bench. We are overdue for a line change.

I rip my helmet off and spray my head with my water bottle. I am so fucking hot right now. Throwing my helmet back on, I take a few large gulps of water and catch my breath. When my next shift arrives, I skate onto the ice.

The announcer shouts through the speakers that our power play has ended and the Wild is at full strength.

Knox skates out of the box, and I notice he doesn’t head for the bench. He’s staying in, which isn’t in his best interest.

Number eighty-one gains possession of the puck and flies toward their zone. I take off and see Knox slap his stick on the ice. Eighty-one passes to Knox, who prepares to shoot and is surprised when my stick meets his at the puck, mid-swing. I barrel into him, checking him as hard as I can.

His teammates try to get to me, but mine are already there to hold them off. Their own scraps start, and I focus on the one in front of me.

Knox flies backward, but doesn’t fall. Instead, he digs into the ice and skates toward me with fury in his eyes. The moment I have waited for has finally arrived. I am going to kick his ass, and then we are winning this fucking game.

Our gloves fly to the ice, and the linesmen kick them out of the way so we don’t trip over them as we fight.

“I hope you can hit better than you shoot,” I say to him when he’s a few feet away.

He doesn’t say anything back, and as he pulls his arm back to swing, I beat him to the punch, literally. I block his hit with my arm and slam my fist into his face. Immediately, I deliver a second one before he has a chance to recover.

He grabs my collar, and I grab his. We are locked together, and our fists are flying. He lands a good one to my jaw and then my nose. For a split second, I consider the chance that Knox might actually win.

But there is no way that is happening. I drop his collar and slam my left fist into his jaw, followed by my right hook.

He falls to the ground, and I drop to the ice next to him and laugh.

“That’s the best you’ve got, Knox? I’ve got another one in me if you want to go again.”

The ref pulls me off of him, and the crowd goes wild. The sticks smack against our bench as our team cheers on my victory.

“Woo!” I scream into the abyss of sound echoing in the rink.

We’re both escorted over to the penalty box to sit for two minutes for roughing.

As I’m sitting in the box, counting down the seconds until I can leave, I can’t help but think of Nikki.

I scan the crowd even though I know she’s not in it. We’ve texted off and on the last week since our FaceTime. Each day, I find out new things, little and big.

She loves chocolate and hates kiwi. She hasn’t been able to visit her parents in a few years and misses them dearly. She has nightmares, like me. She has gone to the library daily since our call, and I would love to know what she’s reading. Is it nonfiction, like Hockey for Dummies? Or is it straight porn on pages? I want to know what she reads to escape, and I intend on finding out soon.

I wish she were here, cheering us on. She should be in the bleachers, wearing my jersey and screaming my name.

The thought of her stays in the deep recesses of my mind during the remainder of the game. When the final buzzer sounds, we take the win, four to one.

When we get to the locker room, Kos slaps my back. “What the hell got into you? You were on fire the last part of the third. That fucking shot you had was fucking filthy. The goddamn tendy didn’t know what to do!”

I laugh, replaying the final breakaway I had tonight. “Fucking right.”

“Well, whatever flipped that switch in you needs to keep flipping it. We’re taking the Cup this year, boys!” he cheers and screams, and we all follow suit.

After a couple of drinks at End Zone, Brett and I Uber home. He decided to bring some chick home with him, who practically already has her hand down his pants in the car.

“Can you fucking wait until we get to our place?” I scoff.

Brett just laughs. “Fuck off, Costy.”

Thankfully, we quickly arrive at our condo.

I tip our driver and jump out of the car. “Don’t rush up.”

The girl is more sober than Brett, who is already swaying side to side as they walk behind me to the door.

She probably thinks she’s going to get a night of great sex. But Brett is already fucking sloshed and will probably pass out in the next thirty minutes.

When I finally shut the door of my bedroom, I grab my phone and fall onto my back on the bed.

I somehow find myself in the Photos app, staring at the screenshot I took of my Little Dove earlier. She is breathtaking in every way.

Biting my lip, I set the photo as my new home screen. I definitely can’t change my lock screen, or I’ll get shit from the guys, which won’t ever end.

I want to call her and ask her about her day. But I don’t know if she’s up right now or if she would even pick up. I sent her a text after the game, saying we won and that I wished she had been there. I sent a kissing face emoji, and I’m now wondering if it was too much. Leave it to Little Dove to have me overthinking an emoji.

The buzz of the drink I chugged before we left is really starting to kick in, giving me more courage than I usually have. Which leads me to pressing her contact on my FaceTime call log.

It rings once, and I wonder if I should have texted her first.

Second ring.

Third ring.

I’m starting to regret calling when she answers.

It’s pitch-black, and her voice is a raspy whisper when she says, “Hello?”

Shit. I woke her up.

“Hey. Are you sleeping? Go back to sleep. We’ll talk later,” I softly tell her.

A soft light floods the room as she turns on her lamp on her nightstand. She squints as she looks into the camera, completely bare-faced with her hair in disarray. With certainty, she is the most beautiful girl I have ever met.

“Is everything okay, Cam?” she asks with concern etched in her voice.

Nodding, I assure her, “Everything’s fine, baby. Go back to sleep. Call me tomorrow.”

She yawns and asks, “Do you need to go?”

That’s when I notice the rapid rise and fall of her chest and the sliver of fear in her sleepy stare.

“Not at all.”

She rolls onto her side, and I struggle not to look at her breasts that are now pressed against the thin layer of her tank top. Sometimes, when I’m around her, I feel fifteen again. Like I have no self-control and am seeing a woman’s body for the first time.

“I was having a nightmare actually. You called at the perfect time. How was the game?” she asks as her eyes still struggle to stay open.

“It was good—really good actually,” I tell her. “What was your nightmare about?”

“The usual,” she sighs.

“Still don’t want to tell me his name?” I ask, trying to hide the desperation in my voice.

“I don’t ever plan on it.” She closes her eyes. “In my dream, I had just gotten home after getting my hair done. He didn’t approve of it and made sure I would never color it like that again. He chased me with a knife and cut all of it off with the blade and then stabbed me in the stomach. It felt so real. Then, I woke up when you called.”

“I’m glad I did. I’m a hero.” I smile at her before genuinely asking her, “Are you okay?”

She shrugs. “It was just a bad dream.”

“That doesn’t mean that you’re okay.”

“I’m a little shaken up, but I’ll be fine. I hate that about you, you know?” She rolls her eyes.

Laughing, I ask her, “What do you hate?”

She groans. “That you can read me. That you can see me so damn clearly. It’s aggravating.”

I can’t help but see her. She’s a beacon of light. I knew it the day I saw her. I was instantly drawn to her and not just because of the attraction I felt toward her. She gets my pain and my past without needing me to explain what it feels like. She already knows. I don’t have to put on some front with her or wear a mask. We seem to strip each other of those layers and be true to ourselves, the good and bad.

“You’re aggravating,” I say, teasing her. “I disagree though. I think it is the furthest from aggravation. No one ever sees me, not in the way you so easily do. They see Cam Costello, a starting forward for the New York Nighthawks, someone invincible. Which is true. I am bulletproof, by the way.”

She giggles, and my heart jumps.

“Talking with you has been all I look forward to outside of hockey lately.”

“Such a sap, Blue Eyes,” she coos.

Rolling my eyes, I can’t hold back the smile she seems to conjure out of me. “Tell anyone, and I’ll deny it.”

She mockingly gasps. “Your secret is safe with me. For now.”

“For now? For always,” I demand.

“Fine. For the foreseeable future. Are you just getting home?” she asks me.

“Yeah. We always grab a few drinks at a bar nearby after a win.” I hear a moan through my door, and I guess Brett has more left in him than I thought. “By the way, in case you couldn’t already tell, Brett has a guest over tonight.”

She giggles, and it has got to be the cutest sound I have ever heard. I immediately want to hear it again.

“But not you?” she asks as her laughter dies down.

“No, not me, Little Dove,” I say, feeling a spark in my chest at the thought of her being jealous if I did.

But in all honesty, no one has even come close to comparing to her since the night we met.

“I haven’t brought anyone home since you kissed me,” I say as I stand up and set my phone down on the bed.

I pull my hoodie over my head and toss it onto the floor.

“What are you doing?” she asks with shock in her voice.

I can see from the little screen of me in the corner that she can see my bare chest.

“Getting ready for bed.” I laugh. “But if you want a show, all you have to do is ask.”

“Hmm,” she hums with a smirk on her lips.

I kick my joggers off and climb into bed, lying on my side, like she is.

“Tell me about your day,” I softly demand, not wanting her to stop talking.

Her eyes flutter shut as she says, “I worked at the shop this morning until about eleven. Chloe hired a couple of teen girls to work the afternoon shifts so that I don’t always have to be there if I don’t want to be. So, I went to the library and talked to Susan, the librarian, for a little bit before coming back here and passing out.” She seems to relax, sinking further in her bed as she talks. “Then, Chloe showed up and woke me up. We ate pizza from the restaurant that is by us and watched The Princess Diaries and The Princess Diaries 2. And now, I’m FaceTiming you and about to fall asleep again.”

I want to ask more questions to keep her talking. I don’t want this to end yet. But by the time she finishes the short speech about her day, her voice is barely a whisper.

“I can let you go back to sleep, baby,” I offer.

Her brow furrows, and her lips frown slightly. “Stay.” She lays her phone down, and all I can see is the ceiling. “Good night, Cameron.”

“Good night, Nikki.” I can’t hold back the smile on my lips as I hear her breathing even out as she falls back asleep.

My body is exhausted from tonight, and I am the perfect amount of intoxicated because I feel like I’m floating. I close my eyes and am very thankful that I haven’t heard another sound from Brett’s room because hearing her calm and peaceful breathing is the most soothing sound in the world.

I feel sleep closing in, and I quickly plug my phone in so it doesn’t die while I’m passed out. I don’t want to be the reason the call ends. I lay my phone beside me and get comfy as I drift into slumber with Nikki at my side.