Home Game (A Vancouver Wolves Hockey Romance Book 2)

WE WERE UP 2-1 and about to face off but the opposing team’s coach called the ref. I scanned the crowd, looking for Zoey. She stood by the glass, phone in hand. She beamed a smile at me and gave a quick wave. I raised my glove and smiled at her.

“You know the coach will have your head if he catches you flirting with your girlfriend,” Mica said from beside me.

“You know she’s not my girlfriend.”

“Yet.”

The ref skated towards the other ref and they spoke.

“I like to see her happy,” I spoke under my breath.

“You make her happy.”

No, she makes me happy. The truth of that thought startled me. I glanced up towards the glass again. Zoey chatted to Krista and said something that made Krista laugh. What was it about Zoey that drew me to her? I’d never met anyone like her and I wasn’t sure I ever would again. Everything had been so bleak when I arrived in Vancouver, but Zoey had changed all that. Somehow she made this place feel like home. Because of her, and her little accounting side business, my team was warming up to me. We weren’t where we should be, but we had come a long way.

I glanced up at her again. Zoey was now showing the guy next to her some photos on her pink phone. He smiled and pointed at the photo and they both laughed. What was it about her that people just automatically loved her?

Did I really make her happy? Lately, something had been bothering Zoey. She had alluded to it the morning after her birthday party, promising that she’d talk about it, but we hadn’t discussed anything yet.

“Heads up, Parker,” Mica said. The ref was standing between the two players, about to drop the puck. I needed my head in the game. I vowed that the moment I had a chance, I would get Zoey to talk about what was bothering her.

“NICE WIN,” I fist bumped with other members of my team, before stepping off the ice to head down the tunnel. I walked on the rubber mat, towards the locker room, past the gated wall of fans, all eager to get an autograph.

“Smile, Ryan.”

I glanced up to see Zoey posed with her phone, taking a photo of me.

“Ryan, can I have your autograph,” some kid asked.

Sometimes we stopped for fans, sometimes we didn’t. It depended on our mood. Since Zoey was there, I decided a few wouldn’t hurt. I tucked my gloves under my arm and signed someone’s stick.

“Can you smile?” Zoey complained. “This is for Instagram.”

I flashed her a smile. Her responding smile was small and so cute, it made me want to reach over the gate and kiss her.

Where had that thought come from?

I shook my head and moved a few feet down to talk to another fan. Mica and Jensen behind me, also stopped to sign a few autographs.

I glanced up to see if Zoey noticed Jensen. Instead, she stood still, looking over her shoulder. Fear etched her features. I paused and looked down her line of vision to see what was inspiring such a strong level of emotion. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a blur of pink. Zoey was taking off, pushing through the crowd, fighting to get past all the fans.

Another motion. A man with a black coat and long greasy hair pushed his way out of the crowd to go after her.

“What the fuck?” My heart skipped a beat as I froze, making sure my eyes were not lying.

“Zoey,” I called.

She didn’t turn back. She raced across the Concord and then disappeared into the women’s washroom. Three seconds later, the man burst through the doors, following her.

I didn’t think. I grabbed the fence with one hand and in one motion, hopped over. The crowd backed away.

“Out of my way,” I pushed against a man who refused to move.

“Parker,” Mica called behind me.

I didn’t respond. My only concern was about every passing second that Zoey was alone with that man. In my skates, I ran on the cement, uncaring that I was destroying my blades. I pushed open the bathroom door so hard, it ricocheted off the wall.

“Zoey,” I yelled, rounding the corner. The room was empty except for a long line of stall doors. I stalked along, pushing each door open with violence. Each stall was empty. My hand hit the door of the last stall, the handicapped stall, and it didn’t budge.

“Zoey, open this door.”

I heard a whimper. Rage and fear blinded me. Using my shoulder, I pushed my full weight against the door. I felt the lock snap and then my body was pushing into the stall. I caught my balance. There in the corner, the man stood, his arm around Zoey’s neck, his dirty fucking hand over her mouth. Her big blue eyes looked at me with fear.

The roar came out of me like a savage. I swung the base of my stick, catching him on the temple. His head snapped back with the impact. I yanked her out of his grip.

“Go,” I said, my harsh voice barely recognizable.

She ducked under my arm and disappeared from sight.

The man held his head. “My head. You hit my head.”

“Who are you?”

“Fuck off.’

I grabbed him by the lapel of his coat and not caring that his body was knocked roughly against the bathroom stall as I dragged him out and threw him to the floor. Then I landed on top of him with all my weight. He grunted in pain.

I pinned his neck with my stick and I put my face to his and spoke in a slow, measured voice. “Who are you?”

“What the hell?” I heard Mica yell from behind me. “Jensen, grab security.”

The guy, with his greasy face and beady eyes, tried to spit at me. I swung hard, hard enough that his entire head flopped to the side with the impact of my fist.

“You think that hurt,” he winced.

“I’m just getting warmed up,” I hissed, tossing my stick above his head, so I could use my other fist. I connected with his nose with a satisfying crunch. My next hit connected with his jaw. Blood was spurting now.

His moan sounded like music to my ears.

“Parker, stop this,” I felt Mica’s arms around mine. I fought him, but Mica threw all his weight against me, and pushed me off the guy.

“He hurt Zoey,” I grunted.

“Shit,” Mica lifted his head. The guy was scrambling to his feet. Mica grabbed his foot and his shoe came off in his hand. The man took off around the corner, exiting out of the opposite doors at the exact time Jensen and security entered from the other side of the washroom.

“Get off me,” I seethed at Mica. I rolled over onto my knees, my eyes searching for Zoey. She sat on the floor, beneath the hand dryers, her arms around her knees. Her big blue eyes wide with fright. I moved to kneel in front of her.

“Are you hurt?”

She looked up at me with such pain and trust and then she burst into tears. “He took my phone.”

“What is going on here?” Security barked behind us.

I pointed at the door. “A man wearing a black coat and now only wearing one shoe, attacked Zoey, held her captive in this bathroom and stole her phone. Go get him.”

The two men looked at each other and then took off out the door.

I took Zoey’s hands in mine. “I will keep you safe, okay?”

Her face scrunched up so hard, she couldn’t speak, but she nodded.

“Let’s get her out of here,” Mica spoke from behind us.

I got to my feet and then with tenderness, helped lift her to her feet. I put my arm around her.

The four of us walked towards the lockers. The group of fans parted in silence, watching with wide eyes as we approached.

When we got to the gate, Mica jumped to one side. I lifted Zoey over into his arms. Behind us, Jensen carried our sticks. A security guard looked at me with surprise as I ushered Zoey into the locker room. The level of nudity of my teammates caused her to duck her head.

I steered her towards the private lounge that was banned from the media, family and pretty much everyone else.

“Do you want to talk now?”

She shook her head.

I motioned for her to move further into the lounge. “Wait here. I’ll be out soon.”

Without looking back at me, she disappeared into the empty lounge. Assured that no one could reach her there, I stripped off my gear. Around me, reporters interviewed players. I had done nothing exceptional in the game, so I prayed that they’d leave me be. Wrapping my towel around my waist, I headed to the shower.

Mica was already there. Here we could talk. Away from the media reporters and the cameras.

“What happened?”

I stepped under a stream of water. “I saw her. She looked scared, and she took off. That fucker went after her. I found them in the handicapped stall. He had one arm around her neck and one hand over her mouth.”

“Shit. I understand now why you looked like you were going to kill him.”

Remembering how I felt, when I was hitting the guy that hurt Zoey, I spoke with truth. “You did the right thing pulling me off. I wanted to hurt him.”

“Who is he?”

“No clue.” I finished soaping down and rinsed off. “But I plan on finding out.”

“Call me if you need me.”

“Thanks, man.”

I got dressed in record time before ducking into the lounge. Zoey was curled up on a couch, her face downcast, looking at her lap. I moved towards her and sat across from her.

“You okay?”

“I need to get home.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

We drove home in silence. Zoey sat curled up in the passenger seat not looking at me. I wanted to talk to her, but something told me to let her talk on her own. When we walked into the apartment, she disappeared into her bedroom and shut the door.

Shit. Now what?

I picked up my phone.

ME: Zoey got attacked at the stadium

My phone immediately rang.

“Speak,” Krista demanded.

“Some guy chased her into the women’s washroom and was holding her down when I got there.”

“When was this?!”

“Right when we came off the ice.”

“Is she okay?”

“She’s shaken up, but I think she is okay.”

“Does she know him?”

“She isn’t talking.”

“What is she doing?”

“She’s locked in her bedroom.”

“Well, go talk to her. Get to the bottom of this.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Call me later.”

I hung up and stared at Zoey’s bedroom door. I had no idea how to talk about this with her.

My phone rang again.

Jensen.

I debated letting it go to voicemail, but I picked up.

“What!”

“Is she okay?”

“I don’t know. She won’t talk.”

Jensen cleared her throat. “Has she talked to you about her situation?”

“What situation?”

“She was talking about leaving. She promised me she’d talk to you.”

“Hold on,” I interrupted. “She said she wanted to leave?”

“She said someone from her past had come back. And she wanted to leave before it got out of hand.”

“I gotta go,” I started to hang up.

“Wait,” Jensen pleaded. “Is she okay?”

“She’s fine. I gotta go.”

I hung up the phone and tossed it on the counter. An indescribable emotion rolled through me. It pissed me off that she would talk to Jensen and not me. I walked to Zoey’s bedroom door and knocked.

“Zoey?”

“What?”

“Can I come in?”

No answer.

“Zoey, I’m coming in.”

“Fine.”

I expected her to be lying curled up in her bed. Instead, she had all her clothes on her bed and she shoved items into plastic bags.

“Hey,” I worked to keep my voice low and steady. “What are you doing?”

Panic fueled her movements. “I have to leave.”

“No. That’s the worst thing to do.”

“You don’t know what I know. I have to go.” She paused and looked up at me. “I have my list and I promise I’ll pay you back, but can I borrow $100?”

“Zoey.”

“Fifty then.”

I ran my hands through my still damp hair. Wondering how $50 could make any difference? You could barely buy a meal for $50. “What happened to the money you earned?”

“He took it.”

“Who took it?”

“Terrance. He said he wanted more, but that was all I had and now I don’t have enough to leave here.”

I ignored the part about her wanting to leave. “Who is Terrance?”

She refused to look at me as she pulled on her black hoodie.

I moved across the room and grabbed her two hands. “Who is Terrance?”

“The guy from tonight.”

“You know him?”

She hung her head in shame. “He’s a bad man.”

I sat down on the bed and pulled her to sit down beside me. “Talk.”

Tears filled her eyes. “I need to leave.”

“You need to tell me what is going on. How do you know Terrance?”

A lone tear traced down her cheek. “He used to be my foster dad.”

I worked to tamper my anger. “What happened?”

“I was 16. And he’s a pervert.”

I. Would. Kill. Him.

“Did he hurt you?”

Her small shoulders shrugged. “He tried.”

“What happened?”

“He came into my room one night but…I stabbed him.”

I blinked. Trying to imagine a 16-year-old Zoey, petite and terrified, lying awake at night while that animal crept into her room. My nostrils flared as I worked to control my anger. “Then what happened?”

“I ran away.”

“Did he go to jail?”

She shook her head. “I told no one.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “How did he get your money?”

Her entire body deflated, like all the fight, all the hope escaped out of her. “I saw him one night in the store. And then he was waiting for me the next time I went to the store. And then when I was with Bianca, he was standing across the street.”

“Did he approach you?”

“Not that time. Bianca must have talked to him because she let him upstairs.”

“Terrance came up here?” I repeated in disbelief.

“I didn’t know she would do that. And she left, and I was here alone with him.”

“Bianca let him into our apartment and then left you here with him?”

I would deal with Bianca later. I focused on Zoey.

She nodded, misery etched her features. “He wanted five thousand dollars. The only way I could think of getting him out of here was to give him my money.” She lifted her tear-stained face up to mine. “I knew he’d bring trouble. And I meant to leave, but I didn’t have any money. I need to buy a bus ride out of town.”

I wanted to stand up and destroy something. Instead, I calmly asked, “What does Jensen know?”

She swallowed. “Nothing. Just that I wanted to leave. He made me promise to talk to you.”

“And?”

“And I couldn’t find the right moment.”

“You tried. You told me you wanted to talk.”

Her voice was barely a whisper. “He’s so bad. He’s going to ruin your life.”

I worked to keep the incredulity out of my voice. “Is that why you want to leave? To protect me?”

“And Krista.”

“You don’t think we can handle this Terrance?”

She hung her head. “I don’t think I should force you to. Not after you’ve done so much for me.”

I put my fingers under her chin and lifted her face upwards. Those beautiful blue eyes glittered with tears. I put my hands on either side of her face and then slowly lowered my mouth to hers.

My kiss was soothing and gentle. She gasped beneath my mouth and I fought my need to deepen the kiss, take charge, show her how I felt. Instead, I ended the kiss and pressed my forehead to hers.

“Please don’t leave.”

“Ryan.”

“Zoey, I’m asking you. For me. Please trust me.”

“I do trust you.”

“Do you trust that I can protect you?”

“Yes, but you shouldn’t have to.”

I kissed her again. Her mouth was so soft, so silky smooth beneath mine. She tasted like bubble gum and goodness. My cock instantly hardened and strained against my dress pants. I worked to keep that kiss PG. I forced myself to ease off when my body wanted me to take it further.

I looked down at her. Her pouty mouth was pink and full. Her cheeks were flushed and her breath was uneven.

“You promise you won’t leave?”

She looked dazed. “I promise.”

I stood up before I did something I regretted. “We’ll deal with this in the morning, okay?”

“Okay.”