ChapterOne
Cole Montgomery was fucked.
Over his eight years in the NHL, he’d been slammed against the boards so hard his helmet had flown off, whacked on the head with a hockey stick, and tripped while skating twenty-three miles per hour…
And now, he was sitting on the examination table, waiting for a diagnosis…after cracking his head on the floor of aroller skating rink.
Coach stormed into the room. “You had better be okay.”
Leaning back on the table, Cole gave him an easy smile and crossed his ankles. Pain exploded in his knee. “I’m fine.”
They both looked at the team doctor for confirmation of the lie. “He’s got a concussion.”
“How did youdothis?” Coach bristled with anger. “What the hell were you thinking?”
Like he didn’t feel shitty enough? The last thing he wanted was to miss a game. They’d won the Cup last season. He fully planned on winning it again this year. “I threw a holiday party for my guys like I always do.”
“At aroller rink?”
“I wanted to include their families.” Hockey took them away from their wives and kids enough, so he figured this year, he’d go all-out with a fun event. “I wasn’t even skating. You know I wouldn’t do anything to put myself at risk.”
“And yet, here we are.”
“As I understand it,” Dr. Hansen said. “The guys were messing around, racing each other, and they were about to crash into Peck’s daughter. Cole grabbed her and saved her from serious injury.”
“Yeah, well, Mr. Fucking Hero, the captain of this damn team, now has a concussion.” Coach got right up in his face. “Why do you do this shit? Why do you always have to take things too far? You want to give the guys presents? You hand them out in the locker room. Take them out for a fucking drink. But no, you always have to turn it into some over-the-top event.” He spun around, cocking his arm back like he might hit the wall. Instead, he punched the air. “How long is he off the ice?”
“Four games.”
Coach’s eyes bugged out, and his features flamed. “Four?” The heel of his palm smacked the padded exam table. With his jaw clenched tightly as if biting down on a rash of words he might regret, he turned and stormed out the door.
In his absence, the room pulsed with tension. Cole couldn’t believe it. He rarely got injured. This was only his second concussion over a lifetime of playing hockey, BASE jumping, rappelling, glacier snowboarding… Name an extreme sport, and he’d done it. But to have it happen like this—not even halfway through the season?
I can’t afford to miss any games.
“Well, that went well.” He slid off the table, landing on the knee he’d twisted. Fire blazed up his thigh, but he quickly schooled his features.
Doc watched him with a guarded look. “Is there any other pain you need to tell me about?”
He shook his head. Not a chance would he mention it. They had six more games until they got a break for Christmas Eve and Day. He’d miss four of them, giving him time to ice and rest his knee.
When he reached the door, Doc called, “You need any painkillers?”
“Nope. It’s all good.”
Liar.
Fuck.
Cole sat on his leather couch, leg propped, ice on his knee.
“You okay, slugger?” Birdie, his twenty-two-year-old assistant, came into the room with a protein shake.
“You know I play hockey, right?”
Around him, she referred to every sport other than the one he played, always pretending she didn’t know the first thing about hockey when in fact he’d met her at a coaching clinic at Boston University. Her long-term boyfriend had just dumped her through a text, and she’d come to the rink to hurl his belongings onto the ice.
She’d worked for Cole ever since. Now, though, she was about to graduate with a master’s degree in education and would be leaving him to teach smelly middle school kids. “Maybe one day, I’ll catch a game.”