Fake Shot (Boston Rebels Book 2)

“You are on fire tonight,” McCabe yells at me when I snag another puck. For a second, I thought the slap shot might get by me. But at this point in my career, knowing exactly where the puck is at is almost second nature. I didn’t even have time to look for it as I snagged it out of the air, but the whistle signals the stop of play.

“Don’t fucking say it,” I tell McCabe as I toss the puck at the ref for a face-off.

“Not saying shit,” he says. He knows what I mean. I don’t want him to even mutter the S-word, even though right now, as we’re up 3-0 with less than a minute left in the third period, it’s on everyone’s mind. I haven’t had a shutout in a while, and I’d love to have one on home ice with my whole family and Jules in attendance, but I’m also superstitious as hell and don’t want to jinx it.

As the players line up around the circle to my left, one of Carolina’s forwards, Martin Levesque, shoots a look over his shoulder at me. He’s been coming at me all game, with comments like, “You broke Lester’s fucking face.”

That’s right, I did. Not only did I fracture his nose, but he has a hairline fracture in his cheekbone. I saw the pictures that were posted online and despite how bruised and swollen he was, I didn’t feel an ounce of fucking regret. I sure as shit hope he felt some, though.

The fine the league levied and the way my goalie coach ripped me a new asshole . . . those were incredibly small prices to pay. Jules will never get the apology she deserves from him, but hopefully his broken face at least helps avenge her.

As soon as the puck drops, Lester’s asshole friend skates backward toward me. He’s not lining up to receive a shot. The puck is down near center ice, but the ref won’t call him offsides unless someone passes to him. He keeps his back to me and plants himself right in front of me. And then the top of his stick flies right at my face, catching in my mask as he pulls me forward and throws me to the ground.

I hear the whistle, and when I get up, I don’t move to fight him. I just laugh at him and say, “Tell Lester I said I hope his face looks like that forever. And enjoy the rest of the game in the penalty box. We could use a fourth goal on a power play, anyway.”

The refs get to him before my teammates do, which is lucky for him, because if there’s anything that’ll get you an ass kicking in hockey, it’s touching the other team’s goalie. And when Walsh sinks the puck into the other net, I take a moment to skate over to the sin bin and personally thank Levesque for his terrible judgment.

I feel like I’ve aged ten years in the time it takes me to get all my gear off, shower, listen to the post-game pep talk Wilcott gives us, pack up my gear for our trip down south, and talk to the media. Everyone wants to discuss the shutout, and all I want is to spend as much time as possible with Jules before I have to get on that plane tonight.

I’m finally heading over to say hello to my family and goodbye to Jules when a text comes through from a number I don’t recognize.

Unknown Number

Hey Colt, it’s Jasmine. I need to talk to you after the game. Can you tell me where to meet you?

I don’t know what it is about this woman that makes her incapable of taking a hint. When she was hitting on me the other night at the Neon Cactus, asking why I never call her back, I explained that I’m engaged and very much not interested. Is she one of those women who only wants you more when they think you’re playing hard to get?

Instead of responding, I block this number too. I told my fiancée that I’d blocked all the women in my contacts, and I mean to keep that promise.

Jules is the first person I see when I walk through the doors, but she’s deep in conversation with my nephew and doesn’t notice me. Her blond hair is in a ponytail, and she’s talking with her hands, which she only does when she gets really excited about something. As I come up behind her, Simon says, “That’s so cool. I’d love to be able to learn from you. Maybe I can visit over the summer and shadow you on a job site for a couple days? I mean, if you don’t mind.”

Simon is currently a sophomore at a technical high school, training to be a carpenter. He has always loved building things, and he’s particularly talented when it comes to woodworking. The fact that he wants to learn from Jules, and the way Cheri and Gabriel are looking at her like she’s amazing and accomplished, has me kind of choked up.

It’s ironic that this whole thing started because I couldn’t get over what they’d done to me, but as soon as Jules was in my life, their betrayal ceased to have the impact it once had.

“Mathieu,” my mom’s voice rings out when she sees me standing there. I notice Jules lean in and say something to Simon, but I can’t hear what it is because Mom’s already thrown her arms around me and is chatting away about the game.

“What a game for us to come see!” Dad says, as he claps me on the shoulder. “You did well.”

“Yeah,” Simon says. “The shutout was great, but I can’t believe we missed the coolest fight ever the other night.”

“Yeah, what the hell happened out there?” Gabriel asks. “It’s not like you to fight.”

He’s right, and it only reinforces my suspicion that he’s followed my career closely despite me refusing to talk to him. His voice carries the notes of proud big brother any time he mentions hockey.

I glance at Jules before I say, “It was a long time coming.”

“Why?” my dad asks. “What did he do to you?”

I’ve seen the replays. It’s obvious that Lester was taunting me before I gave him a beating. But I’m not going to repeat what he said—they don’t need to know about Jules’s past, unless she decides she wants to tell them.

“He was defending me.” She speaks up, and everyone—me included—is so surprised that we all fall silent. “I had . . . a thing with him a long time ago. And Colt was standing up for me.”

“Good,” my dad says, with a decisive nod, at the same time my mom says, “No one messes with our family.”

There’s a tightness in my chest that’s almost painful. It’s pride and longing and happiness, all mixed together, but instead of it making me feel lighter, I feel heavy. This trip to North Carolina is weighing on me. I don’t know why I’m so opposed to leaving her, why the thought of being away from her for four days has me wanting to claw my way out of my own skin.

Is this how the other guys feel when they leave their wives and girlfriends behind? I’ll have to ask Drew or Walshy.

We stand around chatting for a bit and the topic of the shutout comes up more than once. At one point, while my family is discussing the game, Cheri turns toward me and quietly says, “I’m really happy for you.”

“Thanks,” I say. “I mean, shutouts don’t happen often, so I’m pretty happy too.”

“I meant about Jules,” she says, and there’s nothing she could have said that would have shocked me more. “You found someone who makes you happy in a way I never did. I’m so sorry how everything went down back then.” How everything went down feels like a vast understatement, but it’s not worth making a fuss over since she’s actually apologizing. “Mistakes were made, and I didn’t own up to my part in them. I let Gabriel handle everything, and I’ve always felt like I should have told you how sorry I was. I know it probably doesn’t matter to you now, but I’m apologizing anyway.”

“It matters,” I say, determined to take the high road here. It’s easier now that I truly have moved past what they did. “Thank you for apologizing.”

“Hey.” Jules’s voice is smooth as she steps toward me, coming up to my side and snaking her arm behind my back as she pulls me to her. “Nice job out there tonight.”

Cheri steps away, giving us a little privacy in the otherwise crowded room. I turn toward Jules, pulling her into a hug and pressing my face to the top of her head. “I’m going to miss you so fucking much,” I tell her.

“You’re just going to miss being in my bed.”

My chest shakes with a silent laugh. “I’ll miss that part too.”

“It’s only four and a half days,” she says, looking up at me, but it sounds like she’s reassuring herself as much as me. “You’ll be home by the time I wake up on Tuesday morning. We can do this.”

“You can do this. I’m not so sure about me.” I press my lips together between my teeth because I’m afraid my damn lower lip is trembling with how much the thought of being away from her has me about to tear up.

“You’re going to be fine. You spent the last fifteen years traveling for hockey.”

“Yeah, well, I was never falling in love before.” I bend to give her a gentle kiss, trying to savor this moment—the way she feels wrapped in my arms, and the way her whole face softens when I admit my feelings.

“Time to go,” someone shouts from behind me, and it only makes me cling to her more tightly. I’m not sure how I’ve fallen so fast, and so hard, for someone I’ve known for so long, but I can no longer imagine my life without her. Someday, I’m going to say the three words that have been running through my mind nonstop the past few days. But I’m forcing myself to wait until she’s ready to hear them.

And when I finally pull away and turn to walk out the door, Walsh walks up beside me.

“Does it get easier?” I push the words out through the lump in my throat, and even out of context, I’m pretty sure he knows what I mean.

“In some ways. And then it gets harder again with kids.”

I don’t tell him that Jules doesn’t want kids—a decision I’m completely fine with. I’d have kids with her if that’s what she wanted, but at this point in my life, I’m already an honorary uncle to her nieces and nephews, and that works just fine for me. We can spoil them relentlessly but still have our nights and weekends to ourselves, have actual adult conversations without being constantly peppered with questions, and take vacations alone. The best of both worlds, if you ask me.