Lucky Hit (Swift Hat-Trick Trilogy Book 1)

“This fucking sucks,” I grumble again. The buzzer sounds, signalling the third consecutive Saint’s loss in the past two weeks.

Frustration is a pinch in my side that won’t go away. The team was off to a damn good start this season, with stats more impressive than half the entire WHL league. We were playing as a real team, and every single player was bringing their best each game. But the team playing right now? They’re slow, laggy. The passion, the drive, is gone. Just like that.

What was once going to be our best first season opening in years is slipping like sand through our fingers.

“They’re playing like they haven’t slept all week,” Ava sighs.

“Maybe you should go to the dressing room and say something,” Morgan suggests. She’s staring at Matt with a mix of annoyance and sympathy as he raises his right glove to catch a shot but misses by a long shot. The buzzer goes off again, and the opposing team gets another goal.

I frown. “That’s Coach’s job.”

Ava sets her hand on my thigh. “I don’t think that matters. Hearing from you might be what they need to win this.”

“She’s right,” Morgan says. “Matt hasn’t missed this many saves in years. The worst that happens is that they don’t play any better after you talk to them. They’re already playing like shit. It’s not like they can get any worse.”

I look at Ava and grow more confident when I find her smiling at me. She nods and squeezes my leg. “Give it a shot. I’ll let you know if we leave our seats and wander off.”

Morgan has a point. It’s not like it can do any harm. Decided, I lean over to kiss Ava’s cheek, feeling it warm beneath my lips, and then leave the two girls to watch the mess of a game.

I pull my ball cap further down my face to try and slip out of the stands unseen and nearly scream with joy when I succeed. The walk to the dressing room is quick, and after heading inside, I find it still empty.

The smell of sweat and disappointment is pungent in the air as I sit on one of the benches between the cubbies and wait. At the sight of the clean Hutton jersey hung in my cubby, my stomach rolls.

Feeling guilty right now is unfair to myself, but as I listen to the buzzer ring out on the ice, announcing the end of the second period, I can’t help it. The team needs me, and I’m sitting here doing absolutely nothing.

Shouted voices break the silence, and grumpy, pissed-off hockey players come trampling into the dressing room. It takes them a breath to realize I’m there, and once they do, I watch as shame stifles their rage.

Matt is the first to speak up. “Don’t waste your breath, Lee. We already know.”

Coach enters the room last, disgust twisting his features. The second his eyes meet mine, his scowl digs deeper into his face.

“Who wants to tell Hutton why we’re losing by eight goals tonight?” His eyes travel the length of the room, focusing on each and every player for the same amount of time. When nobody speaks up, he asks, “No takers?”

I wince at the seething hot words.

“Fine. I’ll do it. We’re losing because you’re playing like you don’t want to be here. You’re playing like you don’t give a shit about this team or our shot at the championship! I should bench half of you for the rest of the damn season for the shit you’ve been pulling out there. You’re embarrassing yourselves. You’re embarrassing the fans and this city. Is that what you wanted?”

The team is silent.

Coach snarls, “Is that what you wanted?”

“No, Coach!”

“Do you want your fans to go home tonight and talk about how disappointed they are in you?”

“No, Coach!”

“Do you want to be disappointed in yourselves?”

“No, Coach!” They scream this time.

“Then pull yourselves together out there. You are not playing like a team stacked with this year’s prospect pool. Keep playing like this and you can kiss your chance at the NHL goodbye.” Coach turns to me and nods to the empty space beside him. “Hutton. Up here.” I don’t hesitate to join him. He squeezes the clipboard in his hands in a white-knuckle grip. “Pull them together. I’ll be back.”

With that, he leaves us alone. Uncomfortable, I rub at the moist skin at the base of my neck. My teammates watch me with an unusual desperation, like they’re hoping I can somehow turn their game around. I swallow.

“I didn’t come back here to tell you what to do. You’re all more than capable of figuring that out on your own,” I start nervously. The pressure of expectations weighs on my chest, and my next inhale is shaky. “I guess I just wanted to say that I’ve never played with a better team. Never. The chemistry we have on that ice is unbeatable, and I’m so grateful to have gotten a chance to play with you guys.

“But the team I’m seeing out there tonight? That’s not my team. My goalie doesn’t miss glove saves, and my defensemen don’t throw dirty hits. My offensemen don’t give away the puck on breakaways and trip over their own skates. My team doesn’t play without passion and confidence. So, what gives?”

Several sets of eyes drop to the rubber floor while others refuse to look away. I try not to think about David or the arrogant way he’s standing there watching me like he couldn’t care less about what I’m saying.

“We’ll get it together,” Adam says. I look at him, surprised that he’s the one to answer me. He quickly pushes his matted brown curls out of his eyes. “You’re right. This isn’t us.”

“Good,” Coach grunts, suddenly back in the room. He nods at me in approval. “Catch your breath, boys. We’re nearly ready to go back.”

I give the team another look before heading for the door. A low voice stops me when I grab the door handle.

“Thank you.”

I twist around and spot Tyler leaning against the wall, his tired eyes pinning me in place. “Anytime, man. Good luck.”

He nods, and I leave.

Ava is talking to someone I don’t recognize when I find her by the concession stands after my attempt at getting my team back to themselves. Her laugh hits the air, and I grin, picking up my pace, needing to reach her faster. Morgan has disappeared, most likely giving Ava some time alone with the woman making her laugh that damn laugh.

“If I would have known you were coming, we could have gotten tickets in the same row, Mom!” Ava says.

The short woman across from her flicks a piece of brown-and-silver hair out of her face as she waves off the words. “We wanted it to be a surprise. Ben didn’t know if he was really going to get to come home or not until just yes—oh! Hello, there.”

I meet the woman’s stare as I come up behind Ava and slip my arm around her waist, palming her side. She doesn’t so much as stiffen as I do, and that makes my confidence soar.

“Hello. Sorry to interrupt. I’m Oakley Hutton,” I introduce myself and offer the small woman my hand.

She grins and grabs it with both hands, squeezing it twice. “Lily Layton. It’s a pleasure to finally meet the star my daughter has told me so much about.”

“Mom,” Ava scolds lightly.

Lily releases my hand and smiles innocently. “What?”

I chuckle and press my chest to Ava’s back, inhaling the scent of vanilla and oranges. “At least I feel less embarrassed about talking about Ava to my family so much now.”

Lily nearly melts, and I take that as a crucial win. “Oh, that’s so sweet.”

“What’s so sweet?” a man asks. I quickly place him as a tall, beefy guy coming to Lily’s side and not the younger version of him standing on his other side. The two guys narrow their eyes on me.

“Oakley. Ava’s boyfriend,” Lily tells him.

Ava sputters a cough and shakes her head. “I never said he was my boyfriend, Mom.” She looks at me apologetically over her shoulder. “I never told her you were my boyfriend.”

I tighten my grip on her waist. “Boyfriend has a nice ring to it.”

Lily grins and elbows the man beside her. “Introduce yourself to Oakley.”

The surly man does, and the second our hands meet in a tight shake, his smile is pinched and awkward. “Derek Layton. Octavia’s dad.”

“Great to meet you,” I reply.

“And I’m Ben, the big brother,” the other guy says, shaking my hand once his dad releases my throbbing fingers.

Ava’s brother is not what I was expecting. From how she described him before, I was expecting a guy that looked a lot like her father. Commanding and intimidating with biceps the size of my thighs.

But Ben gives off more of a calculating, quiet vibe. Like he’s thinking about the ways he could ruin your life without leaving tracks.

I’m not sure who is more terrifying—her father or brother.

“There. Introductions are done. Now, can everyone go back to their seats so we can watch the rest of the game?” Ava pleads.

She and Lily share a subtle look that I can’t decipher before her mom says, “Of course. Don’t forget about dinner tomorrow night, okay? Your father is going to grill up some steaks.”

“Yeah, that’s great. I’ll see you there.” Ava grabs my hand and starts to pull me away from them before her dad stops us.

“You like steaks, Oakley? I can pick another one up.”

Lily squeals. “That’s a great idea! Tell us you’ll come.”

I sneak a glance at Ava, and when she lets out a resigned sigh and nods in approval, I say, “I love steak.”