Hard Hit: IceCats series Read online

  Hard Hit

  IceCats series

  Toni Aleo

  Copyright © 2021 by Toni Aleo

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  For my husband, because he built me a badass SheShed and Hard Hit is the first book I wrote in it!

  Contents

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Epilogue

  ALLY IS HERE!!!!

  Also by Toni Aleo

  Acknowledgments

  About Toni Aleo

  Introduction

  Before you get started!

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  Chapter One

  Kirby

  * * *

  I sigh hard.

  Harder than I normally would.

  I notice I do that a lot more now that the Stanley Cup series is over. I don’t lose well. Especially twice in a row, and to the same team. The fucking Nashville Assassins. I hate them. They may have some cool dudes on it, but together, they’re a mountain we couldn’t conquer. Even when we had a three-game advantage over them, they still came back and won. Four games straight. No one thought they could do it. Everyone had us, the IceCats, as the winners of the most coveted Cup, but the Assassins didn’t give up. It’s so fucking annoying, though you can’t help but be impressed with them.

  Still, I’m beyond unsatisfied and extremely frustrated with myself, my team, and the hockey gods.

  The IceCats have had two chances to win the Cup, and we couldn’t do it. We couldn’t close, no matter how much we fought, how many times we came from behind, and no matter that we have the best goalie in the league. I mean, Nico Merryweather won the best goalie trophy three years in a row, yet we can’t give him the Cup. I don’t get it. I don’t know why we haven’t won. We have one hell of a coach. A great team of strong players and, again, the best goalie in the league. Why? Why can’t we win the ultimate prize?

  It’s so frustrating. I’ve spent my whole life wanting that Cup. I didn’t have the best home life. I got thrown back and forth between my parents, and the only reason I played hockey was because they guilted each other to make the other pay. When I was old enough to work, I started working at my home rink just so my fees were paid and the fighting could stop. I would get hand-me-down gear, and most of the time, I slept at the rink. That way, I didn’t have to hear my mom getting her ass beat by my stepdad, and on the weeks I was supposed to be with my dad, I didn’t have to watch him be a drunk.

  It wasn’t easy, but I knew what I wanted. To be a Stanley Cup winner. To get there, though, I couldn’t worry about my dumpster fire of a family. My dad died in a drunk driving accident my freshmen year in college, and my mom divorced her abusive husband and married once more, starting a brand-new family. I was forgotten very quickly, and I soon realized, if they weren’t worried about me and my dreams, why should I worry about them?

  Even with the emotional buttload of shit I was dealing with, I worked my ass off on the ice and, most of all, at school. Being a Michigan Wolverine, I had no choice but to grind. Not only did I have my pride, but I wanted to make my coach and my school proud. While I did have scholarships, I still had to work for food and anything I wanted to do for fun. Though, I didn’t have much time for anything else. It was hockey, school, work. Same thing, every day. Some would get burned out, but for me, my goal was my driving force. I never stopped grinding, even when my girlfriend—who is now my ex-girlfriend and the mother of my daughter—wanted me to quit, I didn’t. She wanted me to herself, but I had a goal that was bigger than her. I should have known back then it wouldn’t work out, but I ignored it.

  Lilly Paige sat beside me when I was drafted. Not my mom or my dad. My college coach was there and even my coach from when I was growing up, but they weren’t beside me the way Lilly was. I’ll never forget when they called me—first round, ninth pick for the IceCats—how I felt. I was so proud. I was ready to kick some ass. Lilly was over-the-moon excited for me, and that night, I proposed. I was convinced she was it, but she wasn’t.

  I just wanted the whole American dream.

  Dream job.

  Dream wife.

  Dream family.

  Which would mean my life would be ten times better than it was. It was nice to have someone to love me. I wanted it so desperately. Love. I craved it. My parents didn’t really step up to that blue line, and when I found it, I wouldn’t let go. Even when I knew I should have.

  Lilly and I are toxic together. She never knew when to stop; she’d push my buttons until I lost it and had to leave. She didn’t like that I would leave, and she’d start another fight once I was back home. She loved to spend my money, but most of all, she couldn’t handle being alone. It usually led to her sleeping with the cable guy or pool guy. I wish I were kidding, but I’m not. While I wish I would have found anyone else other than her to love and be loved by, I know if I hadn’t met Lilly, I wouldn’t have my daughter.

  Oh, my gorgeous Celeste.

  I’ve done a lot of things in my life, some good and some bad, but Celeste, she’s the best damn thing I have accomplished. I may want the Cup, and it may suck that I don’t have it, but at the end of the day, I get to be Celeste’s daddy, and nothing compares to that. Which reminds me, Lilly should be on her way with her. I glance at the clock above my stove as I put away the formula and baby food I got in preparation for my week. Since it’s summer, the parenting plan says we alternate weeks of care for Celeste. I wish I could have her all the time, every single day, but that would mean I would have to have Lilly. And I’d be damned before I let her in my life again.

  I almost got away from her, but she came back pregnant with Celeste. I gave it my best shot the second time, but nope, like always, she couldn’t seem to keep her legs closed. It may make me a dick, but I had a paternity test done to make sure Celeste was mine. Thankfully, she is, because when she was born, I fell in love with her. My sweet princess.

  I move through the kitchen getting things ready, which was what I was doing before I started daydreaming about not having the Stanley Cup. I really need to stop doing that. It is what it is. I don’t have it—move on, work harder. All I can do is stay in shape this summer and soak up as much time with Celeste as I can get. When the season starts, it’s going to be hard, but we’ll manage. We’ve been doing it for six months, and I don’t doubt we’ll continue the same. I may greatly dislike Lilly, but I force myself to outwardly respect her for Celeste’s sake.

  Lilly doesn’t do the sam
e for me, though.

  She treats me like crap, guilts me when Celeste isn’t with me and I’m playing hockey. I asked her not to bring a man around my child until she’s dated him more than a month, but she ignores that wish at every opportunity. Could be because the average length of a relationship for her is a week, but still. It drives me crazy she won’t honor that one request. I guess I shouldn’t expect much since I asked her not to cheat on me too, and she still did that. The guy she’s with now, though, Marc, has been around for a month, so here’s to hoping he locks her down. Not because I want Lilly happy, but because I want stability for Celeste.

  I don’t understand Lilly, to be honest. She doesn’t seem to care about what is best for Celeste. Only herself. It makes no sense since she comes from a solid upbringing, good parents, and a great family. Meanwhile, I raised myself, and I’m out-parenting her, tenfold. Pretty sure her parents feel sorry for me, for Celeste, but no one corrects her behavior. Except me. I don’t give a shit. Treat my child right, or I’m calling you out and fixing the situation. She could be a good mom—if she wanted to. She doesn’t want to, and that annoys me.

  Really, everything annoys me lately.

  I move through my house, picking up and cleaning up so that the house is ready for Celeste. I bought a nice home on the beach right when we found out Lilly was pregnant. My teammate and buddy, Chandler, and his family live on the other side of the beach in a smaller neighborhood, but word is, his wife is pregnant again and now he’s looking over here by me. It would be nice to have a friend close since I live between two older couples. They’re wonderful people, but they sure do love being in my business. They really don’t like Lilly, but they love Celeste, which is good.

  I never saw myself in a large home. Especially since I slept at the rink for most of my life. Now though, I have a pretty decent four-bedroom beach home that I love. Things may not be how I dreamed them, but at least I have a career, a daughter, and a house I love. One day, a wife will come, but for now, I want to focus on training and Celeste. Maybe even upgrade the deck in the back. Something kid-friendly for when Celeste starts walking. I look out the large gallery windows to where my back deck is. It’s a nice deck, but the wood planks are way too far apart. It’s more decorative than practical. I want to replace them so I can take Celeste out there.

  When the doorbell rings, I pull my gaze from the deck and the beautiful view of the ocean and head for the front door. It should be Lilly with Celeste, and when I open the door, I’m filled with joy at the sight of my blue-eyed baby girl. I reach for her, taking her chubby self in my arms and hugging her tightly.

  “There’s my girl. How ya doing, CC?” She coos happily as I kiss her fat cheeks. Out of the corner of my eye, I take a quick glance, expecting to see irritation on Lilly’s face. She hates when I don’t greet her and just take the baby, so I make sure to do it every time. Petty? Yes. But to my surprise, she doesn’t look irritated. Instead, concerned. Or worried. I kiss Celeste again before I turn my attention to Lilly. She walks inside, setting a bunch of bags on the floor. Way more than what I need for a week. I meet her gaze as she looks up. “You didn’t need to bring so much. I have stuff too.”

  She shrugs as she swallows noticeably. “We need to talk.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah,” she says, and I wish I didn’t still find her beautiful. Celeste takes after her with the bright blond hair and light-blue eyes. Celeste looks like me, but she lacks my darker coloring. Instead, she’s a beach babe like her mom. Lilly exhales heavily as she tucks her hands in the pockets of her shorts. “Marc and I are going to Italy.”

  I shrug. “Okay. Just let me know what time you’ll be in on Sunday, and I’ll have her ready.”

  She shakes her head, and I eye her curiously. “I won’t be back.”

  “Huh?”

  “Marc has a job offer, and I knew you wouldn’t let me take Celeste, so I’m leaving her with you so I can go with him.”

  “To Italy.”

  “Yes.” She says it with no concern, no remorse.

  “And you’re leaving Celeste here, with me?”

  “Yes.”

  I blink. “I don’t understand. So, when will you be back?”

  She bites her lip. “I don’t know.”

  I want to say I’m surprised. I want to say I expected more from her, but I’m not and I don’t. “So, because you want to go with your boyfriend, you’re abandoning your daughter.”

  That sparks something in her eyes as she glares at me. “I’m not abandoning her. She’s with you.”

  “So, you aren’t going with your boyfriend?” I ask dryly, and her glare deepens.

  “Kirby, don’t be a dick.”

  “Don’t be a dick. My daughter’s mother is leaving her for a man—please tell me how I am supposed to take this. Do you want me to be happy for you?”

  “That’d be nice. You don’t think I’m a good mom anyway! You want her all to yourself.”

  “That’s true, but she still needs you, Lilly. Grow the hell up.”

  She rolls her eyes. “I never wanted to be a mom, and you know that.”

  “Sure, but here we are, and Celeste needs you. Think of her.”

  The look on her face tells me she has absolutely no intention of staying. Or even coming back. “I don’t want to, Kirb. I don’t want to be a mother. You should have just let me abort her.”

  It’s like she’s stabbed me in the stomach. “Lilly, you don’t mean that.”

  “I do. I don’t want to be a mom. Not everyone is made for this life, and I’m not. I don’t want this. I never did. I did it for you.”

  I know this woman. I know how she thinks. There is no changing her mind. “You’re making a mistake, Lilly. Honestly.”

  “I’m doing what’s best for her. She’s better off with you.”

  Before I can even stop her, she’s out the door without even a goodbye to her daughter. Within seconds, every single emotion runs through my body.

  Anger—I really do hate that woman.

  Sadness—Celeste deserves better than this.

  Fear—How am I going to do this on my own?

  But then Celeste leans her face on mine, moving her fingers along my jaw, and I feel the ultimate feeling.

  Love.

  “We got this, CC,” I whisper, but I know she doesn’t understand me or even know what I am saying. “Me and you, love bug.”

  Really, I am telling myself more than I am telling her.

  Chapter Two

  Jaylin

  * * *

  “The cost of supplies from the Brinton Company is beyond ridiculous, and no matter how much I tell Jonson we need to find another supplier, he isn’t listening.”

  I have no clue who Jonson is, or even the Brinton Company.

  This is the third time I’ve been out to lunch with Malcolm Franklin, and I really don’t understand why he talks about his job at the hospital like I know anything about it. I may date a lot of doctors—since my mother sets me up weekly with all her church friends’ sons—but that doesn’t mean I know a thing about the hospital. Honestly, I don’t even care. I don’t even really care for Malcolm. He’s a very handsome man. Dark-brown eyes, a nice fade in thick, coarse, curly hair. He’s skinny, not much muscle to him, but he’s smart. Very smart. I like that. He wears thin wire frames. And I know we’re meeting during his lunch shift, but surely, he can leave his lab coat in the car. I don’t know why it bugs me that he wears it, but it does.

  I don’t understand why my mom wants me to be with a doctor. She is hard-core setting me up with her friends’ brothers, sons, cousins, dads—I mean, if he’s a doctor and he’s a black man, I’m on a date with him. I could say no, but guilt eats me alive if I do. I know why she does this. She was there to take care of me when I had breast cancer, but she might not be there if it comes back, and she wants me to be cared for. I get it. I do. But I don’t think I’m meant to be with a doctor. Shit, in all reality, I may not be meant for anyone. I’ve
been on twenty dates in the last couple months and no sparks. If I hadn’t felt that spark last year, I might not believe it’s attainable, but I did. Though, that didn’t work out…

  “How’s the Collins’ case—”

  “Why don’t you leave your lab coat in the car?”

  His brown eyes meet mine, confusion filling his features. He draws in his thick brown brows, and he parts his lips a bit. He has the perfect complexion; he must have not had acne growing up. I did, which is why I wear makeup everywhere. He’s just too put together. I’m not saying I want a shitshow as a partner, but when I let my crazy out, I don’t want to be judged for it. “Sorry?”

  “Your lab coat. You wear it every time we go out.”

  “I’m coming from the hospital. It’s a part of me in a way,” he says with a wry laugh. “Does it bother you?”

  “A little,” I say, leaning on my hand. “It reminds me of all the times I sat in chemo.”

  Compassion fills his features as he nods slowly. “I’m sure it does,” he says, and then he takes his coat off. “Want me to take it to the car?”

  Now I feel silly. “No, you didn’t even need to take it off.”

  His lips move a bit at the side. Not a smirk but still a movement. “I wanted to. For you. I really like you, Jaylin.”