Bruiser (Seattle Sharks 7)

The puck dropped, and the kids scrambled.

God, they were bad.

And so damn cute.

“How old were you when you first started?”

“I’m Canadian. I was pretty much born with skates on my feet.”

Shea rolled her eyes. “Look who’s not being open now.”

I kissed her temple, keeping one eye on the game. “I can’t remember a time when I didn’t skate. My father played in the bar league, and he liked to live vicariously. Always told me I’d play for the NHL, and then they’d be rich.”

“Has he ever seen you play now that you’re in the NHL?”

My jaw flexed. “I haven’t seen him since I was seventeen.”

“Oh. Wait, why did the ref just whistle?”

“Offsides,” I explained. “You can’t have an offensive player in the zone before the puck.”

“The kid offended someone?” She looked up at me.

Shit, now I wanted to kiss her clueless face silly.

“No, the player is on offense, instead of defense. An opposing player can’t go past that blue line before the puck does. It stops kids from cherry-picking…just camping out next to the goal, waiting for the puck.”

“And the kids know this?”

I nodded. “It’s one of the rules.”

“This is way more complicated than when she played soccer,” Shea muttered. “Ooh! There she is!”

Elliott skated out and took her position at wing.

My nerves came to life on her behalf. We’d been working hard for the last three weeks, ever since Shea had finally given the OK.

Puck dropped, and Elliott was in the thick of it.

“Be smart. There you go. Use the boards. That’s it. Good job, you got this.” My words were quiet, but Shea still laughed.

“You know she can’t hear you, right?”

“Shhhh,” I told her. “I’m working on my telepathy skills.”

“You’d better get that puck!” a dad from the opposing team screamed. He was about ten feet away, already pacing on the bleachers. “Don’t you let her take that from you! She’s a damned girl!”

I took offense on multiple levels.

“Hey, there are kids present,” I said over to him, letting my voice raise loud enough to make sure he heard me.

He shot me a glare, and I just shook my head.

“Asshole parents haven’t changed,” I muttered.

The first period passed with a goal on each side.

The second saw the same.

By the third, I was both nervous for Elliott and ready to shove the guy next to me out of the rink. Fucker wouldn’t quit yelling at his kid.

The kid and Elliott battled for the puck against the boards, both trying their hardest to dig it out.

“There you go!” I shouted as she broke free with the puck.

“Damn it, Trevor! SKATE!” the dad screamed. Dude was going to give himself a heart attack.

“Oh my God! She has it! She’s skating!” Shea shouted, bouncing next to me.

“Play smart. Don’t get fancy. Keep it on your stick. You got it. You got it. Watch the goalie. He’s going to give you his tell.” I coached her quietly

The goalie came out of the goal, then backed in as Elliott approached. When he dove to the left, Elliott shot right.

She scored.

My heart just about flew out of my chest. Holy shit, I was proud of her.

“AHHHH! Elliott!” Shea screamed, jumping up and yelling with the other parents.

I clapped hard and shouted for her.

Elliott bumped into the boards, having failed to stop. We’d work on that this week so she didn’t hurt herself.

You have two road games this week.

I’d find time.

“That’s on you, Trevor!” the dad yelled, and I’d had enough.

“Look, take it easy on your kid. It’s not like he’s in the NHL,” I snapped at the guy. “Just let him enjoy the game.”

“How about you—” the dad yelled, coming a little too close for comfort.

I stood, and he immediately shut the fuck up, his face going pale as he looked up...and up at me. Shea gripped my hand.

“They’re kids. Just kids. Trust me when I tell you that your son will skate a hell of a lot better if you stop screaming at him from the bleachers. Adding that kind of pressure isn’t helping him, which you’d know if you saw his strides falter whenever you scream.”

The dad looked up at me, then the logo on my sweatshirt, obviously figuring out who I was.

“Yeah, well, it’s kind of a given that she’d score on a breakaway seeing as her dad is an NHL player?” With that smartass comment, he walked back to his own seat.

I laughed and sat down, knowing he thought the comment was offensive, but I wasn’t even mad. Hell, the guy thought I was Elliott’s dad.

I was remarkably okay with that.

“She’s looking great out there!” another parent from our team called over.

“Thank you!” Shea answered. “She’s been working really hard.”

“It shows!”

I grinned. It sure did.

After the game, we waited in the lobby of the local rink. I sat at one of the tables, knowing standing would only draw attention, and the more people figured out who I was, the less anonymity Elliott would have here.

If she even had any.

Shea walked over, her forehead pursed.

“What’s wrong?” I resisted the urge to pull her into my lap.

“That flyer pinned to the bulletin board…” She tilted her head. “It listed the league fees.”

“Okay?”

“It said the season was close to four thousand dollars.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right.” I saw the panic in her face and immediately took her hand. “Baby, I already paid it. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“You…But you told me it was free!” She was flat-out pissed.

“No, I told you it wouldn’t cost you anything, and it didn’t.” I rubbed my thumb over the pulse in her wrist.

“Semantics!”

“Truth, and I was happy to do it. Please, Shea, if you won’t let me spoil you, at least let me do this for Elliott. I’m the reason she pushed to play, anyway.”

Shea sighed. “But you bought her hundreds of dollars of gear already…”

Thousands, but I wasn’t telling her that. I hadn’t exactly gone the frugal route when outfitting Elliott.

“And she’s given me way more than that in the joy of helping her,” I assured Shea, pulling her between my knees and giving her a PG kiss on her lips.

“What am I going to do with you?” she asked, her hands cupping the back of my head.

“Whatever you want, Shea. But you could definitely consider coming to one of my games. I mean, it wouldn’t really be with me, since I’d be on the ice, but you know…”

She bit her lip. “Not sure I’m ready to see you like that yet.”

“What? Completely fucking awesome?” I whispered so kids wouldn't hear me.

She laughed. “How about I take you to dinner tonight, instead.”

I was learning when to push and when to retreat when it came to Shea, and this was definitely a retreat moment. “Sounds perfect.”

“Did you see me?” Elliott shrieked as she raced from the locker room, dragging her wheeled gear bag behind her.