Learn Your Lesson: A Single Dad Hockey Romance (Kings of the Ice)

Will

“For fuck’s sake.”

I gritted my teeth, skating hard and fast across the ice to where Aleks Suter had one of our rookies pinned up against the glass, his forearm pressing hard into the kid’s neck. He was spitting something at him in German, and I didn’t have to speak the language to know he wasn’t complimenting the pigeon on a nice shot.

It had been a hell of a week. With a string of home games and an away game in Boston tomorrow, the whole team was tired. We needed a day off — whether to rest or blow off steam — but we weren’t going to get it until Friday.

Which meant until then, I had to deal with this jerkoff and the rest of my exhausted team.

I slid to a stop when I made it to them, grabbing the back of Suter’s practice jersey and yanking him backward. I had to immediately step between him and our teammate to stop him from advancing again.

“You fuck up my shot again, and I’ll wring your fucking neck,” Aleks threatened.

“Bro, relax. It’s practice.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t fuck around in practice like you dumbasses.”

“I was giving you the assist!”

“You were wasting oxygen and skating like a goddamn baby giraffe.”

I slammed my hand hard into Suter’s chest, skating him backward and away from our teammate. He pointed a thick finger over my shoulder at the rookie before shaking me off and skating away like he was just going to get right back to practice.

But I snatched him by his jersey again, dragging him with me to the bench.

Aleks Suter was a big sonofabitch. He was just as tall as I was and built like an MMA fighter, every muscle in his body sculpted by rigorous workouts and skating. Still, I slung him onto our bench like he was a teenager who weighed nothing, narrowing my gaze as he ripped off his helmet and glared at me.RêAd lat𝙚St chapters at Novel(D)ra/ma.Org Only

“Cool off,” I ordered.

Before I could skate away, he spat near his feet, offering me something between a glare and a cocky grin. The motherfucker was intimidating. He had his last team wrapped around his finger until the moment his general manager booted him, and the only reason he was here was because our general manager loved anything that served as a spectacle and got asses in our seats.

But I wasn’t intimidated by Aleks — not even a little bit.

And I was hell bent on whipping him into an actual teammate who could be useful.

“You’re not my daddy,” he said, standing, but I shoved him back down onto the bench.

“You’re already on two strikes,” I reminded him. “One more, and you’re off this team and likely out of the league completely. Is that what you want, tough guy?”

His jaw ticced, nostrils flaring as he returned my hard stare. He was like a mustang that refused to break, but I knew that he didn’t want to lose hockey.

If I had to guess, I’d say it was the only thing that actually mattered to him.

He didn’t realize it, but I saw right through his act. I knew that behind all that anger and aggression, he was dealing with something none of us understood.

I knew because I’d been there myself.

I didn’t know what he was running from, exactly, and to be frank — I didn’t give a fuck. All I needed was for him to rein it in enough to be a good fucking teammate and help us get the Cup. I wanted to help him, the way my mentor helped me when I was in a similar spot.

But unlike my mentor, I didn’t have the patience to hold this prick’s hand.

I didn’t give two fucks if he ended up out of the league — not if that was what was best for this team. But as it stood, Coach McCabe had put his faith in me to give this clown a little guidance, to help him reach his potential.

I’d do anything for Coach because he’d been one of the men to save my ass.

After I lost Jenny, I was drowning. I could barely get myself up in the morning to care for Ava. When I did make it to the arena, which wasn’t much, I was like a ghost — a really pissed-off, irritable ghost.

Because losing Jenny was more complicated than anyone realized.

Jenny and I weren’t ever lovers — not in the traditional sense. She was my best friend, someone I laughed with and trusted. When we felt like it, we fooled around, but that was where we drew the line.

Until things got serious.

She got pregnant.

Marrying her was the easiest thing in the world. Nothing was complicated with us. We had an agreement, an understanding to raise our kid together and still live our lives the way we had been.

But somewhere along the way, I realized I loved her. Not in the passionate way love is portrayed in the movies, but in the comfortable, warm and reliable way. I came to care for her more than anyone else in the world.

And I never got the chance to tell her before she died.

Our goalie at that time was a senior veteran, a beast of a man who had a great career but was on his way out. His name was Sven, and he was trying to prepare me to fill his role.

I didn’t know how he did it.

I didn’t know how he found the patience for me, how he saw past the asshole exterior I knew I wore like a badge of honor.

But he did, and I would never be able to thank him and Coach enough for that.

I supposed getting Aleks in line was one way I could try.

“Listen, I know it can be frustrating when you feel like you’re outperforming your teammates. But instead of fighting them, work with them,” I chastised. “Teach them. Show them how to be better.”

“No, thanks. I’m not a fucking babysitter.”

“No, you’re clearly the child who needs babysitting,” I shot back. “Cool. Off,” I repeated, jabbing my finger into his chest. “When you’re ready to get serious about this practice and this team, you can come back on the ice.”

“Fuck you,” he said, standing. “I don’t need this shit.”

He stormed off toward the locker room, and I let out a heavy sigh before Coach walked over to join me. We watched Aleks disappear down the tunnel, and when I moved to go after him, Coach put a hand on my shoulder to stop me.

“Let him go,” he said. “Practice is almost over anyway. Let him get centered for tomorrow’s game.”

“He’s a cancer,” I said, turning to face McCabe. “And he’s bleeding into every inch of this team.”

“He’s our teammate,” Coach argued, leveling me with just one look. “I know he’s not the kind of teammate you prefer, but he’s still in Osprey blue. He’s still one of us. And you know damn well we wouldn’t have the record we do without him.”

That made me grind my teeth.

I hated that he was right.

Aleks had a bad rep around the National Hockey League and had since he joined as a rookie four years ago. When rumors surfaced over the summer that he might be traded to Tampa, I’d thought there was no way Coach would allow it. He ran a tight ship around here, and I was certain he wouldn’t let some bruiser mess that up.

But as much as he loved to find trouble on and off the ice, Suter was one of the best wingers I’d ever seen. He even had more goals and assists this season than even our star forward, Vince Tanev, which was almost impossible to believe.

The issue was his attitude.

He thought he was better than everyone else, that we were all a waste of space on the ice. He also had a fuse the size of a fucking ant, and any time he blew, we paid for it — like in last night’s game, when he ended up in the penalty box and Atlanta scored on us on a power play, leading to a loss.

“Be patient,” Coach said, releasing my shoulder.

“I have been,” I growled.

“Be more patient,” he said with a grin, and then he blew the whistle and called practice.