Face Offs & Cheap Shots (CU Hockey Book 2) Read online

  “I thought she looked familiar.”

  I turn my head and growl at him. “Don’t even. And don’t even think about telling anyone on the team. Or anyone at Colchester.”

  “I wouldn’t do that. I promise. I do still think your mom is cool though. And she didn’t give a shit about us. Maybe she did talk to your dad.”

  The phone rings again.

  Jacobs kisses my cheek. “Answer it. I’m gonna jump in the shower, and then we’ll head to campus.”

  I roll on my side and stare at the screen with my father’s name on it.

  Maybe I should rip off the Band-Aid.

  With a deep breath, I suck it up and just get it over with. I hit Answer, but I have no voice.

  “Teddy? Hello? If this is your damn voicemail again—”

  “It’s me, Dad.”

  “Ah. Well …”

  Silence fills the line.

  “You’ve been calling me repeatedly to say ‘Well’?”

  “Yes, well, ah …” He clears his throat. “I expected you not to answer again. We have things to discuss.”

  “Pretty sure we don’t. My future is my own, and I’m done—”

  “I have a proposition for you.”

  I sigh. “Let me guess. You’re willing to overlook the boyfriend thing if I put my head down and work really hard to be your minion.”

  “Would you shut that mouth of yours for five seconds?” Dad grumbles.

  Eww, why did my dad suddenly remind me of Jacobs? I shudder.

  “If you want something more than Beckett Enterprises as your future, you need to have a backup plan.”

  “A … backup plan?” I can’t have heard right.

  “Have you registered for your classes this semester yet?”

  I grunt. “Yeah, weeks ago. Why?”

  “Oh. I thought that happened during your first week.”

  “Everything’s online now.” You ancient dinosaur.

  “Well, is it too late to change classes or switch majors?”

  I’m confused. So fucking confused. “Yeah, like a year too late.”

  There’s another beat of silence before he says, “It’s up to you to change that.”

  “I don’t get it,” I say.

  “If you want out of the business, you need to prove you have a different life planned out. One that is sustainable. You can’t live on your trust fund forever.”

  I actually think I could, technically. It’s worth more than what a lot of people make in a lifetime, but I’m not going to bring that up. He’d probably find a way to tie it up in legal shit so I can’t access it until I’m fifty.

  “I still don’t understand.”

  Dad’s silence speaks volumes. “Maybe you are right and aren’t smart enough to run the company if you don’t understand what I’m saying.”

  “Nice. Thanks.”

  “You wanted an out, and I’m giving it to you.”

  Wow. “So, because I have a boyfriend, you’re finally releasing me from my obligation?” I don’t know whether to be pissed off or happy. Maybe both.

  “You don’t want to join the business, and I’m done trying to force you into something you don’t want. But that doesn’t mean you can go off and do nothing with your life.”

  “You’re … really letting this go? Why? Is this because I have a boyfriend?”

  “I don’t care who you’re dating, but seeing you with … him did make me realize something. It hit me all at once.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You’re not me. You’ve been acting out to prove a point, but all I was seeing was someone not wanting to grow up. I thought you didn’t want to work for me because it meant putting all your childish actions aside. I’ve been seeing all your shenanigans as a young man doing stupid shit while he can still get away with it instead of what it is—a protest.”

  I suck in a sharp breath and hold it.

  “I’m not going to make you take a job you despise, Teddy, but I’m not going to sit back and watch you piss away your money or your life. So, I have a proposition. You have until graduation to show me a life plan that is stable and supportive of a Beckett lifestyle.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Meaning …”

  “If you won’t take the job at Beckett Enterprises, you’ll be cut off from all the perks that goes with that. I need to have faith that you can support yourself.”

  “And if I fail?”

  “If you can’t do that, then you’ll take your position at my company and will grow the fuck up.”

  Ah. There’s the catch.

  This is a trap. It has to be.

  It’s too late to change from a business major, meaning the only future he wants me to have outside the company would still be business related.

  He’s trying to force me into working for him, but he forgets one thing. I’ve been trying to get out of my fate since middle school when I first found out about my father’s plans for me.

  If there was a college degree in avoidance, hand me my diploma.

  “So, I have until graduation?” I ask.

  “Yes. If you can’t show me a plan that I approve of by then, you’ll take the job with me.”

  “Even if I’m in a relationship with a guy? What happened to the board not accepting a queer guy as CEO?”

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

  Meaning he thinks we’re never going to come to it.

  There’s every chance in the world that he won’t approve of any plan I come up with, but there is an opportunity to get out and do my own thing here.

  I just have to prove myself.

  “Got any ideas?” Dad asks, and while the question seems genuine, I can’t help thinking there’s a challenge in it. Like he knows I’ve got jack shit. Which, I do because I’ve never allowed myself to think of a future I couldn’t have.

  “I have countless.”

  “Wow. Okay. Didn’t realize you wanted out that badly. But I can’t wait to see what you come up with.”

  Again, he sounds genuine, but that can’t be right.

  “And, Dad? No matter what I come up with, promise you’ll give Baby a chance.”

  He doesn’t answer immediately. “I’ll think about it. Talk soon.” Dad ends the call.

  I keep the phone glued to my ear, wondering if that actually happened or if I’m still asleep and it was a dream.

  Hmm, nah, if it was a dream, he would’ve told me to follow my heart or some shit.

  Reality is if I want out, I’m going to have to prove myself. That’s too close to reality to be a figment of my imagination.

  He’s giving me a chance. I have to take it.

  There’s only one problem with that.

  I have no idea what I want to do with my life.

  I might not know what I want to do in the future, but if we’re talking about my future five minutes from now, my answer is Jacobs. He walks out of the bathroom completely naked, soaking wet, while he runs a towel over his longish hair.

  Yep. If I could do anything in the world right now, it’s him.

  “What did your dad say?” he asks.

  My mouth opens to tell him, but then the crippling weight of pressure makes me pause.

  “That bad?”

  “It was … weird.”

  Jacobs smiles. “He cool about us?”

  “I think he is. I don’t know. It was a surprising conversation.” One I’m still struggling to wrap my head around.

  “It’s a step in the right direction, right?”

  I nod because it really is.

  My life is my choice, and now it’s entirely up to me to fuck it up.

  I have a lot to do. I drop Jacobs at Grant’s parents’ house where he says Grant’s brother promised to help him move all his stuff. I would’ve done it, but I told him I haven’t chosen my senior classes yet, which made him go into full-on Jacobs mode.

  I ignore him when he says it’s a typical Beck thing to leave it to the last minute and nod quietly.
/>
  I need to talk to my advisor about adding possible courses to my workload this year and the best way to graduate with something other than business units on my degree.

  Because it’s the Sunday before school starts, it takes me forever to track him down, and when I do, it’s when he’s crossing the quad heading away from his office.

  Professor Edwards is a forty-year-old nerd. In personality and appearance. Right down to his bow ties and sweaters.

  He’s made it clear in the whole time he’s known me that he hates jocks.

  “I need a minute of your time, Professor.” I begin to fill him in, but he cuts me off.

  “Now’s not the time, TJ. I have to get to freshman orientation. I don’t have time to deal with a senior who’s going through an existential crisis.”

  “I have … extenuating circumstances,” I say.

  He folds his arms across his skinny chest. “And what would these circumstances be? A death in your family? Funding issues?”

  I bite my lip. Okay, so saying my father is loosening his reins and allowing me to change degrees will not go over well. Especially if I tell him I want to study something sports related.

  This is a pain in the ass, and I think my father knew that when he proposed this idea.

  “I want to add some minor certificates to my degree.”

  That catches his attention. And not in a good way. “This isn’t an emergency?”

  If only he knew. Or could begin to understand.

  “Make an appointment with me sometime this week.”

  He walks off, and I let out a curse.

  My next stop is Coach’s office.

  He’s always at the rink during orientation to welcome all the freshmen. Without fail, any freshman on the hockey team turns up at some point to look at the ice they’ll be playing on the next four years of their lives.

  We’re hockey players.

  Hockey is our everything.

  A memory of Coach telling me I had the potential to go all the way if I put in the effort fills my mind, but that was junior year, and I’d shut him down hard.

  I couldn’t allow myself to think of a possibility in hockey, and even if it was an option, it’s not a viable option.

  I can already hear Dad’s laugh if I went back to him and told him I’m going to be a professional hockey player.

  I’m not good enough to be signed to the NHL. I’m no Foster Grant.

  The AHL or ECHL is more realistic, and I could work my way up, but Dad was very specific about a stable lifestyle. A career in professional hockey isn’t stable. An average career is five years. Of course, there are outliers who go way longer than that, and I have no doubt Grant will be one of them.

  But the bottom line is, I’d have to either commit to trying to make it in the NHL, push hard and work even harder and still possibly not get it and then have to work for my father. Or, I could be smart about this.

  I’m going to be smart.

  When I fill Coach in on my plan, he agrees so easily I wonder if he had the same idea. He doesn’t even seem surprised.

  We shake hands, and he reminds me about the first official team meeting tomorrow night.

  “We’ll be there.”

  A knowing smile crosses his face, and I wonder if he knows I mean me and Jacobs. Together.

  After our meeting, I make my way back into the fray of people carrying moving boxes and going about trying to get moved into the dorms.

  When I’m assigned my new room, I take most of my stuff from my car and carry it to the third floor of the jock building again. Only, this time, I’m at the other end of the hall.

  Ten bucks says I turn the wrong way countless times getting off the elevator before I get used to it.

  I dump my stuff in a pile in my new room which doesn’t take long. I’m sorting through it when a text comes through from Jacobs with his new room number.

  I walk out and knock on the dorm room next to mine. When my new neighbor opens the door, his adorable confused line forms between his brows.

  “Hi. I thought I’d introduce myself. I’m Beck. I literally live next door to you now.” I point to my left.

  Jacobs’s face lights up. “Really? That would’ve helped over the summer. Much easier to sneak around.”

  “Shame we won’t be doing that this year, right?”

  He grips my shirt and pulls me inside his room. “Technically, we’ll still be sneaking around for one more day.”

  “About that …” I lick my lips. “Do we really want the first official meeting to be the place to do it?”

  “Yup. Get it out of the way and deal with any issues. Though, I doubt there will be. Grant dealt with some snarky comments, but nothing too bad. It’s the freshmen we’ll probably have to keep an eye on.”

  “Probably.” I lean in, going for his mouth, but he pulls back.

  “Did class registration go okay?”

  I rub the back of my neck. “Uh, not really, but I’ll get it done.”

  “What were you doing all morning? Bribing someone to give you the room next to mine? Geez, it’s as if you like me or something.”

  I grin. “Or something, but our living arrangements were purely coincidental—a sign if you ask me.”

  “Hmm, I don’t know if I believe you, but I get to reap the benefits of whatever deal you made, so I’m not going to complain.”

  Oh, he has no idea how he’ll reap the benefits of what I actually did accomplish this morning.

  He will though.

  Tomorrow.

  29

  Jacobs

  I’m trying really hard to take our rooming situation as a good sign and not a bad omen, because if we break up, that’s going to be a whole world of awkward. Though, I suppose if we break up, we’ll have more than rooms to worry about. Like the team. The Frozen Four.

  Which means there’s only one solution: we work on our relationship just as hard as we fuck.

  I would say it will be easy, but ever since yesterday, Beck’s been … distant. Not completely, but he was distracted all last night, stayed up late on his laptop, and then came to bed after I was already asleep.

  He left my room two hours ago while I was half-asleep. He kissed my head and told me to meet him at our coffee place at eight.

  I jog the whole way down to breakfast. He’s waiting at our table by the back wall with our orders already in front of him, and I can’t wait until I can walk right up and kiss him without holding back.

  Very, very soon.

  “Where’d you run off to this morning?”

  He doesn’t answer me. “It’s about time,” Beck says and kicks out the chair opposite him.

  “We agreed on eight. It’s ten to.”

  He shrugs. “Still too late in my opinion.”

  “And yours is the only one that counts.”

  “See? You’re learning.”

  I shake my head and dig in. It still hasn’t hit me that this is our last year at Colchester. The usual return to school anxiousness has kicked in as I think of the overwhelming amount of coursework. With hockey and the championships on top of that, it’s going to absolutely fly.

  And maybe I should be worried that I’ll graduate this year and possibly say goodbye to Beck. Especially if he has to move to New York and take over his dad’s company, but I take comfort in the knowledge that we’re both stubborn shitheads, and if we want to find a way to stay together, we will.

  “Beck, man, how are you?” Henrikson says, approaching our table. He’s one of our junior defensemen and part of Beck’s usual circle. I don’t miss the confused look he throws me before he does a weird up-nod. “Jacobs.”

  “Henrikson.”

  Beck stands and pulls him into a one-armed hug. “I’m great, how are you?”

  Henrikson pulls a face. “Only good thing about the first day back is hearing all the crazy shit you got up to over break.”

  “Sorry to disappoint, I barely even left the state this year.”

  “What? What h
appened to Greece?”

  Greece?

  Beck shrugs. “Something better came up.”

  “Better than Greece?” I cut in, my smile getting wider. “I knew you never planned summer camp. It was to piss me off, wasn’t it?”

  The cocky bastard winks at me. “Seemed to work out pretty well though.”

  “No complaints from me.”

  Henrikson points at Beck, then swings his finger to me. “What’s happening here?”

  “What do you mean?” Beck asks, and I try not to laugh at how he’s obviously having fun at Henrikson’s expense.

  “You guys aren’t like this. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say a nice word to each other, and now here you are … having breakfast.”

  “It’s been a long summer.”

  “An enlightening summer,” Beck adds.

  “Right.” He’s clearly confused, and he’s not the only one. Anyone who follows the mountain lions knows we can’t stand each other. Maybe it would be fun to mess with people for a bit.

  But then I remember that means hands off, and the idea dies quickly.

  Henrikson says he’ll see us at the team meeting later tonight, and we wave him off.

  “Damn, I just realized I won’t see you again until then too,” I say around a mouthful of my breakfast burrito.

  “Eight solid Beck-less hours. The horror.”

  I kick his shoe. “I’ve gotten used to you being around.”

  “Yeah … you too.” He screws up his face. “Who are we?”

  “Topher and Teddy.”

  “I’m so embarrassed by you.” Beck shakes his head and turns back to his food.

  It takes herculean self-control to sit with him and behave myself.

  We walk too close together as we leave the café, and when we pass the convenience store, Beck glances around and pulls me into a not-at-all secluded alley.

  “Quick, kiss me.”

  I smile as I press a kiss to his lips, linger, then pull back.

  “More.”

  I laugh. “It’s only, what did you say? Eight Jacobs-less hours. Then we can kiss whenever you want.”

  “Fuck yes.”

  He goes to leave, but I quickly grab his hand. “Hey, I know they’re gonna vote for you tonight, and I want to get it out there that I’m okay with it.”