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

  I slap his ass. “Good. Then we have some work to do.”

  “Work?”

  “We’re going to figure out a way for you to get what you want, impress your dad, and start working toward your hockey camp idea all without killing yourself from exhaustion.”

  “Y-you’re going to help?”

  I take a seat at my desk and open my laptop. “What are teammates for?”

  Beck kisses my head. “Partners.”

  I lift my chin so I can look at him standing over me. “Partners. Whatever happens next year, I want to do it together.”

  He leans over me, touching his lips to mine. “You’re pretty good at this boyfriend thing.”

  Beck tries to pull away, but I grab the back of his neck to kiss him again, deeper and slower, with no thoughts of it leading further than where we’re at. And maybe we’re getting ahead of ourselves, maybe this future we’re planning won’t happen at all, but the great thing is, we don’t need to figure it out right now.

  As long as we have a plan, our stubborn asses will make it happen.

  32

  Beck

  I have no idea why the thought of telling Jacobs about my father’s ultimatum and my plan to set myself free was so daunting.

  It didn’t have anything to do with thinking he wouldn’t support it and everything to do with how much I have riding on this.

  This is my chance to be free of the expectations my parents have instilled in me from the moment I was born. I need my pitch to be faultless so Dad doesn’t have any other choice than to back me.

  Starting my own hockey camp will need a whole financial plan, a leasable site that has easy access for students to get to over summer and possibly early mornings during the semester so I can have it operating year-round.

  I could recruit coaches from colleges for the bigger capacities over summer, and I was even thinking Jacobs could bat his eyelashes at his bestie and get Foster Grant involved too. If we had NHL stars dropping in for special days, enrollments would be at capacity. It has the potential to make a lot of money.

  Then I need to think of insurance, housing, following NCAA rules to make sure all students would be eligible for college entry … There’s a lot to do in a short amount of time.

  Even though this is my long-term plan, I have to present the whole plan to Dad before graduation.

  I’m in the middle of reading infrastructure legislation, because that’s always fun, when the door to my dorm room flies open, and my boyfriend walks in with two cups of coffee from the campus coffee cart.

  “Oh my God, I love you.” I reach for the precious, precious liquid.

  “Aww, I love you—wait, you’re talking to the coffee, aren’t you?”

  “I love both of you equally. Don’t make me choose!”

  “Oh, I think it will be an easy choice once I tell you the little nugget of information I learned from Zach’s angry friend Ray at breakfast.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “You’re looking at this as an opportunity to make money, right? She thinks you’ve got that all wrong.”

  “Oh, great. Yeah, that really makes me love you. You’re right.”

  “Let me finish, Mr. Impatient. What if it’s set up as a nonprofit? Ray pointed out that a huge company like Beckett Enterprises would always be looking for tax write-offs. Having a nonprofit under the Beckett Enterprises umbrella will mean funding, and you will technically still work for your dad. You both can win.”

  Holy shit.

  “That’s the angle,” I say. “That’s what could get this approved. And it could help less-fortunate kids who can’t afford hockey coaching.”

  “Like me.” Jacobs hangs his head. “I would’ve killed for an opportunity like this. I was lucky enough to get in because of my natural talent, but we could barely afford my hockey gear let alone extra coaching. I could have been the next Foster Grant with it, who knows.”

  Excitement over this project replaces the anxiety over the workload to get it done.

  “I could kiss Ray!”

  Jacobs’s face screws up. “I wouldn’t if I were you. She probably bites.”

  I laugh. “I’ll kiss you instead and thank her later.”

  “That sounds like a better plan.” He leans in and touches his lips to mine, but then my phone beeps with a reminder. “Shit. I have to go meet with my advisor.”

  “Again? Have you come up with a plan on how you’re going to fit in a billion classes in two semesters?”

  “Yup. And it technically doesn’t break Dad’s rules, though I know he’s not going to be happy about it.”

  “Sounds like a very Beck thing to do.”

  “Right? His rules say I have to have a plan before graduation, right? But he didn’t say when I have to graduate by. I’m hoping to defer all my senior subjects until next year and do my minor courses over the next two semesters.”

  Jacobs grins. “It’s evil, and I love it. Even if it means I look for a job in Burlington after graduation.”

  “You’ll stay for me?”

  There’s no hesitation as my boyfriend nods. “I can still help out at home on weekends.”

  “I can come too. Your family loves me.”

  He pats my cheek. “Sure they do.”

  “Hey, they do!”

  “Mmhmm.” Jacobs pulls me close. “I know you need to go, but first I want to say, I like planning a future with you.”

  I groan. “You can’t say shit like that right before I leave. It makes me want to blow off my meeting and blow something else instead.”

  His lips land on my cheek. “Go see your advisor, then come right back and blow me. I’ll be waiting.”

  This is going to be the fastest meeting in history.

  Jacobs grips my shoulders. “You’ve got this. No need to be nervous.”

  “Nervous? I’m not nervous.” I’d believe that too if my voice didn’t sound like a six-year-old girl’s.

  While most families over their Thanksgiving break are spending time together and eating their weight in food, Jacobs and I are at Beckett Enterprises to meet with my father and give him my life plan.

  Will it make me rich? No. But it will give me enough money to live happily with Jacobs at my side. We’ll have to live in an apartment instead of a house. We’ll have to eat ramen instead of restaurant meals.

  But if being with Jacobs has taught me anything, it’s that you can still succeed and be happy without disposable income.

  I’m not saying it’s going to be easy, but I choose fulfillment over money.

  I choose giving instead of taking.

  But more importantly, I choose my own path in life.

  “It’s a great plan,” Jacobs says. “And if he says no, we still have the next two years to come up with something better.”

  I haven’t told Jacobs yet, but if my dad says no to this plan, I’ve decided I’m going to chase this future anyway. Even without Dad’s financial help. It will take longer and will be a lot harder, but it’s something I want to do.

  Coaching is the only thing I’ve ever found true passion in, and it’s not something I see as a passing high. It’s not a temporary feeling. It’s my calling.

  “I’ll be right here when you’re done.” Jacobs gives my arm a squeeze and sends me into the intimidating boardroom where my father sits at the end of the long, empty table with his business persona in full force.

  We arrived in New York last night, and I was ready to pitch it to him then and there, but he decided he needs to make me sweat by asking for a full presentation while his offices are empty.

  I know it’s an intimidation tactic, and I know he’s doing it because he’s still hoping I will fail to impress him so he can try to push his original idea of my future onto me.

  I have a folder with all the information I’ve gathered over the last three months, and I slide it over to him.

  “Growing up, you and Mom always wanted the best for Baby and me. We attended daycare that cost more than rent. We
went to the best schools. Had every opportunity handed to us. And I can speak for both Baby and myself when I say we’re incredibly grateful for everything you’ve done for us.”

  He looks like he doesn’t believe me. “So that’s why you’re turning down your position here?”

  Snarky much?

  I don’t let him get to me. “I may not want the future you’ve mapped out for me, but I can appreciate my upbringing. I’ve never wanted for anything other than the choice to do what I want when I grow up.”

  “And what have you come up with?” He opens the folder of information and must get stuck on the first page. “Hockey? Really? Please don’t tell me you’ve come all this way to pitch ideas of being a hockey player.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” I mutter. “I don’t want to be a professional hockey player. I want to be a coach. Not just any coach. I want to run a non-for-profit camp to help underprivileged kids receive a little of what you gave me growing up.”

  “That’s … noble of you. This is surprising. How do you expect to get funding for this or live the lifestyle you’re accustomed to?”

  “It won’t make me rich. Not by a long shot. And I’m okay with that. In terms of funding …”

  I slip into all the stats and tax benefits and give him as professional a pitch as I can.

  “I will still technically be involved with Beckett Enterprises, which is what you’ve always wanted.”

  His fingers steeple under his chin. “I will need to take it to the board of directors for their approval which will be a hard sell.”

  “Think of the tax write-offs.”

  I could be wrong, but I swear that’s pride shining in his eyes.

  Dad sighs. “Such a waste.”

  My heart skips a beat and starts to sink into my gut.

  “Waste?”

  “You came up with this plan in three months, and it’s a better pitch than a lot of the shit we see here. I’m disappointed we won’t have your brain where I still believe it should be, but I made a deal with you. I gave you my word, and even though I expected you to come up with something I could easily shoot down … something selfish …” He shakes his head. “I can’t in good conscience lie and tell you your idea is stupid, because it’s not.”

  My chest puffs out with pride, but I can’t take all the credit. “If it makes you feel any better, this wasn’t just my idea. It was a group effort. I came up with the coaching and the camp, but Jacobs and a friend from school helped with the business side of things, and guess who I called for all the information on business tax?”

  He blinks at me.

  “Baby. You really need to give her a chance, Dad. She’s brilliant.”

  “I know she is, boy. I’m not blind.”

  “Then why—”

  “I’m old-fashioned, I know it, but it’s not only that. I want to protect her from this world.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Huh?”

  “It’s harder for women to rise to the top. There’s misogyny and the pay gap, and there’s a lot of obstacles she would have to face. I want to protect her from it all.”

  Realization dawns. “Is that why you freaked out when you found me with Jacobs? Because you knew how much harder it would be for me to live in your world as a queer man?”

  It’s subtle, but he nods. “I like your boyfriend. Especially if this new side of you has anything to do with him.”

  Apparently, my father has a heart. Who knew?

  “While I understand your need to protect Baby, I think you’re not giving her enough credit. The only way to make change in your misogynistic and sexist world is to let her break those glass ceilings. Talk to her about it because she actually wants this chance.”

  “I will.” Dad stands. “I’ll need to take your pitch to the board—”

  “Just know, that even if they say no, this is what I want to do with my life, and I’m going to make it happen.”

  A smile breaks through on my dad’s face. “I’ll push it through. I promise.”

  I can’t have heard that right. “Really?” It comes out a lot louder than I intended.

  “Your future is yours, so go live it.”

  The door opens a fraction, and my future sticks his head inside. “I heard yelling. Is there yelling?”

  “He loved it.”

  “I did,” Dad says. “You’ll get your camp.”

  Jacobs pushes open the door, and in two seconds flat, his arms are around me. He buries his head in my neck. “You did it.”

  “We did it.”

  He kisses me hard, and I get so lost in him, I almost forget my dad is in the room.

  That is, until he clears his throat and says, “Let’s go home and eat some turkey.”

  I pull away from Jacobs. “And talk to Baby.”

  “Yes, and talk to Baby.”

  Everything feels right with the world, and with Jacobs’s hand in mine as we walk to the car, the gentle calmness of him mixed with adrenaline makes me realize something.

  I’m truly happy for the first time in my life.

  33

  Beck

  New Year’s Eve

  “Montreal, bitches!” I bodycheck Jacobs, who isn’t expecting it, so he stumbles into Cohen, and then it’s a domino effect, Cohen bumping Grant’s brother, Seth, who slams against his car.

  Seth’s the same height as Grant, but he’s nowhere near as muscular. Underneath his billion layers of clothing, he’s all skinny arms and legs. It’s hard to believe they’re twins, honestly.

  He turns to Zach. “Why did you invite the hockey players again?”

  “Well, technically,” I cut in, “he invited Jacobs because he’s Grant’s bestie. Which means I was automatically invited because I’m Jacobs’s better half—emphasis on better—”

  Jacobs shoves me.

  I ignore him and keep going. “And then Cohen …” I look over at our teammate. “Wait, why are you coming?”

  Cohen flips me off. “Grant invited me, asshole.”

  “Still don’t know why we’re going in one car,” Seth mutters.

  I hold my hand over my heart. “You love us. You really love us.”

  Seth glares at Jacobs. “Put a leash on that.” He waves toward me, and I laugh.

  I lean in closer to my boyfriend and lower my voice. “He doesn’t know I might like it. Also, Grant’s brother is fun. He’s like how you used to treat me. Brings back memories.”

  “Maybe don’t taunt him? He’ll abandon us in Montreal.”

  “Ooh, we could hitchhike back. That could be an adventure.”

  Jacobs scowls. “Maybe Seth’s right. You do need a leash.”

  “A leash and a ball gag. Now look who’s kinky?”

  Jacobs levels me with a look.

  “Fine. I’ll behave.”

  The others get in the car, and then Jacobs and I try to push each other to get in first to take the middle.

  “I’m bigger than you,” I argue. “Why can’t one of the scrawny-asses up front take the middle?”

  “Because it’s my car, asshole!” Seth yells from the driver’s seat.

  Jacobs stands his ground and folds his arms across his impressive chest. Not as impressive as mine, but whatever.

  I throw my hands up and relent. “All right. Let’s do this. Maybe I’ll see if I like being squished between two guys. We never did work out if it’s guys in general or just you who does it for me. This could be, like, an experiment.”

  Jacobs pulls me back and climbs into the middle seat.

  My inner self is screaming, Victory!

  It might be true I still haven’t found another guy attractive, but Grant’s pansexual explanation made me do a little research. Which made me fall into the world of Schitt’s Creek. All I can say is, David’s phrase “I like the wine and not the label” definitely appeals to me.

  There’s always been this connection with Jacobs, even when we were fighting. Even when we hated each other, we worked well on the ice because we’ve been fundamenta
lly intertwined since we met.

  It didn’t matter he was a guy. Although, looking back on it, the fact he’s a guy probably prolonged the inevitable revelation that we were meant to be together.

  Even though Seth’s car is a Jeep Cherokee, putting three hockey players in the back is still squishy.

  Jacobs squirms in the middle, trying to get comfortable, but we’ve barely made it onto the I-89 when he squirms again.

  I lean forward. “Hey, Cohen, maybe you should’ve sat in the middle and rubbed up against us. That’s normal, right? Not gay at all?”

  Jacobs snickers.

  “Ignoring that,” Cohen sings.

  “Did you ever get ahold of your best friend from back home? The non-gay one?” I smirk.

  He looks away. “He may or may not be happily engaged … to a dude.”

  I bark out a laugh.

  “God, I hate you guys.”

  Two hours is longer than I thought it would be. This road trip up north feels longer than the drive to New York.

  By the time Seth’s pulling into the hotel Grant booked for us, one block from where he’s playing tonight, I think everyone is ready to throw me out of the car … while it’s still moving. Even Jacobs, and he loves me.

  Grant comes to meet us while Seth gives the valet his keys, and we grab our bags.

  “Shouldn’t you be at the stadium?” Jacobs asks.

  “Pregame downtime. Have to get back there soon.” He hands a hotel key to Jacobs and then his brother. “Already checked you guys in.”

  Cohen clears his throat. “And me?”

  “I tried to add another room to the booking, but it’s New Year’s, man. Everywhere is booked out. You can come crash in my apartment, but warning you in advance, I haven’t seen my boyfriend since Christmas.”

  I snort. “That was six days ago.”

  Grant cocks his eyebrow. “And if you hadn’t seen Jacobs for six days?”

  “Touché.” I throw my arm around Jacobs and pull him close to me even though we spent the last two hours plastered to each other’s sides. And, oh shit. I remember looking at Grant and Zach and wondering what it would be like to feel that need to be close to someone. I run my hand over Jacobs’s back and smile.