Hat Trick Read online

  Hat Trick

  Kristen Hope Mazzola

  Contents

  Introduction

  Note From the Author

  All books by Kristen Hope Mazzola

  Prologue

  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

  Epilogue

  Want more of Hat Trick’s Characters?

  Did you enjoy what you just read?

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Coming Soon

  Unacceptable

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Other Indie Authors to check out…

  HAT TRICK

  Copyright © 2016 Kristen Hope Mazzola

  Published by Kristen Hope Mazzola

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Published: Kristen Hope Mazzola 2016

  Cover Design: Kristen Hope Mazzola

  Cover Images:

  Model: Lance Jones - Tattoo model

  Photographer: Kruse Images & Photography: Models & Boudoir

  Formatting by: Kristen Hope Mazzola

  Editing by:

  C. Marie: [email protected]

  Proof Reading by:

  Patti Correa: [email protected]

  Created with Vellum

  Introduction

  Hat Trick is a standalone sports romance.

  Synopsis:

  One accident - a freaking car crash.

  That’s all it took to send my brother’s and my life into a tailspin with no end in sight. I was going to be something. I was going to be the best. I had the Olympics in my sights. And it all went to shit in one flash. Brayden wasn’t ready to raise a younger sister when I was thrown into his lap. He had his life and everything going for him. Thankfully, he was still drafted to his dream hockey team. The same one dad played for when we were growing up.

  It took time, but I started to get better, started to open up, started skating and even dating again. I even thought I found the perfect guy for me.

  Isn’t it funny how guys hit on you when they know you’re not available, but when you’re single they won’t give you the freaking time of day? I guess the game is more fun that way. And for the captain of my brother’s team, that’s exactly what I was. A hat trick is three goals in hockey. Some say three is a crowd and they might be right.

  I was Gavin Hayes' unobtainable goal.

  *A No Cheating Standalone*

  Note From the Author

  Thank you for reading Hat Trick. In doing so, you have helped fulfill a very important goal of mine. From every purchase of any of my books, I donate to the Marcie Mazzola Foundation. The mission of the foundation is to "help better the lives of abused and at-risk children, and to build community awareness regarding the needs of children."

  The Marcie Mazzola Foundation was established in 2003 by my family. On July 6, 2002, Marcie died tragically in an automobile accident. Although she was only 21 at the time of her death, Marcie had experienced many things and touched many lives. She was a beautiful young woman whose inner beauty surpassed even her physical beauty because of her compassionate nature and treatment of others.

  At the time of her death, Marcie was involved in a civil lawsuit against a school bus driver who had sexually abused her when she was 11 years old. Prior to her death, it had been expected that the case would be won, but since Marcie could no longer testify, it was going to be next to impossible to win. Marcie’s attorney met with her family to determine if the suit should be continued. He advised the family that Marcie had confided in him her intention to donate her entire award to help sexually and physically abused children if she won the case. Once this was known, the family had no doubt that the suit had to continue.

  The attorney’s strong commitment to Marcie prompted him to proceed with the case, and against all odds, it was won. Marcie’s estate was awarded a monetary settlement. With her attorney’s guidance and continued support, the family established a foundation as a tribute to Marcie’s life, which would continue her legacy to help children.

  To learn more about The Marcie Mazzola Foundation, please visit: http://www.marciemazzolafoundation.org

  Marcie Mazzola Foundation

  158 Burr Road, Commack, NY 11725

  phone: 631-858-1855 • fax: 631-462-8544 email: [email protected]

  All books by Kristen Hope Mazzola

  The Crashing Series:

  Crashing: The Wedding: Cali’s Story (Crashing #0.5)

  Crashing Back Down (Crashing #1)

  Falling Back Together (Crashing #2)

  The Unacceptables MC Standalone Series:

  Unacceptable

  Unspeakable

  The Hysterics Standalone Series:

  The Hysterics

  Colt & Serena: A Hysterics Short Story

  Standalones:

  Stupid Hearts

  Rough & Tumble

  Hat Trick

  Dedication

  To anyone that has been kicked in the balls by love and still believes in it, this one is for you.

  Prologue

  Myla

  Deep slow breaths.

  I could feel every muscle in my body getting ready.

  See the jump.

  Know how it is going to go.

  Feel every movement.

  Visualize.

  One…

  Two…

  Three…

  I could fly. In those few seconds, I could actually fly.

  Pushing myself to limits I never thought possible was incredibly liberating, and pulling off the perfect flying camel was always my favorite. There was something so peaceful about being alone in the rink. My skates gliding over slick, smooth, polished ice…the chilly air nipping at my cheeks and filling my lungs…it was like coming home. I knew I was meant to be there.

  Skating around, listening to my Spotify playlist full of angsty punk rock music—it was the best way to fill an afternoon. Right as Blink-182 started singing about going away to college, my skates left the ice and I was in complete bliss.

  After landing my best inside axel ever, my eyes snapped to the bleachers to find my mother’s smiling face. She was absolutely radiant, practically glowing as she jumped to her feet, clapping and cheering.

  “Do a stag for me!” She beamed as she cupped her hands around her mouth to project her voice out to reach me.

  I rolled my eyes, yelling back to her, “Why do you like splits so muc
h? I just don’t get it.”

  She giggled, shrugging. “What can I say? I just do.”

  “As you wish,” I teased, sticking my tongue out at her as I skated backward to get enough room to pull off her request.

  I set myself up, taking a few slow, deep breaths, counting to myself. Within seconds I was flying again, smiling at my mother as she collapsed where she stood up in the stands. I crashed down onto the ice as a blaring horn drowned out my music.

  My eyes burst open. Lights were all I could see—bright lights barreling toward us. I was strapped into the passenger’s seat. The windshield wipers were frantically trying to keep up with the pouring, freezing rain.

  I screamed as I realized what was actually happening. “Oh my God, Mom! A truck!”

  Crash.

  Darkness.

  Stillness.

  Nothing.

  Chapter 1

  Brayden

  “So, doc…” My eyes traveled down to the blue-gray speckled white floor of my sister’s hospital room as I gripped her hand tighter. “How bad is it, really?” I knew from how mangled the car was that I was lucky she was breathing—even if it was with the help of a machine—but I needed to find a shred of hope that she’d see morning.

  Watching Myla’s tiny frame clinging to life in that hospital bed damn near broke me. Most of the time, I prided myself on being the tough one in the family, but right then and there I was crumbling into a pile of useless emotions, praying for this to all be one sick, twisted nightmare that I needed to wake from.

  The young doctor with a thick red beard put his hand on my shoulder, frowning. “We’re going to do everything we can to save her, Mr. Cox. Go home and get some sleep. We will know more in the morning.”

  I nodded, willing my eyes to travel up my sister’s bedside. The site of a breathing tube coming out of her mouth and the beeping of the machine that was acting as her lungs made my stomach lurch. The cuts and scratches that dappled her fair skin didn’t do the severity of the crash justice. Both of her eyes were black and blue, her cheeks were swollen, and too many bones in her body were shattered. It was purely a miracle that the first responders were able to get her out of the car, let alone stabilize her enough to get her to the hospital and into surgery in time, but they managed it somehow.

  I squeezed her hand one last time, bending down and whispering into her ear, “Myla, if you can hear me, please fight. Please be strong. You’re all I got left. I love you, sis.” I cursed the tear that rolled down my cheek onto hers as I kissed my little sister’s temple.

  Squeaking sneakers sounded behind me. Turning slowly, I locked eyes with a short nurse in purple scrubs sheepishly walking into the room. Her petite figure reminded me of Myla’s, and she had a tiny bounce in her step that made her short, stick-straight hair sway side to side with every step. “Sorry, I just need to check on her.” She bit her bottom lip, looking down at Myla’s chart near the foot of her bed.

  Taking a few steps back to let the nurse do her job, I cleared my throat. “Is it okay if I stay the night here with her?”

  The nurse frowned with her entire tiny frame while shaking her head. “I’m afraid that’s not allowed in critical care, sir. Visiting hours start at seven and end at nine.”

  I glanced down at my watch to see that I was already overstaying my welcome by an hour. Failing at forming a smile, I shoved my hands into my pockets. “All right. I’ll be on my way.”

  Her kind eyes searched mine as more damned tears welled up and a lump the size of Long Island formed in my throat. “I’m Karla. I’m working all night.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a business card and a pen. “Write your cell number here. I’ll call you personally if anything happens.”

  With shaking hands, I did as she asked with more gratitude than I had thought possible. “I don’t really know how to thank you for this.” My voice was weak and fading.

  As I handed her back the business card, I realized how wobbly my hands were. The nerves and worry were starting to get the better of me.

  “Just try to get some rest. Here.” She handed me another business card. “Just in case you get worried during the night, my cell number is on there.”

  “I appreciate it.”

  In what seemed like the blink of an eye, I was making my way to the parking garage on autopilot. Everything was turning into a blur. Unlocking my car, putting my seatbelt on, putting the car in drive—it all felt like I was watching a movie, not actually experiencing it myself. Pulling into the garage at my parents’ house shocked my senses awake; I didn’t even remember pulling onto Elm Street or rounding the corner onto Addison.

  Throwing my keys onto my dresser, I fell back onto my king-sized bed. I didn’t know how I was still moving, breathing, thinking—I just knew I had to keep it up. Myla had to be all right and I had to be strong for her. In just one phone call, my entire life had flipped over on top of me, crushing every bit of my soul. All at once, it hit me—my anger, my rage, my temper. Within minutes, my meticulously manicured room rumbled into a mirror of the torment of my situation.

  After I released all the tension, a wave of realization flooded me. As I stood in the middle of my oversized room with the glass from my mirror scattered around the floor, blood coming from my busted knuckles, and a few new holes that needed to be patched peppering my walls, I couldn’t escape the reality of the day’s occurrences any longer.

  My mother was dead and my sister was in a medically induced coma because of her extensive injuries. The guilt was overwhelming. There was nothing I could have done to prevent the truck from running that stoplight or make my mother buckle her seatbelt, but I was the man of the house and the responsibility of protecting my family was mine to bear.

  The hours ticked by until exhaustion took over. I was startled awake by my alarm clock chiming loudly in my ear, and I realized I was still wearing my sweats and long-sleeved shirt from the practice I had been ripped away from when the hospital called.

  Checking my phone, I saw a few texts from teammates checking up on me, a few voicemails from my assistant coach, and a text from an unsaved number.

  Swiping open my phone, I read words that brought tears of relief to my eyes:

  Just letting you know, your sister did great overnight. I gave your number to the day nurse and will check in later to see how you two are doing. Take care – Karla.

  I quickly rattled off a reply:

  Thank you for letting me know. I am heading that way now. Hope you get some rest after a long night shift.

  After a quick shower, a few bites of cold pizza from a few nights back, and a call to my coach, I made the drive back to the hospital.

  Just be strong.

  Breathe.

  Deep…slow…breaths.

  Everything is going to be fine.

  She’s going to be fine.

  Myla

  Pain and confusion completely consumed every cell in my body.

  “Myla?” Brayden’s voice sounded miles away. “Myla? Can you hear me?”

  I tried to respond but nothing would come out. My throat was a desert begging to rain out words that formed questions and cries for help.

  My hair was being stroked, but my eyes refused to open to see who was caring for me. I pictured my mother’s dainty hand gliding over my thin blonde locks as my brother tried to speak to me.

  Where am I?

  Why does everything hurt?

  Why can’t I speak?

  Why aren’t my eyes opening?

  A foreign voice that was barely audible started to explain something to my brother. “…and that’s why she’s still really out of it. She will be in and out like this for a little bit longer. Why don’t we let her sleep some more and try back in a few hours?”

  Sleep sounded all too blissful. I felt like Scarlett O’Hara in the scene where she is at Tara and life is just all too much for her to deal with in that moment. “I can't think about that right now. If I do, I'll go crazy. I'll think about that tomorrow.”<
br />
  Soft beeping broke into my dream-filled daze as my eyelids struggled to open. Shuffling and footsteps were the next sounds I could understand.

  “Mom?” My voice was raspy and strained as tears started to fill my stinging eyes.

  My brother’s deep voice was kind. “No, My. It’s just me.” I could feel his fingertips brushing my long bangs away from my forehead and cheeks. “It’s nice to see you awake.”

  “What?” I started choking, gasping, and coughing uncontrollably. Everything hurt—my throat, chest, legs, stomach, back, face, eyes, lips. I was shivering and sweating. My body felt like it weighed a million pounds. If my hair could have hurt, I was sure it would have been screaming in pain at that point.

  “You were in an accident. Do you remember anything?” Brayden’s calm tone was freaking me out the most.

  The memories of the crash started to flood my mind and I started hyperventilating. “Mom? Where’s Mom?”

  Brayden’s fingers laced with mine as he started to tell me about the accident. “I’m so sorry, Myla. I don’t know how to tell you this.”

  My eyes would barely open and the tears filling them made it damn near impossible to see, but the pain on my brother’s face was something I would never be able to forget. That moment was seared into my brain—the split second when life turned into a complete horror.

  Chapter 2

  Gavin

  Grabbing a handful of bar peanuts, I shoveled them into my mouth. “This joint really needs to start making some damn food or something. I’m starving.” I chucked a peanut right at Sean’s ear, missing.