Chapter One: Match Mistakes
The crowd raged for all the wrong reasons on the night of the Silverwolf’s penultimate season game.
The game ramped up to be a disappointment for both fans and critics alike when the team’s star player flunked out from the moment the match began.
Elvis knew something was going to go wrong the second he stepped into the rink. His skates were loose, and he suspected someone had tampered with his gear.
But it was too late to turn back, though. All the superstar could manage was to dodge and fumble his way around his teammates to avoid someone getting a blade in their leg.
Someone delivered a painful blow to Elvis during the grueling game, and blood ebbed down his forehead and mingled with his sweat.
He didn’t seem concerned about his injury. Rather than tend to his wound, the hockey star’s eyes snapped up and focused on the auditorium. His gaze trailed along the seats as he frantically searched for someone.
Finally, he spotted her.
She sat with her arms wrapped around her small body. Her face was stricken and pale as she stared back at him across the writhing crowds and jostling hockey players.
When her eyes locked on his, she stood up and edged her way out of the auditorium.
Elvis watched her melt into the throng of people, and his heart clenched in his chest.
“Don’t go. Not again,” he whispered to no one in particular as he made his way toward the edge of the rink. “Please don’t leave me again.”
Nothing but bad news awaited him off of the ice. His manager unleashed a torrent of verbal abuse down on his head, as his teammates slapped his shoulder with tense empathy as they walked past him.
The staggering loss to the rival Baycliff hockey team was already plastered across social media platforms long before Elvis Collins had time to catch his breath.
So, it wasn’t long before the press speculated on what triggered the hockey star’s mishap. They regurgitated details from his private life for the world to see and highlighted every time he found himself caught up in some drama or scandal.
Some claimed his dismal performance on the ice was because of the public breakup between him and Sara Obedair after a recent match. While their recollection of events was a far cry from what had actually happened between Elvis and Sara, it stirred up even more animosity toward the star player.
Others brought up his previous violent conduct and tutted at the downward slope of his reputation over the years. These rumors were also grossly exaggerated, but there was nothing Elvis could do to stop their debates. The hockey star was a gentle giant, boyish and carefree. Unfortunately, the media always portrayed him as a philanthropic playboy kind of celebrity.
To save face, his manager announced Elvis’s suspension from training until the end of the first round of playoffs.
Elvis tried his best to explain his concerns about his equipment having been tampered with, but his coach only shook his head. “Sorry, Collins. It’s an unfair punishment, but the blame needs to fall on someone.”
All Elvis could do was turn his face away from the TV screens.
He ignored the slander and tuned out his manager’s fury.
Amidst all the chaos, Elvis received a text message that notified him of his father’s decision to freeze all of his assets.
Before he could fully comprehend this information, another message went off about his private funds being deducted under the instructions of some anonymous third party.
In the span of a few minutes, Elvis was bankrupt, slandered and fallen from grace. This, however, didn’t seem to bother the hockey star as much as one would expect. He took the pummeling in his stride.
His only concern was Hazel Monroe, the girl in the auditorium. The girl who had disappeared into the crowd just like she had four years earlier.
Hazel wasn’t having a good time, either. The bustling crowd squeezed her half to death as she made her way down to the tunnel to meet Elvis. She was determined to see him, and elbowed her way through the throngs of people while her heartbeat like a drum in her chest.
She was desperate to reach him, desperate not to lose him again.
When she finally made it to where the teams gathered, she stumbled directly into the hunchback of another hulking man.
Gerben Monroe.
Once he recognized the tiny woman, he gripped her arm tightly and pushed his face toward hers with mock surprise. “Well, look who it is?”
Hazel writhed under his grasp and glanced around for help from the other players.
“Let me go, Gerb. I don’t have time for this right now.”
Unfortunately for Hazel, the Baycliff team was a callous bunch, and they offered no rescue from her violent step-brother.
“I’ve been looking for you,” Gerben hissed at his younger sister, while Hazel tried her best to pry his fingers from her forearm. “You cheated me out of a lot of money, Hazel darling.”
Gerben twisted her arm until she thought it might break.
Hazel gave an agonized yelp.
Before she could raise her sneakers to kick him in the shin, a much larger hand closed over Gerben’s and he was wrenched away from Hazel like a rag doll.
Behind her, Elvis towered over Hazel, glaring at Gerben like he was ready to trash his reputation completely and commit murder in broad daylight.
“Well, if it isn’t a good old lover boy!” Gerben taunted, squaring up against Elvis, who moved Hazel to the side. “Glad to see you’re back in the picture. Hazel hasn’t had her pipes cleaned in years.”
“Shut up, Monroe.”
Elvis folded his arms and tilted his head toward the security guard, who was fast approaching the scene. “Unless you want to get kicked out right after your win.”
Gerben grinned, his face beamed with sadistic pride, “Yeah. My win. What a shame you had to choke this round, Collins. Looks like you peaked in college after all.”
This slander continued until a distressed security guard led him away. Elvis turned to Hazel who backed away, and gripped her wrist, “Oh no, you don’t.”
Hazel whined and clawed at his hand, but Elvis held on tight, and pinned her against the side of the tunnel when a torrent of eager fans swarmed past them.
He hadn’t meant to be so forceful, but the crowds were suffocating and Elvis was focused on not allowing her to get trampled.
Hazel was sandwiched between the wall and Elvis’s chest. Her right hand was still caught in his grasp.
Enveloped in his scent and overwhelmed by the noise of the crowd, she couldn’t quite trust her shaky knees to keep her upright. She hadn’t meant to leave him again. She was just surprised by Gerben’s aggressive behavior.
She needed a moment to compose herself. That proved to be impossible when Elvis stared down at her.
Up close, his dark eyes glistened under sandy brown hair, pasted to his forehead by sweat and blood. Hazel wanted nothing more than to bury her face in his neck and let him carry her away.
Hazel liked to think of herself as level-headed. But swarming fans and towering hockey players did not allow for much tranquility.
Elvis knew her well enough to be the shield between her and the rest of the world.
Hazel’s chest was pressed up against his own and Elvis looked down at her quizzically.
He felt confused. Why did Gerben have it out for Hazel? And why was she always so determined to disappear when his back was turned?
“I’ve got some unanswered questions, Hazel.” he mumbled into her ear, sending enthralled chills down her spine.
She couldn’t help it. Pressed against his broad chest, she was transported right back to the night they first met. She had been younger and wilder - wilder when drunk at least.
There was something about Elvis that brought out the hopeless romantic in her. But there was no time for reminiscing just yet. She hoped he wouldn’t smile at her. She knew that if she saw that smile, she’d swoon like the love-struck girl she used to be.
Elvis tugged at her wrist and led her through the crowd. They both ducked their heads to avoid the swiveling cameras of the paparazzi.
The hockey player kept his head down, hoping to avoid the dozens of upset fans who might direct their wrath at him. Hazel hurried to keep up with his long strides. “Where are we going?” she had to shout to be heard over the chaos.
Elvis wanted to talk, but the crowded tunnel wasn’t the best place to do that. Instead, he took Hazel’s hand in his and held on tight. Someone nearly swept Hazel off her feet and Elvis kept close to her, shielding her from the reporters that came sniffing for their next big scoop.
“I believe you have an apology to finish,” Elvis yelled back at her before the two of them ducked out of the building unseen.
He practically carried her, lifting her nearly off the ground in his attempt to keep her safe.
They were both grinning by then. The absurdity of the situation had them chuckling as they stumbled out of the busy arena.
Elvis’s hand moved to her waist as he smoothed down her choppy hair.
Hazel blew her cheeks out, glad to be free of the claustrophobic building, “Wow, all of that just for an apology.”
Elvis rolled his eyes and guided her to where his car was parked, “It better be a good one, Munroe.”
‘I don’t know.’ Elvis’s monologue continued in his head as they walked, ‘I don’t know what I want from you. Just please, don’t disappear again. Please.’
