New Mikka

MIKKA

I didn’t remember walking and my knees were bleeding through my jeans.

Even my coat was soaked from dew drops and my wolf was gone.

I couldn’t go home. Home was a basement room that smelled like him from 2AM visits.

I couldn’t go to the library either, they’d call campus security. 

I couldn’t go to the hospital. No health card. No money. CBSA would be there in an hour.

And that text I'd read earlier only taunts me.

I knew who sent it but saying his name won't stop the issue.

So I went where the ice was. Lakeshore Community Rink. Public. 24 hours. $3 after midnight.

It was supposed to be empty. The zamboni had left puddles. The lights buzzed and it smelled like rubber and cold. 

Holding on to my annoyance, I sat on the bottom bleacher, pressed my bleeding knees together, to stop shaking.

“You left me.” I whispered to her...to myself.

There was no answer just...

THWACK! MISS

THWACK! GLASS.

My shoulders jumped to the sound as I was fidgety.

Someone was on the ice and when I'd looked up, I caught sight of a glowing light at the far end.

It was a guy, in an NHL hoodie with 

Number 7 on the back. No name. 

Wait! I yanked from the bleacher as my lungs forgot to work when the number knocks a memory out of me.

That was seven Calloway.

I knew his face from the billboards. Hot. Sweet smile. "Rookie to Watch" all over the airport last month. He was in every magazine.

But here, under these lights, he did not look sweet. He looked furious.

Ironically, he was Levi’s stepbrother. Same dad after Levi's mom died, different mom, different pack.

They grew up in the same house for 6 years and hated each other before seven left for Canada with his mom.

Now they play for rival teams. I never knew I'd see him live someday.

He was alone, shooting and kept missing before he dropped to his knees like the ice betrayed him.

Seven muttered to himself "Come on. Come on"

I should’ve left.

A Weston just had me dragged out,  called me a leech, a stalker and a threat. 

And now his brother?

But my body was numb. And he looked… lonely.

Before I could think, I shouted. “Your weight’s on your back foot.” 

He froze, his head snapped up. He was beautiful in a wrecked way. 

Messy brown hair. Dark circles under his eyes. Jaw tight.

Nothing like Levi’s sharp edges. Seven looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks.

"What are you doing here?" he questioned, barely looking at my face.

"I didn’t know anyone would be here," I defended, straightening myself. He looked breathtaking from this close.

“Rink’s closed.” His voice was low like a sweet seduction and warning.

His stormy blue eyes were drowning me already but I had to look away.

“So was your shot.”

He skated to the boards, his cold expression froze me on the spot as he was really close now. 

I noticed the dark circles, he looked wrecked, not cruel and when he was close enough, he squinted at my knees. "You're bleeding"

His cold face broke, his tone sounded warm, like he was concerned.

His tone sounded warm, like he was concerned. I hated it.

“I know.” I snapped.

“You need a medic.”

“I need to be invisible.” 

Seven studied my face and a surprise arch formed on his forehead. “You’re with the Beasts?” 

I dried up, knowing it provoked him somehow. "Was" I corrected as his eyes lingered to the torn log on my coat.

"You a coach?"

"No"

"Stalker?"

Levi's words and the way seven pressed on with his attention drifting on me made me breathless.

“No. I’m a ghost" my voice choked "And you’re missing by 6 inches because you’re flinching before you shoot.” I pointed out switching back to the game.

“…Concussion last season. How’d you know?” 

He squinted his eyes at me, like a memory had just shot through him.

“Because I used to fix your stepbrother when his started"

I shouldn't have said that because it broke his face. I didn't even know why I was confessing everything to him.

Maybe because I was shattered.

He stepped off the ice. He was tall. Taller than on the posters. 

And he was shaking, definitely not from the cold but from holding something back.

"Shouldn’t you be at home?" he reprimanded, reconsidering that.

Every of his reply meant one thing "Go away"

"I don’t have one," I responded sadly with crossed arms as he looked like one who wasn't ready to listen to me again.

He picked up another puck. "Still leave." He grunted.

"I just wanted five minutes on the ice," I said. "It’s quiet here."

He tossed the puck, missed and cussed, then swayed his stick on the ice.

His eyes held my gaze, observing and then his brows pulled together.

"You’re Mikka,"

I couldn't tell why my face flushed red, if it was amusement or fear.

"Everyone knows," he continued, "Levi’s stalker. The video shows so and now you have deportation issues CBSA."

I couldn't even swallow as that exposure about me was too much.

The video earlier, those neighbors were after my life and that alone tarnishes my image.

And if they knew about my deportation, Levi must have said that.

He didn't flinch. "And if you're here... it's definitely for me"

"What?" I spilled, astonished by his speculation.

My eyes squinted at him as I could hardly stand on my legs.

"You saw the billboards," he said. "You saw ‘Golden Rookie’. No goals, still playing. You think I’m someone who can fix your visa." 

I didn’t answer, as my jaw dropped. Because I hadn’t thought of it until he said it.

And suddenly my brain lit up with something desperate and stupid and perfect.

Exactly! I can use this golden rookie to keep me in Canada, make him win over Levi for the perfect revenge.

Make Levi watch. Make him choke and escape that nightmare text by not returning.

"Say it," he reckoned like he was reading my mind.

These two words had him stepping forward as his eyes pierced me like a predator watching a bunny.

I took a breath, closed my eyes briefly. "...yes"

He scoffed like his assumption was true. I couldn't think of anything else.

His eyes trace me like the very thing that matters or it was just my delusions.

“Fake date me,” I folded my lips as it killed my pride to be saying this. “For 24 hours please. Just Photos, Public. CBSA sees I’m not a flight risk. I’d keep my scholarship.”

He cocked a brow, startled because he was never expected to hear that part.

The hockey stick would have fallen from his hand if he hadn't held it to his chest.

But I lifted my chin, knowing such a deal had to profit him too.

“And I’ll make you a champion.” 

He crossed his arms, his sleeves pulled tight and I hated that my eyes went there first, to see the way those muscles rippled.

Hated that my lips parted.

My heart was a thunder storm and my dead quiet wolf twitched awake, her ears up to listen.

"You want to use me," he responded bluntly, not raising his voice like he was used to it.

When those eyes settled on me, my sanity was gone. He was the most beautiful man I'd ever seen, I confess to that.

“I can help you too,” I rushed, wanting to make sense at least. “You have a face. The name. You just don’t have goals. I played junior in Australia. I can read your shot in 10 seconds.—”

“I don’t need help.” He interrupted, breathing so hard and his eyes boiled my skin.

“Then why are you missing?”

My head whipped up, as I held his lingering gaze on me.

Even if we were far apart, I felt his heat coursing through me and that sent a stir up in my wolf. She whined.

The question hit him and for a moment, his jaw unclenched, his eyes dropped. 

I also traced sweat on his forehead causing my knees to quake.

He saw it and grimaced, running his fingers through his head, as though exhausted.

“Find someone else.”

My chest hurts like he punched it.

"Well I wish I could" I said in a sober tone flailing my hands "But I think we both need each other at this point."

He began to walk back.

“I’ll make you score,” I said to his back. “More than Levi. I swear it.”

He stopped but didn’t turn. Those shoulders rose once but dropped like he was reminiscing over something.

My fingers were crossed, my wolf widened her eyes in anticipation.

“Unfortunately,” he said, “I’m not interested and mostly not with someone involved with levi”

He picked up his bag.

“Seven—”

I'd almost taken two steps closer but he was already at the door yet my desperation hoped that he'd accept me.

“Goodnight, Mikka.”

He didn't even look at me again and slammed the door at me.

I swore I heard him stop on the other side, drew in a long breath and his footsteps stomped off.

The cold I'd once shut returned and I sat there, for minutes gazing at the empty rink like it would give him back.

My knees were bleeding again, I didn’t notice until I saw red on my jeans.

Just when my mind was driven to my knees, I heard footsteps.

My heart dropped to the floor. CBSA. It had to be. 

Seven called them on me, must have reported I was causing him nuisance when I just have tomorrow to leave.

I scrambled up, my knees protested forcing me to slip on a wet patch and I bit back a cry.

“Don’t—” I whispered, already turning to run. “Don’t touch me.”

“Miss? Miss, stop.”

My eyes took a lucid scan at them. It was a woman in scrubs, a man with a medical bag, both panting like they ran here.

I froze against the bleachers, heckled and set my teeth on edge.

“We’re doctors,” the woman introduced, hands up, slow as though calming me down. “From St. Luke’s. Campus called us.”

"I didn't call anyone" I professed in a strained tone.

The man was closer now as he knelt but not close. “Your knee’s pretty bad. Can we look?”

Unrelaxed, I shook my head. “I don’t have— I can’t pay. CBSA—”

“You’re not in trouble,” the woman hinted softly. “Someone already covered it.” 

My mind went blank.

“Who?”

The man unzipped the bag, brought out Gauze and antiseptics.

“Number 7” he reworded beneath his breath. “Calloway. Said a girl got hurt at the rink. Told us to come fast and paid cash at the front desk on his way out.”

I struggled to breath, incredulous about his act as I watched the man quietly.

The woman eased my jeans up and cleaned my knee with antiseptics. It stung but my eyes stung worse.

“Hold still, sweetheart,” she purred but I didn't. My eyes focused on the door he walked out of.

He hated me, I took note of his every reaction when he was close to me.

If he could be cruel and kind on the same night…

What the hell was I supposed to do with that?

My phone jerked against my thighs. Same Australia number. I closed up the phone to my chest, to avoid these two paramedics from noticing.

The message this time around had a photo attached to it.

It was a paper with mom's signature. A caption reads: "You used our money to get to Canada $50, 000. Debt’s due Friday. Or we take you."

My stomach twisted as the realization dawned on me.

Mom took a loan against her insurance to bring me and Levi here.

But Levi spent it all and now the loan sharks wanted me to pay.

Australia wasn’t home!

It was the men mom’s money was owed to.