The Hockey Captain I Slept With is My Stepson

RAE

“Merry Christmas!” Mandy exclaimed as soon as the call connected and I huffed in response.

My backpack weighed me down. Yet I couldn’t die until I was made senior features producer at the TV station I worked for. Imagine being this close to beating Jennifer West and then losing to her because I decided to believe the internet.

The article online had said, ‘Ten most exciting things to do in the Adirondacks before you die.’

But then it was more like ‘Ten most exciting ways to kill yourself before your time.’ It definitely downplayed the difficulty and distance. If I knew better, I would have joined a group while the offer was still open.

“There’s really nothing merry about my current situation,” I told her after chugging from my flask of hot chocolate.

“Huh,” Mandy said, and I heard her feet shuffling in the background. “Where are you?”

“Storm Creek, the town you exiled me to, remember?” I stuck the flask back in my backpack and continued hiking through snow.

It was almost midnight and at this rate, I would miss the show.

“For the record, Rae, I’m rolling my eyes. Do people earn a fortune from being exiled?”

“I would have done better in field features, scored more points with Jameson, you know.” I panted.

Up ahead, I noticed a dull light, like it was coming from a settlement. I squinted, using my wolf’s night vision, praying to the moon goddess that this was it. But it was still hard to see because I was just an omega. My wolf was useless, so I never ever bothered to use her.

“A documentary is the best way to show Jameson your versatility. And I exiled you to a small, very unspecial town, which will make him curious,” Mandy explained for the umpteenth time. “Just pick a vertical. Come back in six months and blow our minds. Love you.”

“Mandy—hello?” The call ended.

Great. I had a ton of things to say and nobody to listen.

My work wasn’t due to start until after the new year, but the possibilities the article hinted at were too enticing to overlook.

When I reached the dull light, I was right about it. It was the lodge.

But my smile vanished.

Phones were out. Everyone was at the cliff nearby, laughing and capturing the freaking meteor storm I just risked my life for.

The trees on the way were huge. I had no clue it had started. I fumbled with my backpack, dumping it in the snow and running over to the edge with my tripod and camera despite the ache in my feet.

NASA predicted an ursid outburst that would be visible over western North America a few days ago. Now it’s freaking real.

I hastily turned on my camera, my hands shaking at the breathtaking sight surrounding me.

But as soon as my lens opened, the sky cleared, turning starry black again.

I suddenly couldn’t breathe. If the rental car I took from the airport didn’t slide off the road and break down in the middle of nowhere, I would have been on time.

“We might not see one like this again for decades,” a deep voice said.

I glanced at the guy approaching. He had broad shoulders, really nice dark hair and steel blue eyes that pierced. But what I didn’t need was a fucking reminder that I had messed up.

People gradually drifted away from the cliff, retiring to the lodge in groups. I still hadn’t moved.

“Thanks. I appreciate the knowledge, wikipedia,” I snapped and grabbed my tripod, packing up.

But my camera slipped. It landed lens-down on a rock, destroying what I cherished most. “Shit,” my voice held a tremor.

I stared at the splinters of glass, wondering how I managed to be cursed at everything. Nothing ever went my way.

“Rough timing. Sorry about that,” the guy said, his breaths icing up in the air. “This is yours, isn’t it?” He dusted off snow flakes from my backpack, and then I felt slightly guilty about the way I just treated him.

I was tall for a girl, but he was at least six foot five with impressive muscles hiding behind that winter getup.

He was handsome, and kind enough to notice me while everyone else didn’t.

I grabbed my camera, my backpack, my tripod. Somehow, I stormed to the lodge without tripping or letting anything else drop again.

“What do you mean my booking didn’t go through?” I asked, my voice stretched thin with panic in the compact foyer. “Look here. This is the ticket.”

I showed the manager the receipt on my phone and he shook his head. “The system must have glitched. Someone already reserved room nine two seconds before you did. I’m really sorry, Ms. Rosier. I will process a refund immediately.”

I was agape. I didn’t know what to do or where to go.

The rooms were small and fully booked. There were also no waiting couches out here.

I ended up in the dining room, pulling out a chair, about to cry.

“Do you plan to sit in the cold until morning?”

“Why? Do you have a better idea?” I ran a hand through my blonde hair and looked up. It was the guy from the cliff. Again. “Wait, don’t answer that. I bet you’re about to suggest I sleep in your room.”

“Oh, no.” He shook his head, folding his lips to hide a smile. “I’m here with my teammate, so I actually can’t help you.”

“I blinked, terribly flustered. “Uhm, okay. Great… sorry, I—I’m just having a terrible evening.”

He pulled out the chair next to me, and as he sat, his knee brushed mine.

“I know.” His voice had a silky quality that quickened my pulse. “My name is Malachar.”

I was suddenly drawn to his gaze. “Rachel, but everyone calls me Rae,” I said after a beat.

No matter how simple that introduction looked, a few beers and an unexpected deep conversation was all it took to make my life complicated.

“I like talking to you.”

“Me, too.” His pinky finger unconsciously looped mine over the table. “Has my standing improved… or am I still wikipedia?”

I laughed and it broke into a high-pitched giggle. He was not the funniest person I’ve ever met, but I couldn’t stop smiling. My cheeks hurt.

“Sorry,” I mouthed. “That was really mean.” I giggled again.

“You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

I wasn’t imagining him staring at my mouth. “You think I’m pretty?” I asked and then winced because that screamed desperate for validation, but he didn’t need to know that about me.

“You’ve made it hard for me to focus.”

Malachar never went back to his room that night. We laughed for hours because we were so similar and I forgot about everything else that mattered.

Then he fucked me on the dining table while everyone slept.

I was twenty-eight and it was hands down my best Christmas ever.

At daybreak, I was in his lap, my head against the crook of his neck, his muscular arms tightly wrapped around me.

He was still fast asleep, so I admired him, thinking about what it would be like if I abandoned my life in LA and moved here. I won’t have to worry about Jameson or Jennifer or my overbearing parents and the marriage they were forcing me into in three weeks. I could get nights like the one we just had everyday for the rest of my life.

It was tempting until I found out I had slept with a minor.