Todos los capítulos de Craving the wrong Captain : Capítulo 31 - Capítulo 40

DAVIES"Get your hands off my jersey before you lose some fingers."A zebra-striped referee backed away fast. My chest heaved. Sweat dripped into my eyes, stinging the fresh cut on my cheek. The concrete tunnel leading away from the ice felt like a freezer, but my blood was running boiling hot.Chad slapped my shoulder pad. "Bro, you cooked him! You straight up ended his whole career on live ice!"Julian skated up beside us, his face smeared with his own dried blood. "No cap, Captain. That was the most savage beatdown Wartburg has ever seen. We own this division."The noise from the arena above shook the cinderblock walls. Fans stomped their feet, chanting our team name. We had tied the game on the scoreboard, but we had won the war. Dogfang had broken first. They had resorted to cheap shots, and they had paid the price in teeth and bruises.My left side throbbed. A dull, burning ache pulsed under my chest protector. Nathan had swung his stick like a coward, aiming right for the knife

DAVIES"Straighten your collar, Jeremiah. You look like a common vagrant."Arthur Davies Senior sat at the head of the long mahogany table, swirling a splash of amber bourbon in a crystal glass. His sharp eyes tracked every movement in the dining room. Shadows danced across the high ceiling, cast by the massive chandelier hanging above them.Adjusting the stiff fabric of his dress shirt, Davies swallowed his annoyance. The collar choked his neck, rubbing against a fading bruise from his last hockey brawl. Dinner at the family estate always felt like a hostage situation."Yes, sir," Davies replied, keeping his tone flat.Tonight was not just a family meal. Sitting across the wide table was Richard Sterling, a major real estate investor, alongside his wife and their daughter.Clara Sterling sat directly opposite Davies. She wore a designer silk dress and pearls, projecting pure wealth. She also attended Wartburg College. Throughout the entire first course of roasted duck and asparagus,

DAVIES“Captain, look here!”A dozen camera flashes blinded my vision. Holding the heavy silver MVP plaque, my jaw ached from forcing a polite smile. The press junket dragged on for thirty agonizing minutes. Reporters asked the same boring questions about my slap shot and the Detroit scouts.My mind was not in the press room.It was out in the hallway. I needed to see Maya.When my father forced Clara onto the ice for those photos, I caught a glimpse of Maya’s face behind the glass. She looked devastated. Doing it kept my father off her back, but it felt like stabbing my own chest.“Thank you, that is all for tonight,” shoving past a local sports blogger, my massive frame pushed toward the exit doors.Striding down the concrete tunnel, my skates were already unlaced and swapped for heavy boots. Still wearing my sweaty game jersey, the smell of victory mixed with raw adrenaline.Approaching the locker room entrance, Clara stood alone near the cinderblock wall. She held a cold cup of co

AUTHOR’S POV"Are you going to ignore me all semester, or just today?"Davies leaned against the wooden doorframe of the lecture hall. His towering frame blocked the main exit. Most of the students had already packed their bags and shuffled out into the busy campus corridors.Maya kept her head down. She shoved her economics textbook into her backpack with jerky, frustrated movements. She did not look up. She did not even acknowledge his presence. Pulling the zipper shut with a loud, aggressive rip, she slung the heavy bag over her shoulder."Move," she demanded, marching straight toward him."Not a chance." Crossing his arms over his chest, his dark eyes locked onto her face. "You dodged my texts all night. You sat three rows away from me during the entire lecture. Now you want to run away? Talk to me, Maya.""There is nothing to talk about." She tried to sidestep him, aiming for the narrow gap between his broad shoulder and the doorframe.Stepping sideways, he cut off her escape rou

DAVIES"Pass the damn puck, Julian!"My roar shook the plexiglass barriers. Anger pumped through my veins, hot and blinding.The stadium lights glared down on the ice. The quarter-final qualifier game raged into the second period. We played the Northside Bears, a team known for heavy hits and ugly defensive traps. Usually, picking apart a slow defense was easy work.Tonight, my brain felt like scrambled eggs.Maya's formal, polite rejection replayed in my skull on an endless, torturous loop. *Strictly professional.* She pushed my hand away like my touch carried a disease. She smiled at me on the ice, acting so nice, just to slam a steel door in my face the second we found ourselves alone.It drove me insane. The cold shoulder was bad. The fake, customer-service smile was a thousand times worse.Skating down the center lane, the black rubber puck slid off my stick.A Northside defender snatched the turnover, launching a fast counter-attack. They passed the puck up the ice, weaving arou