Captain K'nuckles Flapjack Novels & Stories

Chapter 3 A silver envelope sat on the dark wood of Ryan Carter’s kitchen island. It looked harmless, but it had the power to stop the highest-scoring forward in the National Hockey League in his tracks. Ryan stared down at the elegant silver script across the front. He knew that handwriting instantly, and he certainly knew the name printed right above the return address: Matt "The Monster" Garrity.

He moves with confidence, easy grace, scanning the crowd. When his blue eyes find mine, he grins and raises his stick slightly in acknowledgment. I wave back, forcing a smile. Then the Icefangs take the ice. And there he is. Knox! Number twenty-two. Captain. The C on his jersey is visible even from here. My breath catches. He looks... wrong. Thinner than I remember, even under all the gear. His movements are still fluid, still powerful, but something's off. Like he's moving through water instead of gliding across ice.

"Shut up! No way! Oh my god, you're staying with Brayden Hayes? The actual captain? Miller was telling me some crazy story about Brayden slamming his older brother into the metal lockers yesterday morning, but he wouldn't give me any of the juicy details because he said the team code is sacred. It's an brotherhood of meatheads, I swear." A tiny, genuine laugh bubbled up from my chest, the sound surprising me after so many hours of crying. "Yeah. He definitely slammed Caleb into the steel. I saw the split knuckles last night." "Good! Caleb is an arrogant prick anyway," Chloe hissed, completely matching my voice and energy.

"Now hush up. The first flapjack is always a reject, so whoever wants it must speak up now." Dargan's hand flew into the air. Ciaran's was a second too late. Alvara smiled and plated the first one. There was a hole in the middle from where it got stuck but Dargan didn't complain. Cheese, jam, syrup, and butter were already laid on the counter. Without so much as a second thought, Dargan devoured the thing.

“It's going to be fine. You've got me, and Jackson's just being Jackson. It's not new that you two bicker. Settle it tonight, yeah? He loves you.” I wanted to believe her. But as I stared at the crowded front porch, at the glimpse of a hockey stick logo on someone's jacket, something strange settled in my chest. The hockey team was here. “June…he is here?” I asked, a frown settling on my face. “He is— I am sorry I didn't inform you. I knew you weren't going to bulge. But I am here, Imani.” And he was here. Nicolas Jamieson— the famous hockey player.

The tall one had blonde hair, brown eyes, a bag over his shoulders and daring look while the other had blue hair with blue eyes, his face was cute, like a fallen angel. “That’s Emory and Marsh, Emory is the captain of the hockey team” Xyla whispered in my eyes, it felt like talking about them openly would inquire consequences. I looked over at them, their seat were aligned. Emory sat behind Marsh. A part of the hockey team, I thought about it, seeing them made me excited, I couldn’t wait to apply for the hockey team. “Marsh is the right defenseman” Adele added. I nodded, then she leaned closer.

he smiled, pushing open the metal door that led to the outdoor balcony. The night air was freezing, a perfect contrast to the hot, stuffy gym. The balcony looked out over the dark football field, completely empty and quiet. Ryan walked over to the stone railing, reaching into his tuxedo jacket and pulling out a small silver flask. He unscrewed the cap and took a sip before holding it out to me. "What is it?" I asked, stepping up next to him. "Apple cider and whiskey," he said. "Don't tell Coach."

"That's my job." "Your job is to follow my lead," he snarled, his face inches from mine. "On this team, I am the law. You skate when I say skate. You pass when I say pass. You sit your ass on the bench when I tell you to sit. You got me?" I met his glare, refusing to be the first to look away. "Loud and clear, Captain." For a moment, I thought he might actually hit me. His knuckles were white, his jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might shatter. But then, he did something worse. He leaned in closer, his nose almost brushing my throat, and inhaled.