Novel & Cerita Hockey Player Books

"Well, in that case, go ahead, sunshine. If you want to tell me something dirty as hell, now's your chance." A slight flush touches her cheeks. "No." The photographer starts clicking away. "So, Jax, what do you do in your spare time?" "I play hockey." He laughs, thinking I'm joking. "No, I mean outside of hockey. People on socials love getting to know the players." I don't want anybody to get to know me. "When I'm not playing hockey, I think about hockey." The interviewer moves on. The photographer circles. "Okay, fabulous. Very nice brooding hockey player thing. But how about less 'scary goalie' vibes and more 'relaxed, smiley, enjoying life' vibes?"

What exactly was so important that he had to hide it in there? Giving up on the safe, my attention shifted to a small library in the corner of the room. Unlike the dominating rows of business and law books—which made perfect sense considering he was the heir to the Vance empire—there was one bottom shelf filled with worn-out covers. They were hockey textbooks and strategy guides from when Ryder was in high school. I pulled out a thick hardcover book on the history of ice hockey with a faint smile, imagining how the ice-cold Ryder could be so obsessed with this sport since his teenage years.

Back in my dorm that night, with nowhere to vent, I logged straight into my hockey-forum alt account: IceTyrant. I found the game-recap post Nathan had put up that afternoon and hammered out a merciless reply. "If this is how you captain a team, you'd be better off coaching a peewee team." "All you do is bulldoze through on brute strength. Did you leave your brain in the locker room?" "Drop your left wing's center of gravity, run a 2-1-2 forecheck to cut off their passing lanes. You can't even read the play that far ahead. You hold a stick like it's a fireplace poker."

Maybe hockey wasn’t for me, like coach said. This proves it. Perhaps I would be better off trying something else. I could only imagine what I would say to father, how I would break the news to him that I didn’t make it to the team. I know he would be disappointed about it, yet he won’t show it, he would try everything to cheer me up. Telling me that there are other sports I can try out, I just wanted to do something that would make him proud, he gave up his dream of playing hockey for me, I thought that if I followed his path then he would not feel guilty anymore for ruining mom’s life.

‘You’re a professional hockey player? ‘Yup, I’ve played 4 seasons for the AHL and one Olympic with Russia’ he confessed nonchalantly, closing his eyes. Awestruck, I just stared, waiting for him to tell me he was joking, but he didn’t. All of a sudden I felt incredibly uncomfortable, bile rising at the back of my throat. Chris and my brothers always talked about pro athletes as if they were god, but hockey players, they were untouchable beings. Here I was, entertaining the idea that Sasha saw something in me. ‘I’m getting out’ I announced. Startled Sasha looked at me quizzically, he attempted to hold me by the hand, but I evaded his touch.

"Hi, babygirl." "Father. You did not tell me the 'dumb jock' was an actual hockey star," I growl out, my eyes glued to the man on my computer, wearing a blue jersey with the number '17'. MY day of birth, by the way, "He is a very famous person. He's been on TV! He won a big flashy trophy called the Stanley Cup. ESPN has a thirty minute segment discussing him!"

The members of the varsity team stopped talking as they waited for Lina to say her next words. They all wondered why their manager, who was only interested in Hockey, stopped me, the troublemaker that didn't even land a shot. Lina cleared her throat as she looked into my eyes. However, it was more like she was looking into my soul instead. "So, you have really played Hockey before?" she asked. For some reason, my short play a while back showed Lina something. The people inside waited for my answer but I paused to think about my answer seriously. "No," I responded. "This is the second time I've played Hockey in my life," I said as I had decided to take the Ethan's tenure out of my career.

Like he thought I would care. I didn't. Damon made sure of that. Hockey players were all the same. They wanted what they wanted and they didn't care who got hurt in the process. They made promises they never kept. They told you one thing and did another. "Good for you," I said flatly. I turned and started walking toward the hockey field. He followed. The walk across campus felt longer than usual. People stared. I could feel their eyes on me. On us. Kael walking behind me like some kind of shadow. I knew what they were thinking. I could almost hear the whispers starting.

She dragged Oliver inside, pushed him into his small bedroom and locked the door from the outside to make him think about his mistake. At the exact same time, Alexander sat in a dark, quiet office back in the city. A private detective sat across the wooden table. The detective handed Alexander a thick brown folder. It was the secret investigation file about the accident five years ago. Alexander opened the folder. His large hands began to shake immediately. His grey eyes moved fast over the typed words. He felt his blood turn into freezing ice. Alexander read the paper out loud. His deep voice trembled badly. "Dr. William Hartley refused to inject the hockey players with illegal doping drugs

“This is just my equipment room.” “Just?” I walked closer to the stuff. I don't want to film with my phone. I'd rather use my camera which I didn't come with. So next time. I typed into my notepad again: He got a spot dedicated to his hockey materials. Extremely organized and neat. I smiled, staring at the photograph. I noticed a book shelf. They're not books related to hockey. “Wait, so you read?” “Yeah. I read novels and books when I'm tired of scrolling.”