Jj Mccarthy Hockey Mga Nobela at Kwento

I let out a heavy sigh, shifting my weight to stand up, but Jessica reached out and pressed both hands against my chest, pushing me firmly back into the sofa. “You look completely dead on your feet, Lu,” she murmured, her voice softening. “How about I grab you something cold to drink before you collapse?” At the mere mention of a drink, my throat burned with a dry ache, reminding me just how little water or food I’d had since driving across the state. “Make it something cold,” I muttered, leaning my head back against the cushion. “Sure thing,” Jessica replied, flashing me a slow, deliberate wink as she stood up. She returned a moment later holding an icy bottle of beer. “Here you go, papi. Y

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.

Juan, with intimidation and harsh warnings, ordered me to stay in my room or leave the house within a certain period of time. That's fucking crazy. But that's what happened to me. In the hands of my crazy, overprotective brother. The legal psychopath of our family. I stuck close to Juan for the first hour, but soon he was distracted, laughing with his teammates and getting pulled into drinking games. I, on the other hand, hovered by the pool, nibbling on snacks, bored out of my mind. That’s when Travis appeared beside me, holding out a drink. “Orange juice,” he said smoothly.

"Now what do we have here? A beautiful garden. See, Ryan? Your sister is planning a future in fine arts, and you’re planning a future in assault." "Hockey isn't assault, it’s a sport!" Ryan argued, running off to the living room to turn on the TV. Within seconds, the familiar, booming voice of a sports commentator filled the apartment. "And with the playoffs just weeks away, all eyes are on the Chicago Blizzard. Captain Aaron Carter is coming off a thirty-goal season, earning him the moniker 'The Ice King' once again. But sources say his off-ice demeanor remains as frosty as ever—" I lunged for the remote on the counter and hit mute so fast the plastic clicked.

REMINGTON 11 MONTHS, 23 DAYS LATER. “We… won?” I muttered beneath my breath, eyes glued to my phone, watching the hockey match live. “We fucking won!” I screamed at the top of my voice, earning a groan from Clark and a grumble from my mum. This was the final match in a major competition, and our school — Chastity Verse — won. “Pull over!” I ordered the driver behind the wheel. He glanced backwards at my mum, who groaned in frustration.

I knew this was what he wanted, and I was this close to giving him just what he wanted. He wanted to rile me up, and he had successfully done that. My hands itched to meet his face but I refrained from the temptation. I wasn't going to take his bait. This could ruin everything I had built when it came to my grades and hockey. Don't give in, Justin. He's just jealous. “Fuck. Off.” I gritted out as I released his collar and pushed him away from me. His eyes held disappointment, this was clearly not the reaction he wanted to see.

His voice was low enough that only I could hear it under the noise. "You look exhausted, Captain. Starting to break already?" Something inside me cracked open. I do not fight on the ice. That is not who I am. I have played twelve seasons of professional hockey and in those twelve seasons I have received exactly two fighting majors, both of them in my rookie year when I still had something to prove. I am composed, I am controlled. I am the kind of player who smiles at the camera and taps gloves at the end of a loss and says the right things in post-game interviews. My father built that image and I had maintained it for over a decade because it was the only version of myself I was allowed to b

“Why the rush? I thought you didn’t have class until eleven. It’s eight.” He shrugs. “Well, I told you I wanted to join the hockey team. They’re having trials today.” …What? Before I can even process that, he just leaves. Straight-up dishes me like I’m yesterday’s leftovers. I can’t believe this. And hockey trials? Lucas is studying medicine, how the hell is he planning to juggle that with hockey? Still trying to recover from the betrayal, I make my way to class, where Mia and Lily are waiting for me. Thank the goddess for them…they always save me the best seats.

Man is he going to brag about that to his friends later today. “Good shot.” I tell him as I help him take the cones off the ice. “Thank you. I couldn’t believe it. I’ve never tried that move before, but I saw Jenkins do it once and thought I’d give it a go.” Jenkins plays for Vancouver, he’s a mean ass player if ever there was one. “Well kid, it worked out for you. Keep it up and you’ll be on the team in a few years after college.” “Thanks, Cody.”

"Let's not talk about Coach Jim anymore! The clock is ticking and the applicants are going to be pouring in any minute now." John nodded to their other teammates to come round. The others stopped roaming around with their skates and went to the table where the three were settled. They fell silent as John stepped forward. They fixed their eyes on the charismatic leader who had steered them through victories and defeats during the last two years. John adjudged his well-worn Hockey jersey, the number 4 on the front like a badge of honor.