Line Change (Utah Fury Hockey Book 3) Read online

  Contents

  Also By Brittney Mulliner

  Exclusive Content

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Thanks for reading!

  Coming in November:

  Wyatt

  About the Author

  Find Out More

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Copyright © 2018 Brittney Mulliner

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-13: 978- 1723872327

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author.

  Also By Brittney Mulliner

  Romance::

  Utah Fury Hockey

  Puck Drop (Reese and Chloe)

  Match Penalty (Erik and Madeline)

  Line Change (Noah and Colby)

  Attaching Zone (Wyatt and Kendall)

  Young Adult:

  Begin Again Series

  Begin Again

  Live Again

  Love Again (Coming Soon)

  Charmed Series

  Finding My Charming

  Finding My Truth (Coming Soon)

  Standalones

  The Invisibles

  Exclusive Content

  For exclusive content and the most up to date news, sign up for

  Brittney’s Reader’s club here

  Line Change

  Rule 205 (b)

  Players may be changed at any time during play from the players' bench, provided that the player or players leaving the ice shall always be at the players' bench and out of the play before any change is made.

  (per USA Hockey Rulebook, https://www.usahockeyrulebook.com/)

  Chapter One

  Noah

  This had to be a dream. It couldn’t really be happening. I was going to wake up any second in my shared room in a grungy apartment.

  Now.

  I pinched myself. No, seriously. This couldn’t be my life.

  “This one is yours.”

  The plaque over the locker read N. Malkin. Holy crap. This was real. The Utah Fury locker room was state of the art. Decked out in black and red to show off the team colors with the logo in the center of the floor.

  My jersey, skates, and helmet were waiting for me. Number forty-one. Malkin.

  I touched the jersey. The cold fabric slid through my fingers as I turned to look around. This was better than I imagined.

  When I was drafted last year to the Utah Fury, I thought that was the greatest moment of my life. But being put on their farm team in Boise wasn’t the dream I thought it would be. It was a lot of grueling practices, traveling in buses, and very little pay.

  Playing in the AHL was a stepping stone to my dream, and I was here. I was in the locker room with Coach Rust. There was a jersey with my name on it. My dream was coming true.

  He gestured to my locker. “Set down your bag and I’ll give you the full tour.”

  I was trying to remain calm, like I saw the inside of my dream team’s lair on a daily basis. Soon I would.

  This was unreal.

  I wanted to ask where the guys were. I couldn’t wait to meet them. Especially Wyatt Hartman. He was one of my idols. Even if he was only five years older than me. I’d watched him for years, and now I was going to play with him.

  Hopefully. I probably wouldn't be on his line, but maybe we’d crossover.

  If this dream could come true, so could that one. I wasn’t far from it.

  Coach Rust led me through the equipment rooms, small meeting room, large theater room, training room, gym, and hydrotherapy area. He gave me a little speech as we were walking, explaining things, but I was in sensory overload. I took it all in like I was seeing Disneyland for the first time. As a kid. Because it wouldn’t be as cool now.

  Who was I kidding? Yes, it would.

  I’d never been. One of the downsides of being Canadian and playing hockey since I was three. Not much time for vacations or normal kid experiences.

  Not that I minded. I was playing in the NHL now.

  Disneyland would always be there.

  My chance in the major league would not.

  Rust turned to me looking much calmer than I felt. Of course, this was all normal to him. He was here every day. I wondered if he had felt this way the first time he walked through. Probably not. He’d been a star on the Dallas team back when he was a player. He was probably used to it by the time he got here. Part of me never wanted to get used to it. I wanted to appreciate where I was and all I’d accomplished every time I entered the arena.

  I wouldn’t become a jaded player who took this for granted. I wouldn’t get caught up in the fame or money or politics. I’d seen too many amazing players get caught up in it. Just a few years ago, the number one draft pick, Randy Hall, lost his contract within six months for taking a sponsorship he shouldn’t have. He cared more about the money than the opportunity to play in the NHL.

  I’d met my childhood hero after a game when I was around eight. He blew off the fans and told us he wasn’t going to sign autographs. He said he wasn’t paid to do that. I’d decided that day, if I ever made it I would appreciate each second and give back to the people that supported me.

  It had been my dream to play professionally since I could remember, and I would not screw this up like those guys had.

  Rust stopped and faced me. “Do you have any questions?”

  I shook my head. When I called my parents last night to tell them I was finally moving up to the majors, they gave me several pieces of advice. They said to be agreeable, be easy to work with, be teachable, do not cause drama, and do not make them regret their decision.

  I took each word to heart. They helped me get this far, they obviously knew what they were talking about.

  “No, sir.” I said. “I appreciate you taking the time to show me around.”

  He nodded once. “Let’s go meet with Coach Romney.”

  I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath. Here it was.

  I followed him through the maze of rooms until we came to his door. I took another deep breath and relaxed my shoulders before I walked in.

  I’d met him briefly at the draft and I’d seen him on TV, but being in his office, alone, was intimidating.

  I sat down and wiped my palms on my pants.

  “It’s good to see you Noah.” He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. Why did I feel like I was in trouble? I couldn’t have possibly done anything to upset him yet. Maybe he saw something from a previous game he didn’t like.

  “You too, sir.”

  “We’re glad to have you here. I do wish it was under different circumstances.”

  I cringed a little. I felt horrible that it took Howe getting seriously injured for me to move up to the team, but I wasn’t going to let it get in the way of my performance.

  “Coach Rust
and I want to make sure you feel welcome on the team and make sure you are taken care of. We know the transition from the AHL to the NHL can be a bit overwhelming.”

  I tried to think of what he meant but couldn't guess. Maybe it was the bigger stage?

  “I’ve spoken with your agent and advised that he set you up with an assistant and financial advisor.”

  Oh. He didn’t think I could handle the fame and money that came with the major leagues. I refrained from telling him my parents raised me right.

  “He said he would set something up,” Coach Romney said.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Good. Practice starts in twenty, so go get ready. I’ll see you on the ice.”

  I stood and shook his hand before leaving the office. Coach Rust had disappeared, so I figured I was finally on my own. Good thing I remembered the tour well enough to get back. Asking for directions on my first day would be embarrassing.

  I walked into the locker room and went back to my name plaque. A few guys were milling around, but they ignored me. I wanted to take out my phone and send a picture of my locker to my parents, but I didn't want them to think I was lame. I was a rookie, but I didn’t need to make a show of it.

  “Hey, Malkin.”

  I turned to see Wyatt Hartman walking toward me with Erik Schultz and Reese Murray at his side. Don’t pass out. Don’t pass out.

  “Hi, Mr. Hartman. Captain. Sir.”

  I wanted to punch myself in the face.

  He smirked. “Hartman or Wyatt is fine.”

  I nodded like he was my commanding officer.

  “Welcome to the Fury. We took a look at your footage from the farm team, and you’re pretty good. We’re glad to have you here.”

  He watched me play? Deep breath. “Thank you, Hartman.”

  Schultz eyed me. “Get changed, your first real practice is about to start.”

  I looked at them and realized they were already dressed. I needed to hurry, or I was going to be last out. Drawing negative attention is not something I wanted on my first day.

  “Thanks. I’ll see you guys out there.”

  I changed and wondered what Schultz meant about my first real practice. I’d been playing since I was three. I think I knew what to expect.

  About thirty minutes into the drills I understood.

  I’d never known my legs could burn like this. If I were able to walk tomorrow it would be a miracle, and we still had two hours left.

  A whistle blew, and the guys gathered at the bench for water. I didn’t want to sit, knowing I’d never stand again so I grabbed a bottle and moved in small circles.

  “How are you doing?” Reese Murray was leaning against the board, casually sipping away like he wasn’t about to die. How nice.

  “I’m okay.”

  I could hear the fatigue in my voice, and judging by his smirk, so could he.

  “It’ll get easier. Don’t push yourself too hard the first few days. It’s better to be slow now, then sitting on the bench by the end of the week.”

  He was right. I needed to pace myself. I needed to prove myself, but I wouldn’t do that if I was passed out on the ice.

  “Thanks.”

  He nodded. “We were all where you are at one point. We understand and so do the coaches. The AHL is no joke, but you’re playing with the championship team now. They didn’t get there by taking it easy.”

  As if I’d forgotten that little detail.

  “Was it a change for you?” I asked. “Coming from Boston?”

  He smiled. “Yeah, but I caught up fast.”

  Good. I wasn’t the only one. I knew I could do it. I would be able to keep up soon. Hopefully within a few days. There was a reason these guys were the very best in the world. They didn’t slack off. Ever.

  The whistle blew away and the guys dropped their bottles. My thighs cried as I skated back to the center.

  Coach Rust separated us, and we played four on four games for the last hour. It was crazy to watch my heroes play each other. They laughed and joked as they raced past me, and when it was my line’s turn to get on, it was an out of body experience.

  I was defending for Olli Letang! The greatest goalie in the league. Schultz and Hartman were coming toward me looking like they were in on a secret.

  I got ready and was able to block Schultz, but he passed to Murray and Olli had to catch it.

  Brassard gave me a pat on the shoulder as he passed me. It was a tiny sign of acceptance. I’d held my own. I’d managed to do what I was supposed to. I looked around, but no one was paying attention to me. At least I wasn’t getting negative attention. No disappointed looks or shaking heads.

  I moved back to the center where they were dropping the puck and took my position. My side won possession, so I faded toward the back, watching, anticipating where I would be needed.

  Hartman took the puck and shot it toward me. I turned and raced after it, passing to the corner. It got picked up by Porter and he took it back to the neutral zone. My heart was racing like I’d run a half-marathon in record breaking time. This was what I’d lived for the past seventeen years. Sure, these guys were insanely good, but when it came down to it, this was the same sport I’d been playing last week in Boise. I knew how to play my position and I was good at it.

  That realization sunk in and I began to enjoy myself. I was at the top of my career, and this was just the beginning.

  Hartman changed direction and came charging toward me. I braced myself, ready to predict his move. His eyes darted to the left, toward the goal. I took a step that direction, just in time for him to dodge to the right.

  He scored, and it was my fault.

  I looked around as he and Murray talked. Brassard skated by, no pat. No fist bump.

  I’d made a mistake. I fell for the misdirection.

  No one said anything to me, but I could feel it. The eyes on me. The wondering if I have what it takes.

  It wouldn’t be the last time. I knew I’d have many more slipups, but this one stung.

  The rest of practice got harder by the minute. I was in my head. I knew I needed to shake it off, but doubt was setting in.

  Chapter Two

  Colby

  My phone vibrated on my desk and I considered ignoring it until I realized it was Bryce Parker calling. I muted my music and answered.

  “This is Colby Wells.” I used my most professional voice.

  “Colby, it’s Bryce. How are you?”

  I pretended like I was on a first name basis with him. “I’m doing well, Bryce. How are you?”

  “Well, I need some help and you were the first person I thought of.”

  Liar. There was no way I was even on his radar.

  “What can I help you with?”

  “I have a client.” A professional athlete of some sort. Bryce was an agent, but I didn’t know who he represented. “He just got called up to the NHL and I think he may be in over his head.”

  That wasn’t uncommon. Young kids get drafted, get a big signing check, spend it all, and end up filing for bankruptcy by the time they’re twenty-three.

  “Sounds interesting.”

  “He’s a good kid, just young.” Probably some fresh-faced nineteen-year-old out on his own for the first time. “He’s just moved from Boise to Salt Lake.”

  “Well, he’s nearby.”

  Bryce laughed like I’d just told the best joke. I was simply stating a fact. I’d graduated from the University of Utah last year and had enough connections here to keep me employed.

  “He’s only been down here for a day. He’s in a hotel.”

  I looked around my home office. Okay, that was being generous. It was my living room that I’d put my desk in and decorated with sports memorabilia from my grandpa’s collection.

  He’d left everything to my dad and me. I had signed baseballs from all the greats, and posters from every major sport. Working with these great men and women had been my goal since I was a little girl. Unfortunately, I lacked the coor
dination to be a decent athlete, and I wasn’t cut throat enough to be an agent, so I’d turned to being a personal assistant. One of my college roommates went on to work for the Utah Jazz and connected me with one of the players looking for part-time help. Since then I’d worked for a few of the basketball and soccer players from the area, but a hockey player would be new.

  I’d met Bryce at an event a few years ago. I was there with one of my soccer players and Bryce confused me for a cocktail waitress. It had been embarrassing but I’d made an impression. We say hello when we run into each other, but this was the first time he’d ever called me.

  “So, he needs someone to set him up here?”

  “Yeah, and you know the area. I was thinking you could get him settled in.”

  “Sure.” For the right price. Not that I was in a position to negotiate. Impressing Bryce could establish myself as an assistant and lock in future jobs.

  “I spoke with his coaches and we agree he needs someone full-time. I’m not sure for how long, but at least the next two to three months.”

  A full-time client who lived close by, handed to me on a silver platter? Yes, please.

  “Let me take a look at my current workload and see if I can fit in another client at this time.”

  “Of course. Just try to get back to me by the end of the day.”

  “Thank you. I’ll talk to you soon, Bryce.”

  “Bye.”