Falling For Cruz: Ravens Hockey Series, #1

By Elizabeth Hayes

True
My life revolved around hockey. 
The good, the bad, and everything in between. 
My one rule: never date a player.
Then I met Cruz.
If only I would stop falling into him.

Nolan
My entire life was hockey.
Then I met True.
If only I could convince her:
Falling for me wouldn't be the worst thing.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Elizabeth Hayes
• Release date: Mar 17, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201208394

Book preview

Table Of Contents

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-six

Chapter Twenty-seven

Chapter Twenty-eight

Chapter Twenty-nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-one

Chapter Thirty-two

Chapter Thirty-three

Chapter Thirty-four

Chapter Thirty-five

Chapter Thirty-six

Chapter Thirty-seven

Chapter Thirty-eight

Chapter Thirty-nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-one

Chapter Forty-two

Dedication

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Stephanie, because without her pushing me

I probably would have given up by now.

Chapter One

True

––––––––

I tried to keep who my dad was a secret. Maybe not a secret, but I didn’t come out and say "Yeah, my dad was Trent Burr, or how most people know him as Ice, the best forward to have played in the NHL. Still to me he was just Dad. Even if it was only for the short five years he was in my life.

Nothing good came from people knowing who my dad was. At least not for me. Good, great I’m glad you all thought my dad was amazing. And maybe he was. I will never know because I don’t have many memories of him, just a few pictures of us together that my grandpa had hanging in his office. Right there in front of the world my dad took his last breath. Because there he was on the ice, in front of everyone, when his heart beat its last beat and he collapsed. It’s fitting though from what I’ve heard about him: He lived for hockey. He lived to play. And we can’t forget, he died doing what he loved. Thanks. Thanks for that. I’m glad he died doing what he loved instead of being a dad or a husband. Because who cares about what he left at home? They only cared that he left the sport. Sure, he loved the ice but he loved me too. And with every year that passed it’s gotten harder and harder to remember that. It wasn’t like Mom wants to remember. She went from beloved hockey wife to widow to jersey-chaser. Jumped right from bed to bed until she got knocked up by my now stepdad. Yay me.

Can’t blame her though, because she didn’t get much after my dad died. Everything in his will and life insurance went solely to me. She did get the house and like one million: enough to live the life she loved for maybe a year. Doesn’t matter though, because for some reason life hates me. It wants to keep reminding me what hockey took from me. Also, I can admit that I’m a bitch. I’m not nice. I hate people and I don’t like jocks. And before you ask if I’ve tried it, duh, yeah—I have and each time it didn’t work. They put the sport above everything. I’m tired of coming in second best. I’m still a little sore about that, and I really just want to meet some nice guy who puts me first. And doesn’t want to spend ninety-nine percent of his time on ice, on the field, or the court. Nope. Not going to do it. Right now, I just want to get this college visit over with. The best part is, it’s not even for me. Nope I get the privilege of escorting my eighteen-year-old stepbrother. Why you might ask? Well, it’s simple. I’m the one with the connections to this place and my mom and stepdad want me to get my mediocre stepbrother a spot on the hockey team. Nice, right?

They want me to use my last name to get him a spot on a team he can’t even keep up with.

So yeah, he did okay, I guess. But he isn’t going to go pro, no matter what our parents want. He just isn’t good enough. Hell, the idiot can’t even score on me, or block me! And I don’t even play, other than for fun. Okay, so during my stays with my grandparents I may have played every day, my grandpa made me work on my stick skills for hours at a time.

Did I like hockey? Yes.

Did I want to play? No.

But I liked the feeling it gave me when I played. I liked that it made me feel like I knew my dad, especially when I was with my grandpa. So that’s what we would do. And now I’m using my name to help my idiot stepbrother walk on to a team he doesn’t deserve to be on and take a spot from someone who deserves it.

We spent the last hour in complete silence. While I was trying to get my head on straight and my people skills ready, Link had his face in his phone and his earbuds in.

Ready? I look over at Link as I put my car in park.

I guess. He shrugs, pocketing his phone as he gets out of the car. I take a deep breath and let it out as I prepare myself for people. Yes, I have to prepare myself. Get my head in the right space and plaster a smile on my face to be the perfect little princess.

Puke.

Let’s get this shit done, Link. Get you a spot and get back home. . . Yeah?

Whatever.

Great. I have a feeling this is more our parents doing than anything, but hopefully he can charm the shit out of the coach, and I won’t have to do or say much. But... fuck! Link has the vocab of a toddler and the people skills of a monkey. Even I, Ms. Anxiety, have better people skills than him!

I roll my eyes and make my way to the training center, hoping the coach is alone and I won’t have to deal with more than just him apologizing for my loss and telling me how great my dad was.

Here’s the thing: I already know. I don’t need to be reminded time and time again that I don’t have him here with me. That’s the great thing about the internet. Every time I want to see my dad, all I have to do is punch his name into the search bar, and there he is, smiling at the camera.

We reach the front doors, and I have to take a second before entering. The smell of the ice always makes me want to skate. Something I haven’t done in a while. Reminding me I need to visit my grandpa soon.

What did he say? Two thirty, meet him on the ice, or meet him in his office? I ask Link as we walk in.

Office. He said his assistant coach would be meeting us at the entrance. Link finally gives me a full answer.

Link isn’t so bad; we both got tossed together when we were younger and basically forgotten about. Well, maybe not Link, since his dad actually cared about what he was up to or how he was doing. I, on the other hand, was just left alone and pushed to the side. My mom was not the caring, loving mother she seems to be toward our younger brother. Then again, he actually tries to please our parents, but I don’t. Also. . . I think my mom is still mad I inherited everything, and she didn’t. She hasn’t come right out and said it, but once I learned of my inheritance—which I didn’t even know about until a month before my eighteenth birthday—that’s when it all started to make sense.

As I pull the door open and step inside, an older guy, probably in his mid-forties, is leaning against the counter.

Hello. You must be Lincoln Cavanaugh? And you are? Sorry, I wasn’t given much information. He holds his hand out to Link, then to me.

Arianna Burr. I smile as I shake his hand, waiting to see if he will ask the question. They all make it sound like a joke, but they hope they are right. And there it is, the raise in the eyebrow.

That wouldn’t be any relation to Trent Burr, would it? He smiles.

The one and only. He was my father. I flash him my best million-dollar smile.

Great player. Man, he was fast on the ice.

I cut him off. With all due respect, sir, I believe we have a meeting to get to. Don’t want to make the coach wait.

No. Of course not. Come on, follow me. He turns and starts walking down the hall then stops suddenly.

I’m sorry, Miss Burr, but we will be going through the locker rooms. I don’t think anyone is in there, but you can never be too certain.

I roll my eyes. It’s fine; I’m sure it’s nothing I’ve never seen before. I laugh. It’s nice to have a warning, but let’s be honest, I’m not a prude. Far from it. Seeing a naked man isn’t anything new. Big muscular men changing or their you know what, wrapped in a small towel? And really, I may be a bit disappointed if the locker room is empty. . . which it is, to my slight dismay. If I have to come here to help out, I could have gotten a free show out of the deal. What’s not to like?

Chapter Two

True

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So, do you really want to play? I ask Link as we walk back to the car.

Yeah.

I roll my eyes.

Then you're going to have to work your ass off for the next few months. I’m not going to waste my time helping you, if you're not going to put in the work.

You think I can do it? He looks up from his phone.

I have no idea. Playing at this level is a whole different game. But if this is what you want, I’ll help where I can. But it’s all up to you. I can’t make you great. I can only light the fire under your ass to get you to do it. You're lucky I'm even helping you at all.

He is lucky that he’s my stepbrother, and one of the only reasons I didn’t go crazy while I live at home with our parents. I would probably do just about anything to help him. All he has to do is ask.

Shut up. You know you're only helping me because you don't have anything better to do. He smirks. But seriously, you think your gramps is going to help?

He’ll just see if he can get you to quit. He’ll work you harder than anyone ever has. You have the basics down. You know how to play. Now you just have to get faster. Stronger. Just don’t give up, Link. I smack him on his back as I round the car to the driver’s side.

I won’t. But why are you helping me? You hate anything to do with sports, and you really don’t like throwing your name around to get doors to open. So why did you do it?

Because, believe it or not, I know how hard our parents are pushing this for you, and if I can help take some of the pressure off, well, I’m going to do it. And because I can. . . and if I don’t try, it’s only going to get worse for Jackson.

"He’s going to be something someday. Even if it’s not basketball." Link smiles as we talk about our brother. The little shit is a natural ballplayer, but he would rather study than play ball. Wants to be a surgeon, and I really hope he reaches his dream.

What about you, True? What do you want to do? Link asks as we start the drive home.

I don’t know. I just take one day at a time. Life is too short to put all my eggs in one basket. But for the next three months, I’m spending it making your life miserable. I laugh. "Just wait, Link, you just thought I was a pain in the ass before. You haven't seen anything yet." I hate that question: What do I want to do with my life? I really have no idea, and why should I? I like where I am, for now.

Great. He puts his head back and sighs.

You signed up for it. It’s your own fault. Could have picked a different sport, dude, I cackle.

"Yeah, but this is one my dad didn’t know anything about. I wasn’t trying to compete with him. He couldn’t compare me to him."

I get that. And I do. He doesn’t want to be compared to his dad, and I can’t blame him. He needs to make his own name for himself, and even if he makes the team, there are no guarantees he will go pro.

Link puts his earbuds in, and I take that as my cue the conversation is over. I give my gramps a call and ask if he can help. We have a few months before tryouts. Of course, my gramps agrees to help, but he laughs because we both know that Link has no idea what he signed up for. Me, on the other hand? I know exactly what is in store for him. I know my gramps is going to push for me to do more than I am. He has wanted me to play hockey since I was little, and I may be good, but it was never my dream to play; it just made me feel a little less alone.

I haven’t laced up a pair of skates in a while and I am itching to spend some time with Gramps, even if he is going to torture me just as much as he will Link.

The thing about Gramps is that he owns an NHL team, The Ravens. He retired from coaching after my dad died and took over as CEO from his own father, then inherited the team after great-grandpa passed. Hanging out with him now that I’m older has me running into a lot of hockey players. . . single hot hockey players. I know most young single females, and even some men, would be hanging out all the time, but not me. I don’t spend as much time with my grandfather as I used to. He’s still a coach at heart, though, and thinks it’s funny how many times he can get me to run drills. He tried talking me into actually playing on a team, but I just couldn’t do it. These days, I can rarely get myself to go to a game. I can count on one hand the number of Link’s games I have been to, and that’s only because my mom dragged me along.

Moral support.

More like she wanted it to look like we were one big happy family, even though she’s more invested in our younger brother than anything right now. I can’t tell you how happy I am that they didn’t have any more after him. She’s not happy I choose to live my life differently than she thinks I should. I moved out as soon as I graduated high school, and I never looked back, only coming around to play her perfect daughter, then going back to my life.

Like today.

I put my big sister pants on and tossed around my last name like the socialite she thinks I should be. But that’s just not who I am or who I want to be. I don’t want a spotlight on me. I don't like going to fancy dinners or parties where everyone throws around names to one-up the next. I’m happy just being me.

Not that I’m doing much these days. I took a few classes online, but it just didn’t bring me the joy I was looking for. If I am being honest, I am still chasing after the thing that sparks something in me. Maybe I need to talk to Gramps about it, since talking to my mom is not going to happen. She wants to set me up with guys who I have no interest in dating. I tried it a few times, actually, but when you grow up around so many pro athletes, you're expected to be just as talented. Everyone I dated put the game first. I don’t know how many times I’ve told my mother that I am not dating Jason's friends’ sons, and I don’t care that they are playing college ball or going into sports medicine. I want someone to be my equal, not someone’s second thought. I don’t need them to support me financially. I have enough money, and I'm just fine living off the interest of what my dad left me.

The more I think about it, I don't even know where my life started taking the turn it did. Gramps and Mom never really got along. She would drop me off and leave for weeks at a time, but when she came back to get me, she wouldn't even come inside. She would just wait in her car.

And the pictures... I can hardly remember, but photos of my parents together are nowhere to be found, and let’s face it, he didn’t leave her enough money to satisfy her. She never mentions my dad unless it’s in front of someone.

Maybe my mom was just a puck bunny who got the guy after she got knocked up. I’d have to remember to ask Gramps about it. There are so many things, looking back, that just didn’t make a lot of sense. I was just never really worried or thought about it.

Nolan

You would think after fifteen years of early practice, I would be used to it. I can't even remember the last time I slept past eight in the morning, and if I do wake up close to eight, I feel as though I slept in too long. The past year, training with a new team, has been more intense than college or any of