Off-Ice Collision

OFF-ICE COLLISION WYNCOTE WOLVES BOOK EIGHT CALI MELLE Copyright © 2023 by Cali Melle All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, or any events or occurrences is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created purely by the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Cover Designer: Cat Imb, TRC Designs Editor: Rumi Khan CONTENTS Prologue 1. Vaughn 2. London 3. Vaughn 4. London 5. Vaughn 6. London 7. Vaughn 8. London 9. Vaughn 10. London 11. Vaughn 12. London 13. Vaughn 14. London 15. Vaughn 16. London 17. Vaughn 18. London 19. Vaughn 20. London 21. Vaughn 22. London 23. Vaughn 24. London 25. Vaughn 26. London 27. Vaughn 28. London 29. Vaughn 30. London 31. London 32. Vaughn 33. London Epilogue The Ending of the Wyncote Wolves Acknowledgments Also by Cali Melle About the Author To all the broken souls… I see you. You’re not alone. PROLOGUE VAUGHN The coldness radiates off the ice and it seeps through my socks as my skates effortlessly glide across the smooth surface. It’s the first period and we’re out on fresh ice with the start of the game. Usually August Whitley would be the starting center, but our coach has started alternating between the two of us. Since I’m a freshman at Wyncote University, I don’t get as much ice time as the seniors on our team do, but our coach knows that I need to be out there too. I’ve been looked at by scouts since I was in high school and if everything goes accordingly, I’ll be playing on a professional level next season. College won’t even matter then, not that it did from the start. I only came here for the hockey program Wyncote has and the fact that it’s one of the biggest hockey colleges. I declared my major as some bullshit business degree because in the end, it didn’t really matter. I was going to be playing professional hockey, so my college degree meant nothing. It’s time for the puck drop and I slide across the ice, stopping as I reach the center ring. The opposing center player is already crouched down and in the correct stance for the face-off. The rest of their team are already in their zones. I glance around, noting Sterling Barrett and Hayden King as they fall into place. My eyes meet the other center’s, Number 18, as I crouch down in front of him. Both of our sticks are in our hands and anticipation builds in the air as we wait for the ref to drop the puck. Time is suspended momentarily before I watch the black frozen piece of rubber begin to fall down between the two of us. We battle over the puck, both of our sticks slapping at one another’s as we’re lost in a power struggle. One of us is going to win the face-off and I’m not going to be the one who skates away without one of my teammates having the puck. Using the toe of my skate, I lift up his stick, just quick enough for me to get the puck away from him before passing it back to Hayden. I move out of the way, watching as Hayden takes the puck and begins to circle around. He starts to move in the direction of the opposing team's net. Sterling and I both begin to skate ahead of him, each of us taking opposite sides of the rink. Hayden passes the puck to Sterling and he doesn’t miss a beat as he begins to stickhandle it, skating across the slick surface. Hayden falls back, hanging back in the defensive zone as Sterling and I both continue to skate closer to the net. Sterling and I make eye contact and he sends the puck to me as another player approaches him. I’m already ahead of him and closer to the net. The muscles in my legs work harder as I skate faster, picking up speed with every stride I take. The net is practically wide open with just the goaltender occupying the space in front of it. He’s already dropped into a stance as he sees me charging at him. He’s anticipating my next move and I know I need to fake him out. Suddenly, one of the defensive players on their team enters my field of vision. I thought he was already preoccupied by someone else, but now he’s directly in my way. Stickhandling the puck, I move it around as I attempt to confuse him on which way I’m going to skate around him. His bright yellow jersey sticks out and the number 8 is on the front. I make a move like I’m going to the right and I watch as he begins to shift his weight before I switch to the left. Number 8 matches my movements and he’s quicker than I expected. Instead of attempting to take the puck from me, he slides his skate out to try and trip me. As he makes the move, he braces himself, and I don’t even see it coming as my knee collides directly into his. It’s almost as if the entire thing happens in slow motion but I had no time to anticipate any of it. A searing pain erupts in my knee, tearing through my leg like wildfire. All movement ceases with that leg and it’s essentially useless. I can’t hold myself up and I crumble onto the ice, unable to bear any weight on my leg. I fall onto my side with my injured left leg propped on top of my right leg. The bottom half of my leg feels like it is completely detached from