Pulling the Goalie

Pulling the Goalie CEDAR RAPIDS RACOONS LASAIRIONA MCMASTER Copyright © 2023 by Lasairiona McMaster The moral right of Lasairiona McMaster to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the copyright, designs, and patents act of 1988. 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. Your support for the Author’s rights is appreciated. All the characters in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, are purely coincidental. Contents Dedication Content Warning Pulling the Goalie 1. Eloise 2. Ares 3. Eloise 4. Ares 5. Eloise 6. Eloise 7. Ares 8. Eloise 9. Ares 10. Eloise 11. Ares 12. Eloise 13. Eloise 14. Ares 15. Eloise 16. Eloise 17. Ares 18. Eloise 19. Ares 20. Eloise 21. Ares 22. Eloise 23. Ares 24. Ares Trashcan Tattle with Tabitha 25. Eloise 26. Ares 27. Eloise 28. Eloise 29. Ares 30. Ares 31. Eloise 32. Ares 33. Eloise 34. Eloise 35. Eloise Epilogue Ares Also by Lasairiona McMaster Author Note Acknowledgments About the Author Dedication For Tracie, I never knew I needed a big sister until I met you. This book was a royal pain in my ass, just like you every morning at 6am, rain, wind, or shine. Thanks for believing in me so much I had no choice but to believe in myself. Content Warning This book contains certain subjects that some readers may be sensitive to, including but not limited to: substance abuse (alcohol and drugs) and PTSD. There are also MF/male-female, MM/male-male, and MMF/male-male-female sexual relation scenes throughout this book. As with any book that contains content warnings, please be cautious when undertaking this story and take care of your mental health. Pulling the Goalie ARES (Prologue) “Gooood morning, Cedar Rapids! This is Marshall Bryant, and you’re listening to Rock 108. Summer’s almost over, which means we’re on the slippery slope into the new college hockey season, and Coach Bales is putting together an interesting roster of Raccoons over at the University of Cedar Rapids. Speaking of the Trash Pandas, I lured one of them onto the show. You know I like to have interesting guests on the show from time to time, so joining us this morning for a quick Q&A is rookie UCR goaltender, Ares de la Peña. No stranger to the limelight, the youngest of four siblings, Ares already has twin older brothers on the team and is suiting up to play between the pipes in the fall. Thanks for joining us today, Ares.” I shift in my seat. No one can see me since I’m in my apartment, on an online call with Marshall, but nervous energy still courses through me. “Thanks for having me, Marshall.” I hate interviews. Interviewers always go for the jugular, and I always know exactly what they’re going to ask. They know I’m a recovering addict, a stripper, and they want aaaaall the juicy gossip. When did you first realize you were an addict? How did you get into drugs and alcohol so young? Are you cured? What were your drugs of choice? Did you really break that guy’s orbital socket with your foot? What does your family think of the fact you’re a stripper? What made you give up drugs and go clean? How often do you dance at the strip club? What was rehab like? Why are you so blasé about the fact you’re an addict? It got to the point where I made a list of answers ahead of time, and I just read them off like a damn robot. If Oprah were to call me up right now, I’d have a first-class performance ready to go. Lots of people don’t believe I’m a recovering addict because, at only eighteen years old, I’m pretty young. But I’ve been an addict since I was fourteen years old. It began with alcohol and weed, then escalated to Percocet, Vicodin, and eventually cocaine, perico. I might have been young when I first used, but I was also rich, and learned quickly that money really can buy just about anything. Including silence. I always thought the only one being harmed by my addiction was me, but I hurt other people, too. Even I got tired of hearing people make excuses for me. Even so, it wasn’t a fear of ending up in jail or the morgue that stopped me, but a fear of not playing the game. It takes an average of seventeen attempts for someone to find sobriety, and someone dies from an opioid overdose every twenty minutes in the United States. So, I was never optimistic that rehab would save me, or even help me. As far as I was concerned, I was beyond help, but, at the behest of Mamá, Papá’s money bought me access to the best treatment programs available. And when I got out, Alcoholics Anonymous, Narcotics Anonymous and Reddit’s Redditors in Recovery forum got me through. AlAnon—a support group for the families and friends of alcoholics, especially those of members of Alcoholics Anonymous showed me the impact my actions had on those around me. Ultimately, though, it was hockey that saved me. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do since I was old enough to walk and the thought I might never be able to play again by my own doing? It was too much. Did I play while high? Sure, I did. And for a while I was even convinced I could do it forever. Full of false confidence, I thought I was the best hockey player to ever skate on ice. But the more I moved away from prescription meds to coke, the more things unraveled. My heart rate spiked and stayed there any time I was on the ice. I was out of breath all