BLAZE: Enemies to Lovers College Hockey Romance Eddie Cleveland (best mobile ebook reader .TXT) 📖

“Aww, crap!” My mother’s voice drifts out, crystalizing why my bedroom is currently off limits.

I lead Blaze to the kitchen to see what’s going on. Mom is hunched over, fumbling through the drawer of randomness, the one where cooking utensils go to die. Things like the garlic press, cookie cutters and slotted spoons get tossed in and forgotten forever.

“What’s wrong?”

She pops up like I snuck up on her. “Well, I picked up some beer to go with the pizza, but they don’t have the screw tops on them. Pricilla, do you know where there’s a bottle opener?

“Here, I got it.” Blaze pulls out a lighter. He tilts it under the cap and flips it off with a flick of his wrist.

“Impressive.” Mom takes the beer from him looking like he just made it appear from thin air.

“It’s a party trick.” Blaze shrugs. He quickly opens another couple.

Ding dong.

“Oh, that’s the pizza.” Mom perks up, brushing her hands through her hair.

It’s the same pizza guy who always delivers to our house. He’s a bit of a silver fox, really, not that I’m into older men. I think he’s into my mother though. He always makes a point of chatting with her about random things.

“So, of course I couldn’t leave her there,” he says. “I brought her back home with me and named her Nermal.” I overhear him at the door.

“Oh, like the cat from Garfield?” Mom asks.

“You know, you’re the first person who got that?”

Mom laughs, but it’s higher pitched. It sounds weird. “Well, that’s because I’m old. I remember reading Garfield in the funnies section of the newspaper.”

“I think you’re too pretty to be calling yourself old,” he answers. Sly dog.

Mom finally pays the guy and brings the pizza in the kitchen. She looks all rosy and cheerful. He might not realize how old she is because she looks about ten years younger when she talks to him.

“Pizza guy flirting with you again?” I raise an eyebrow.

“What? James? No, he’s just a nice guy. It’s too bad he’s widowed. He’ll make someone very happy.” She puts the box down on the counter.

“Someone like you?” I try to give her the nudge she needs.

“Oh, no. Not me.”

“You know, it wouldn’t kill you to go out on some dates, mom.”

“Oh, I don’t have time for that. Dates are a younger person’s game. Who has that kind of energy? Anyway, enough about that. Here, get some pizza. Grab a beer. I hope you don’t mind olives on pizza, Blaze. Priscilla and I like them, but, if you don’t, I won’t think you’re rude if you pick them off.”

“I would eat just about anything on a pizza crust.” Blaze laughs, piling his plate high with 4 pieces.

I lead him to the living room, and we all sit on the floor using the coffee table as our family dinner table. Mom digs into her first slice, and we all start eating. I don’t know how many slices of pizza she and I have eaten like this, but it’s probably in the thousands. Mom has done a good job raising me on her own. No mother-daughter relationship is perfect. We’ve had our moments like everyone else, but I love her dearly.

“So, Pricilla tells me you’re going to the frosty four?”

“Frozen Four.” I’m not sure why I remind her. I’ve told her the name a bunch of times, but Frosty has already been cemented in her mind.

“Yep, we’ve made the finals.” Blaze doesn’t care that Mom doesn’t remember the name. He looks happy that she’s making an effort.

“That’s gotta be a cool feeling.” Mom picks up her beer but lets the bottle hang from her fingertips as she closes her eyes.

“It’s probably the same as in your job, or any job. There are highs and lows.” He plays it down.

“I’m a dental hygienist. I’m battling plaque and gingivitis so it’s not exactly David and Goliath stuff.” Mom laughs. “Yours is like do or die. Hero or zero.”

“Mom!” I cut her off. I don’t want to get in his head two days before the big game.

“It’s a lot to carry in your head all at the same time. That’s why training isn’t just skates and weights. It’s also things like mindfulness and visualization.”

“Okay, I’ve heard of visualization. That’s like dream boards and whispering your secret desires to the universe and all that stuff, right? That sounds a bit Himalayan-salt-lamp healer-ish. I didn’t think you guys would be using that new age stuff.”

“No.” Blaze laughs, shaking his head. “I mean, maybe some guys are doing their visualizations with that lamp thingy and crystals, but that’s not part of it. It’s more like you imagining taking that winning shot. Really seeing all the details in your head. Bonus points if you think you can feel the cold from the rink,” he jokes.

“Ah, okay. And that helps you win games?”

“It helps with focus.” He nods and takes a big bite off his pizza slice.

“So, what’s mindfulness then?”

“That’s more thinking,” he answers around the bite. “Helps with stress.”

“I don’t think I’ve done mindfulness. Have you, hun?” Mom turns her attention to me.

“I don’t think so.” I shake my head.

I never think of Blaze as being stressed out. Causing stress? All day, every day. He’s just not the typical type of uptight I think of when I imagine someone under a lot of pressure. Pressure like playing college hockey. Stress like losing a brother. I can’t believe I never realized before just how hard it is to be Blaze. I guess that’s the thing with those big swinging-dick alpha types; they’re not big on sharing their feelings. Or even admitting they have them. It’s actually too bad. Maybe if Blaze was more open about his struggles, he wouldn’t spend his life in self-destruct mode.

Mom says, “Show me.” She crosses her legs and sits taller, closing her eyes. “What do I do?” She lifts her crinkled lid to peek at him.

“Sure. So you can do