Friendzone Hockey (Heartbreak Hockey #4)
Chapter 16
53%
Chapter
Sixteen
NOW
Dash
I manage a shower and a hangover-cure breakfast of grease and coffee to breathe life into me. I also take the Advil Stacey left on my bedside table. I’m proud that I can keep it all down. I expect to see Stacey and the twins at the door, but it’s just Stacey.
I raise a brow and because he knows me so well, it asks all my questions for me. Where are they? Why is it just you?
“I’m your best man, not them. Heck, I suspect you don’t like them so much, so I took them over to Meyer Central. They were excited to help look after the kids. It’s a full house over there today.”
Try as I might, I can’t stop the smile that spreads onto my lips. Sun bursts through the rainy-day cloud that’s been stewing within me since they arrived.
“Nah. They’re so nice. Why would you think I don’t like them?”
His lips twist into a sly smirk. “You don’t remember why I tossed you over my shoulder last night, do you?”
Oh fuck. No. I don’t. The memory is buried somewhere within me, underwater, trying to rise to the surface. But my body somehow knows it’s gonna be embarrassing as fuck, breaking out with heat and regretful tingles. “Uh … do I wanna know?”
“Probably not.”
I rub my hand over my face. “I should probably know. Hit me with it.”
“You forechecked Trent with an invisible hockey stick, and you told Alex he was a Stacey-stealing hussy.”
I wince. Not the worst thing I’ve thought and wanted to do, but not great. “Hopefully that’s all?”
“You tore Alex away from me on the dancefloor and slammed him into a wall, telling him to keep his filthy-whore hands off me.”
Oh god. Oh fuck. I can never show myself at The Wicklow ever again. I can never show my face in public ever again. I cover my face with my hands. Warm palms circle my wrists, prying them away, forcing me to look into his brown eyes.
“Fuck, I’m so sorry, Stace. I’ll apologize.” It’s the last thing I wanna do, but I was out of line.
Stacey shrugs. “Meh. I kinda enjoyed seein’ you get all jealous. You’re kind of adorable when you’re angry.”
I take a step toward him. He’s still holding my wrists. “Then why did you stop me?”
“Because I know you. You think you feel bad now? You would have felt worse if you’d hit them. They’re not hockey players, Dash. Far from it. They want to be co-fashion designers.”
I purse my lips. “Admirable.”
He presses my nose. “Knew you hated them.”
“I said something nice!”
“With a sour look on your face. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were still jealous, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart. That word again. And as before, I’m conflicted. Do I tell him to stop calling me that? Or simply call him out for giving my name away? I settle on a glare.
“I’m not jealous. I just don’t think they’re good enough for you.”
Stacey’s hands find their way to mine. He threads our fingers together. “Tell me how much you’re in love with Syd.” His voice is low, laced with the gruffness of arousal.
I swallow the heat trying to rise.
“I’m the most in love with Syd,” I say. “I’ve never met anyone like him, Stace. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a man.”
Other than the fact that he’s not you.
Stacey nods. “Right. Good, that’s good. That’s what I want for you, Dashie. I want you to be with the man of your dreams.”
He kisses the top of my head and pulls away, leaving an empty chill in his wake. I’ve never felt so far away from him. Something’s off about him, too. I sit up, watching him rub the sleep from his eyes.
“Why are you acting so nervous?”
Stacey’s chest rises, and he exhales a slow breath. “Your dad wants to see us later—both of us.”
“That’s not foreboding or anything.”
He chuckles. “I know right? Like we’re being called to the principal’s office.”
“Is it about last night? Am I really getting a lecture? Why does he need you there to ream me out? Wait, why didn’t he text me about it?”
I fire off the rapid questions, chest tightening. Yeah, something’s definitely up.
“If you know and you don’t tell me, Stace…” I warn.
He holds his hands up. “I swear I don’t know.”
“Dad knows better than to do this shit. Ugh. ” My head falls back against the headboard. I wish this mattress would swallow me whole.
“Then it must be really important, and it must be something he’s already taking care of.”
I hug my knees to my chest. The room’s spinning a bit—fuck, I’m never drinking again. “I’m sure you’re right.”
“Besides, I’m gonna be right there.”
Yeah, Dad knew to make sure my emotional support human was with me, and he knew it wasn’t Syd. I’m not saying any of that out loud, though. Stacey’s gonna assume I can’t handle whatever Dad’s gonna say on my own. He’d be right, but it’s better he doesn’t know that.
“You don’t have to come, you can drop me off. I’m sure you have better things to do with your day. You’re already giving me most of it by coming to this wedding appointment with me.”
He laughs, slapping his knee. “That’s funny, Dashie.”
I scowl. “What’s so funny about that?”
“That you think going alone to meet with your dad is an option. Get your ass outta bed or we’re gonna be late.”
He and his perfectly round ass disappear down the hallway, but I’m left with the best feeling. One that I don’t know I can explain other than to label it “The feeling Stacey Alderchuck gives me”, and I’m gonna ride it all the way till the end of this day.
“ S o, you gonna tell me about your pre-mid-life crisis?” I ask. His new and obnoxious Hummer sounds like an earthquake as we rumble down the highway toward Newlands Golf Course in Langley where I have an appointment to check out their venue. They do a whole “one-stop-shop” wedding thing where they bring all the vendors to you. You can have your venue, photographer, caterers, cake bakery, and florist chosen in one session. It’s called Club Wed. Kinda cheesy, but I liked the idea of one and done. I want a fabulous wedding, but I also don’t want to spend forever planning it.
He doesn’t answer. In fact, he pretends he didn’t hear me.
“Stace?”
“Um, yeah. Just paying attention to the road here.”
“Bullshit. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
His body language shifts to something heavy. The cracks in his veneer I was seeing whenever I’d video call him last season, almost making me wish the sunshine twins were here. Almost. Let’s not get too crazy.
“I was thinking about how beautiful you are. You’re so beautiful, it’s distracting.”
I don’t know what I was expecting, but not that. “You said earlier?—”
“I know what I said, and I’m a fucking hypocrite again. Sue me. I can’t stop thinking about kissing you.”
I’m hot all over. My cock likes the direction he’s taking this conversation. A lot. And I shouldn’t, I really shouldn’t.
But fuck it.
“What about the other stuff you said?”
“The part where I told you I think about fucking you every day of my life? Or when I promised you you’d come with my name on your lips?”
My hand finds its way to my cock. Ugh. Why’s there all this material in the way?
“No,” he says in a bossy voice that stops me in my tracks.
“Why? Clearly, you want to—want me.”
He takes my hand, showing me the ring on my finger, reminding me I have it. “You ready to take this off yet?”
“I …” It takes me a second to catch my breath.
“That’s a no. We’re not doing anything more while you belong to someone else.”
“You’re not acting like I belong to someone else.” He’s still got my hand. He’s threaded his fingers through mine. “Wanna know what I used to think about?”
The giant beast of a truck lurches toward the shoulder, then quickly snaps back into the lane.
“Dash,” he warns.
“I want to know what it’s like to sit on your cock.”
He licks his lips but doesn’t say anything. I take his silence as permission. “I’d just sit on it as if I’m the place it goes home to. Because I would be its home. It doesn’t belong anywhere else.”
Am I as good at the dirty talk as he is? No. But I’m saying facts—important facts.
He likes what I’ve said. I can tell. He’s breathing carefully, crushing my hand.
Stacey’s right, though. I can’t do this while I’m engaged to Syd. Maybe I shouldn’t be engaged to Syd.
“I think we should turn around,” I tell him. He’ll know what that implies.
He shakes his head. “Nope.”
“Stacey!”
My phone goes off, thankfully interrupting that argument. It’s the group chat. We’ve added a few people—Rhett, Logan, Mercy, and Sutter—as time’s gone on and we’ve collected partners. Huh, I can’t see myself adding Syd. He’s even older than Mercy, does he even want to be in a group chat with mostly twenty-something-year-olds?
Syd doesn’t know my friends that well. We were only getting to a hot and heavy place last off-season, so we went on a lot of dates. I spent all of Syd’s spare time with him—he was working a lot then. We all left for hockey in September, and when I saw Syd, it was usually in Kelowna where most of my friends weren’t.
My eyes flick to Stacey, whose eyes are on the road, but at least he doesn’t appear as torn up as he was when we first entered the vehicle. Actually, there’s a twinkle in his eyes. What is he up to?
If he’s not going to tell me, I can be up to something, too.
Since we’ve collected an abundance of alpha Toppy types, I’ve toyed with the idea of starting a brat chat. I thought Casey would have by now, but he’s been too busy getting laid to do much else.
Guess it’s up to me.
It’s hard not to laugh with delight, feeling like I’m doing something “naughty” while I add Casey, Logan, Dirk, and Jack to the new group.
“What are you up to over there, brat?” Stacey says.
“Me? Nothing at all.”
He holds out his hand. “Gimme the phone.”
I smirk. “Not a fucking chance.”
“I will pull this car over.”
“Don’t you mean house? Seriously, Stace, this is a fucking house on wheels. Unless this is like Sutter’s apocalypse vehicle, it either says ‘I’m a huge dick’, or ‘I’m compensating’.”
“You know it’s neither for me,” he says with all the fucking smugness.
Great. Now I’m thinking about his dick. I’ve seen it many times. Many, many, many—you get the picture— many times. It’s thick, long, large … I almost rode it that one time.
That shower.
The shower that lives rent-free in my head. But it’s also locked away in an apartment in my head that I never open the door to.
Yeah, okay. No more thinking about Stacey’s dick. Thankfully, I have the new chat to take my mind off things.
Me
Hey fuckers.
Casey
Brat chat! All right.
Jack
Finally. I was hoping someone was gonna do this, but no way was I starting it.
Dirk
I’m not sure I identify as brat, but I guess someone has to keep the four of you from dying.
Logan
Is this okay? I think I’d better ask Rhett if this is okay.
Me
No!
Casey
Fuck no!
Jack
Are you crazy?
Dirk
Logan
Gotcha! I don’t think I fully identify as brat either, but I’m not that stupid.
Casey
That was a pretty brat thing to do. Just sayin’.
Me
Stace and I are on the way to Newlands. He’s suspicious of my phone activities.
“You know we’re going to stop eventually,” Stacey says, reminding me of his presence. “I’m bigger than you.”
I know he means his body, but that has me thinking of his cock again.
“My phone’s password locked.”
“I know your phone password, genius—I know all your passwords.”
Dammit. That’s inconvenient.
Casey
Question. Why’s Stacey going with you? Shouldn’t it be your fiancé?
Me
Best man duties.
My heart races. Technically, all of them should probably be going with us if that’s the case. They’re all my best men.
Stacey’s just … Stacey. No one questioned when I chose him as “official” best man. Not even Dirk, who’s a bestie of another breed.
I wait with a jack rabbit thumping against my ribcage while I see the little dots appear to tell me Casey’s typing. But so what if he asks questions? I have nothing to worry about and even less to hide.
Casey
So glad Sutter and I are eloping in Vegas. I’m not doing all that crap. But you fuckers had better be there.
Jack
Merc and I already have sitters. Just tell us the dates and we’ll be there.
The Hummer slows. Shit. We’re pulling into the Newlands Golf Course parking lot.
Me
Shit. GTG. TTYL.
But they continue talking, judging by the constant buzzing in my pocket.
“Hand it over,” Stacey says, killing the engine.
“Nah. You’ll have to pry it from my cold dead hands.”
“Okay, you asked for it.”
Two hundred pounds of hockey player launches across the console. I’m hit with Stacey’s musky scent and his face stops inches from mine. He’s tackled me countless times, so much that I’m used to this position, but for the first time, ever, it feels wrong. Forbidden.
My breath hitches and there’s a tingling buzz hovering over my skin.
“Who’ve you been talking to? I know it wasn’t Syd. Dash?—”
Wait, does he think I’ve got a secret boyfriend? It would be fun to say Hunter just to see him go feral again.
“I started a chat with Jack, Dirk, Casey, and Logan.” I’m not breathing right, but I don’t care. I love his weight on top of me, lips close enough to?—
“Aha!” He gets my phone. “A brat chat, huh? I don’t remember authorizing this.”
“I don’t remember asking.”
“Maybe I’ll ask the other guys, see what they think. It’s about time Rhett, Mercy, Mitch and I had our own chat.”
“You’re outnumbered.”
“One of me was all it took to take down one of you. I’m sure we’ll be fine.”
Yeah. Unfortunately.
“S-So, is the chat over before it started?” Fuck, am I stuttering? But he’s just so big, and good-smelling, and on top of me. Is he gonna kiss me again? I’m staring at his lips.
He shakes his head. He’s staring, looking into my soul, reading my mind. The rhythm of Stacey’s diaphragm has changed. It’s slow and unsteady like mine.
There’s a knock on the window. I jump. “Fuck. Please tell me the windows are tinted.”
“The back ones are,” he says pulling away quickly. “The front side isn’t supposed to be tinted—illegal—but the last owner didn’t care. We’re good.”
I’ve never been so grateful for something criminal. But only because no one could see. Apparently, that’s what Stacey and I have become. Criminal. Illegal. Every touch is something secret.
“But we’re fine. We weren’t doing anything.”
No.
No.
Fucking Christ, no.
It didn’t feel like nothing, unless that was just me. Was it just me? Fuck, am I hallucinating now? Or worse, did I say something to make him back off again? It’s happened before. I know it has. A few times over the years we’d gotten close enough that I thought something was going to happen, but then I’d say something, and he’d retreat like I had the fucking plague.
In the other instances, it was usually something hinting to my past—that’s a sure-fire way to get Stacey to metaphorically set me down like I’m a dangerous python he had the misfortune of picking up. But that didn’t happen just now. It didn’t. I matched his energy this time. I unfortunately—in this case—know the man too well to deny it. He’s afraid of his reactions to me, and I’ve got zero defense against that.
Stacey told me a long time ago that he’s his own man. He lives and dies by his own set of values. No one can change them, not even me. If he’s faltering—a-fucking-gain—I’ve learned the hard way that there’s nothing I can do about it.
I can’t believe it. I can’t believe I let myself fall for it again. The wintry frost of panic brushes over my skin like a warning. I almost dived into the same painful abyss I did that one awful summer when I told him I loved him and he told me he loved me, but that it was never going to happen.
So what is this, then? What the fuck’s he doing? Living out a ‘what if’ fantasy? Maybe that’s why he wouldn’t turn the car around. It would have made it too real. It’s too late, though. Hope had already sprouted its first seeds.
It feels like losing him all over again. I’m gonna puke.
Worst hangover of my life.
Stacey starts the vehicle to roll down the window, talking to the man outside while I have an internal conniption. I know better. I know so much better. Stacey does too. He’d never do this to be cruel intentionally. At the very least, he must be experiencing the same fears I am—that we’ll lose the “us” we are, that we’ll have to make a new “us”.
Neither of us knows how to do that, but it doesn’t mean him marrying me instead is the solution.
“Parking lot security,” he says, rolling the window up. “They don’t see too many vehicles like this. I explained about the appointment. C’mon.”
I’ve never hopped out of a vehicle so fast. I don’t want him to see my face until I’ve had the chance to distract myself long enough to plaster on a smile.
I flex and extend my hand. Functional. No scars on the outside. Haunted hallways within. That’s me.
“Wait.”
Dammit. I spin around, smiling, hoping it’s enough.
He yanks me toward him and because I’m a fucking fool for him, I can’t help myself. I let my arms wrap around his thick torso, let my body mold against his. I close my eyes, inhaling his scent as if I need it to survive. All the ghosts inside me are scared away. They won’t dare come out when he’s around. That’s what it means to have your very own mercenary angel—full protection from evil, ultimate safety, the best arms in the world.
My heart beats a calm and steady rhythm, and the word fear ceases to exist, obliterated from my lexicon.
I can live.
“Just had a feeling you might need that. Ready to look at wedding shit?”
Unbelievably, I’m laughing. “What’s wrong with wedding shit?”
He holds my hand but makes sure he’s the one opening the door for me. “Nothing, I guess.”
And I swear I hear him mutter, “But it’s for the wrong groom,” under his breath.
“ I ’m Judy. You two must be the future Nolan-Smiths. What a handsome couple you are.”
Okay, wow. Awkward. But only for a heartbeat. Stacey chose violence today.
“Oh, no. I’m the best man. If I were marrying him, we wouldn’t be the Nolan-Smiths, that’s for fucking sure,” he says.
I remember what he said to Sutter and Casey about making his man an Alderchuck. My heart picks up again. I take a breath and exhale his name.
“ Stace. ” I whack his chest. “Sorry about him. He’s a hockey player—they don’t know how to act in public.”
And, yes, I’m a hockey player too, but she doesn’t know that, nor does she need to. I’m usually worse, but guess I’m the responsible one today—even Nostradamus couldn’t have predicted that one.
Judy looks between us. I think she thinks we’re fucking with her because, okay fine, yeah, there’s a lot of energy between us. We pass as a couple and truth be told, it’s not the first time we’ve been mistaken as one. If only she knew that I told him how badly I want to sit on his cock only minutes ago.
Her eyes brighten when she thinks we’ve figured it out. “I see what’s going on. My partner and I fought over the last name thing too. Eventually, we went with hers and I’m glad we did.”
“You got us,” Stacey says in the smooth voice everyone falls in love with. “It’s been a bit of a tiff between us, but we actually sorted it out on the way over here.” He extends his hand. “We’ll be the Alderchucks. Nice to meet you.”
I am actually going to kill him.
“Oh, I don’t see Alderchuck anywhere here,” she says.
“That’s because it was my mother’s last name. I wanted to go with it for sentimental reasons,” he lies, smoothly.
“Wait, Alderchuck. Are you one of the Alderchucks that plays for Vancouver?”
Fucking Christ. A hockey fan. Thank god I’m not as recognizable. Stacey is, but usually only by his unusual last name. It’s harder to recognize a hockey player out of gear than you’d think. It depends on the die-hardness of the fan as to whether they can. She’s mid, but she knows an NHL player’s wedding means a hefty paycheck for her.
But fucking Stacey. What the hell is wrong with him? There’s no way I can choose this place now. What will they say when I turn up with a different groom?
Two can play, though, and I’m not letting him off easy. He wants to be my fiancé for a day? Fine. Let’s fucking go. We’ll see who folds first. I take his hand.
“Hope you remembered to bring your wallet, baby. I want to leave the deposit with Judy today.”
Stacey pulls a sharp breath— because I called him baby —but takes his wallet out and flashes a gold card, calling my bluff. Dammit. NHL money. This is a flash in the pan for him. Still not used to that. “Judy, dear, I’m fucking loaded. Lead the way.”
It’s unlike Stacey to say something like that. It’s also unlike me to find it hot as fuck. And yet, those two things have just happened. But I know why. It’s the intent behind it. It’s almost like he’s competing with an invisible Syd. Firing up Stacey’s possessive instincts is wrong, wrong, wrong. But I don’t give a fuck. I love it. I want it. How can I get more?
“This way, gentlemen,” she says, dollar signs in her eyes.
“You heard the woman, sweetheart.” Stacey smacks my ass. “Get moving.”
I turn just so I can hit him with a glare that says, since when do friends smack each other’s asses like that? I mean, I guess we’ve all done that kind of thing in the locker room at one time or another, and that extends outside our group.
But we’re not in a fucking locker room. We’re not like Dirk and me. We’re sure as fuck not like the rest of the guys and me either.
“For the next two hours, you’re mine, Mr. Alderchuck,” he murmurs for my ears only.
Hotness. So much hotness breathing down my neck.
I should tell him to go fuck himself, but I plain don’t want to. Instead, I relish in the handprint-shaped sting radiating across my ass and let him drag me where Judy leads us.
I have a problem. This place is perfect. Everything I’d want in a wedding venue, but I can’t let on since I’ll have to turn it down. She’s shown us six different ballrooms, but it’s The Conservatory I’ve fallen in love with—the most expensive one.
Judy shows us where the head table would go, just in front of the large casement windows. The ballroom is encased in glass, it opens to a backdrop of green and tall trees.
“Do you know what kind of flowers you want?”
“Everything white and pink,” Stacey says, taking the words out of my mouth.
“Yeah,” I agree. “Surprise me. Just make it?—”
“Huge,” Stacey adds. “No expense spared. I’m not just any hockey player, but a famous one with a massive bank account.”
Now he’s just tryna get laughs from me and it works. I get to whack him again, though.
“Baby, leave something for the kids to inherit,” I tease.
Stacey pulls me backward until I’m flush with his larger body. “You want kids, sweetheart?”
“Yeah. Someday.” Definitely not immediately like Jack and Merc.
Judy smiles wide. “You two are so in love. It’s like watching magic. How did you meet?”
I flush head to toe. I try to bury myself in Stacey to hide from Judy’s star-struck eyes. We don’t have a meet cute.
“Actually, we were friends for a long time first,” Stacey says—it’s not a lie. “And then I realized if I didn’t act fast, I’d lose the person that means everything to me. My heart never would have beat right ever again. It would have been h-hell on earth.” His voice breaks a little.
W-What…?
No. He doesn’t mean any of that. He’s fucking with me, winning whatever the fuck game of chicken we’ve roped ourselves into. It’s never gonna happen. The worst part? It’s not even because he doesn’t love me. He loves me more than life itself. No one loves me like Stacey loves me. We’re fucking gravity.
It’s just my luck Stacey would be the first man to succeed in fighting gravity.
Judy buys the whole thing. She’s tearing up as she gives us a round of applause. “Oh! This is going to be the most beautiful wedding. C’mon. Let’s try some cake.”
I t doesn’t take long to pick out the cake … although it ends up being cakes, plural. Stacey insisted on what he knew would be my favorite—Vanilla custard with pink strawberry icing—and I refused unless we also got him something tall, chocolate, and caramel. Stace isn’t a sweets guy, but the exception is anything chocolate and caramel.
“You said whatever I wanted,” I reminded him when he tried to talk me out of two, worried it would get wasted. “Besides, cake won’t get wasted with your brother around.”
In two hours, “The Alderchucks” put together a spectacular fantasy wedding, a spell only broken by the price of the deposit.
“We’ll need thirty thousand to hold the date.”
Fuck. I didn’t prepare for that. I don’t have thirty thousand lying around. Dad wanted to foot at least half the bill, and Syd was going to take care of the rest. And, yeah, he can afford to do a “whatever-I-want” wedding, too, but spending thirty thousand non-refundable dollars without asking my fiancé—my real fiancé—doesn’t seem like the move.
“We’ll talk about it and get back to you, Judy,” I say.
“Of course, Future Mr. Alderchuck, but keep in mind that without the deposit, I can’t hold the date. I see you’ve requested some of our most sought-after dates.”
“Yeah, I?—”
“We don’t need to talk about it, sweetheart,” Stacey says. “Everything’s perfect. Here.” He pulls out his damn gold card again and Judy’s off with it before I can protest. That woman’s done this before.
“Stacey! You can’t pay for this, and you know why.”
“I’m not. It’s a loan. Your dad can pay me back. I’m just helping you hold the date—it’s the least I can do for being a dick today.”
“Didn’t really notice, but if that’s the way you feel, say sorry. Don’t toss thirty grand at me, dude.”
His phone rings. “It’s the bank calling to make sure I’m authorizing such a large sum.”
“Tell them?—”
“Yep. It’s me. I’m at Newlands. You need a picture ID or something?” Guess they don’t. He’s off the phone and it’s a done deal.
“Stace, what did you do?”