Penalty to the Heart (Puckered Hearts #3)

Prologue

Caleb

I love my brother.

Love the fuck out of him.

But sometimes… I make it fucking hard for him to love me back.

Like right now, for instance.

By the stern look on his face, Jack sure fucking doesn’t like me, much less love my ass at this precise moment.

Shit.

He hasn’t even exited his SUV yet, but I can already sense the heavy weight of disapproval in his gaze, along with a long list of reasons why I’m always finding new ways of disappointing him.

My overprotective brother would love nothing more than to shake my shoulders and kick some sense into me right now. Unfortunately for him, my ass is currently firmly plopped on the cold concrete of the sidewalk, and no sense or reason can touch me from way down here.

Still, I can’t help feeling a tiny prickle of guilt watching him exit his car and witnessing how each step closer he gets to me seems to weigh him down and burden him further. And when Jack suddenly stops midway, preferring to lean against the passenger’s door, I don’t even question his need to keep his distance from me a bit longer.

I wish I could say that seeing the strained expression on Jack’s face was a one-off occurrence, but it’s not.

My fuck ups have always had this uncanny ability to wear on my big brother more than they ever have on me.

You see… Jack is a worrier.

It’s been like that since we were kids.

Ever since our pops died from a heart attack, way back when, Jack took it upon himself to be the so-called man of the house and vowed to always look out for our mom and me. The burden of that decision and responsibility prevented him from enjoying any carefree moments or making reckless decisions since he was fourteen years old.Hence why he worries about everything and goes to great lengths to make sure that none of his fears materialize—ever.

You ever hear about people having a plan B if shit hits the fan and goes sideways?

Well, Jack has a whole alphabet of plans right down to the letter Z, just in case something goes awry. Describing my brother as an obsessive control freak barely scratches the surface of his many quirks and attributes.

And yet, it’s worked for him.

It’s gotten him everything he’s ever wanted.

Go to college on a hockey scholarship?

Check.

Get signed to the Boston Guardians after graduating?

Check.

Marry his college sweetheart and have two-point-five kids?

Check. Check. Check.

Jack has always played life by the book, and it’s served him well.

Me, however… I poured gasoline and lit a match to that shit as soon as I could.

No way would I live my life with such confining rules and obligations.

So, for a man like Jack, who walks the straight and narrow, having me as a younger brother—someone who fucks shit up just for the hell of it—is a constant source of stress for him.

I’m a walking-talking nightmare.

No one is as high up on his list of concerns as I am.

And that’s saying something since there is a world of people who depend on him, twenty-four-seven.

“The fuck am I going to do with you?” he finally mumbles in greeting, arms crossed over his bulky frame.

“Well, for one, you could help me get up?” I smile broadly, raising my arms and inviting him to help me.

I’m not sure at what point in the night I fell on my ass in the middle of the street, but by the stale-smelling vomit beside me, it’s been a while.

“Nah. Down in the gutter looks like the perfect spot for you.”

“Ah, don’t be like that, Jack.” I pretend to pout, letting my heavy arms drop to my side. “I admit that I might have had a few too many tonight—”

“You think?” he interrupts with a deep-rooted scowl.

“But can you blame me?” I add, ignoring his snide commentary. “It was Nate’s wedding, Jack. Nate’s wedding! Our boy got the girl. Can you honestly blame me for celebrating after the shitty start of the season Nate’s had? After the hell he and his girl went through to get here? To get to their wedding day?” When I see my brother softening somewhat, I pile on a little more, hoping it will get me out of the doghouse. “So yes, I might have celebrated a little too hard tonight, but it was for a good cause. I did it for love.”

When he snorts in sarcasm, I know I went too far.

“Love? Since when have you ever cared about love?”

“Hey!” I point at him. “I love love! You know I’m a romantic at heart.”

“If screwing every woman that bats her eyelashes at you is what you call being romantic these days, then yeah, you’re a real fucking Prince Charming, alright,” he quips with an eye roll.

“I didn’t say that I wanted it for myself, but I do applaud those who found it. Hence the celebration,” I retort, not liking the look in his eyes—the one that says I’m full of shit.

I mean, he’s right.

I am full of shit.

Doesn’t make it sting any less that Jack thinks that of me, too.

“Geez, it’s not like I killed anyone,” I grumble under my breath.

“Tell that to your liver. I’m sure its days are good and accounted for.” He scoffs.

“Hey, my liver can take a beating. Why have good Irish genes if you can’t put them to good use?” I tease with a hiccup, bringing back the taste of vomit into my mouth.

Gross.

Maybe I did overdo it tonight.

Usually, after a party, I’d be balls-deep into some hottie, not stranded in the middle of the street with vomit as my only companion. Is it any wonder I’m flying solo tonight after having puked most of the contents in my stomach from partying too hard?

This shit is so not sexy.

It’s no wonder I had to call my brother to pick me up. No Uber or taxi would want me to step inside their vehicle looking like this.

“This crap is getting old, Caleb. You’re not a kid anymore. I can’t bail you out every time you decide to drink your weight in booze. It’s time you acted your fucking age and grew up a little,” Jack reprimands as if reading my thoughts.

“Ah, see, I beg to differ,” I shake my index finger at him. “Plenty of guys my age are still living their best lives in fraternities right now, getting shit-faced on the daily. No one gives them any grief.”

“Is that what this is about? Are you trying to make up for not having had the whole college experience?” His brows furrow in concern. “Because I’m sure if we talked to Nichols, he wouldn’t oppose you taking some college classes while playing for the Guardians.”

Ah, crap.

Not this again.

Jack and his thousand ways of how I could be a better version of myself.

“Just say the word, and I’ll talk to him tomorrow. If going back to school is really something you want to do, I’ll make it happen.”

“I love you, bro, but fuck no,” I hiccup, the taste of acrid bile rising to my throat again just at the thought of going back to school. “It was hard enough to graduate from high school. No way in hell am I going back to that.”

I watch my brother’s shoulders slump in disappointment. I guess it would be easier for him to stomach my partying if I was making something of myself. Apparently, me being the star goalie of one of the best teams in the NHL isn’t enough for Jack.

I have no idea why he thinks I can be more when I’m perfectly happy, just as I am.

I mean, I get it.

I understand why Jack thinks my life choices don’t make much sense, but shouldn’t I be the one allowed to make those choices?

So I like having a bit of fun on my nights off. So what?

You’re only young once, right?

Jack is the one who was a full-fledged adult before his balls even dropped.

Not me.

I intend to take my sweet-ass time.

Sensing that he won’t be able to talk any sense to me, he goes for another approach.

“This shit has to stop, Caleb. You can’t call me up at all hours of the night because you can’t handle your liquor. Here’s a novel idea—don’t drink. Then, I could at least have a good night’s sleep for once, not worrying about what you’re up to.”

“Hey, aren’t you the one that always says I need to be more responsible? What’s more responsible than calling my big brother to drive me home when I’m in this state?”

“A pain in my ass,” he replies with a snarl.

“Aw, come on, Jack. Just help me up already. It stinks down here,” I beg, holding out my arms again for him to take.

He drags his hand over his face but ultimately relents to my plea, pushing himself off his car door to help me up.

“Fuck. You’ve really outdone yourself tonight,” he complains, his nose scrunching when the foul odor of my vomit reaches his nostrils.

“Hey, you know my motto—go big or go home,” I smirk as he pulls me up with all his might.

But just as I try to stand on my own two feet, I suddenly get dizzy, the world spinning in circles around me.Thankfully, Jack grabs hold of me, preventing my knees from buckling.

“Fuck, you’re a mess,” he grumbles, helping me towards the car.

“Hey, don’t go kicking me when I’m down.”

“I’ll leave that to Erin.” He grins knowingly.

Shit.

“How angry is she?” I ask, already dreading my sister-in-law’s reaction to tonight’s little mishap.

“How angry do you think? You called at four in the morning, waking me, her, and both of our babies up. She’s beyond pissed.”

“Yeah, I thought as much. I’ll make it up to her.”

“Yes, you will,” my brother adds assertively. “I’m talking babysitting duty for a month, at least.”

“Sounds about right,” I mumble, mentally preparing myself not to get laid for a whole month just so I can play the nanny role.

Luckily for me, I love my nieces to death and enjoy spending time with the little chipmunks.

My dick, however, might have an issue with going on a forced sabbatical for the next thirty days.

“And if my wife doesn’t get the biggest apology bouquet from you in the morning, then don’t bother showing up at the house for the foreseeable future,” Jack adds just as we reach the car.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Consider it done,” I mumble, nauseous, doing my utmost best not to throw up all over his shoes.

Now I know why I had preferred the cold concrete floor to standing up.

The world is being a cold-hearted bitch right now, refusing to stop spinning, taking joy in my misery.

Yup.

This hangover is going to hurt like a motherfucker.

Maybe it’s a good thing that I’ll be housebound for a while.

Lord knows I like to party, but aftermaths like these, I can do without.

“Come on, let’s go home,” Jack takes pity on me, staring at my pale, gaunt face.

But just as he opens the passenger door to his car, I remember the new pair of car keys in my pocket.

“Wait… shit… Moneypenny.”

“What are you on about now?”

“Shit. I forgot. We can’t go in your car. You have to drive mine,” I tell him, forcing myself to be more alert.

“Excuse me?” he asks, still confused.

“I said we got to take my car. The one that Nichols gave me tonight for helping him get with Piper. See? I told you I’m a champion for love. I’m a goddamn cupid, am I right?” I chuckle but quickly flinch as the simple act of laughing triggers unsettling loud noises to rise from my stomach.

“Yeah, sure. All you need is a bow and arrow. And by the way you stink, maybe a diaper is needed too, to finish the ensemble.”

“Hardy har har,” I fake a laugh, worried that producing an actual chuckle might make my brother’s remark come true. “I’m serious, Jack. I can’t leave my brand-new car on the street. Moneypenny is just too pretty to sit here all on her lonesome. Besides, someone might steal it.”

“And what about my car?” he quips.

“You have a dad car. No one is going to steal it,” I reply like he should know better than to ask such a stupid question.

But all I’ve done is poke the bear since his next words come out clipped and aggressive.

“Just get in the car. Before I shove you in myself.”

“Nope. Not happening. You either drive me in my car, or I’ll drive myself.”

“You can’t even stand up straight, much less drive.”

“Then the choice should be an easy one for you to make.” I grin widely, thankful that I can still do that right.

“Just get in the car.”

“Nope.”

“Get in the fucking car, Caleb.”

“Not happening.”

He runs his fingers through his hair, pulling some strands out in frustration.

“Fine,” he relents, pissed. “Have it your way. We’ll take your damn car. But when you wake up with a monstrous hangover, I still want my car to be in my driveway before the day is done. Understood?”

“You got it.” I smile while getting the car keys from my pants pocket and placing them in the palm of his hand.

“Come on,” he grumbles, pulling me with him to walk towards the shiny new Aston Martin just a few cars down from us.

I don’t even dare to open my mouth on our little walk, too afraid I might puke whatever is left in my stomach if I so much as part my lips for air. When we finally reach the car, Jack is quick to open the door to usher me inside. I, however, am in no hurry.

In fact, I’m fucking dreading it.

The pristine white leather upholstery interior still has that new car smell, and something tells me that it won’t smell like that for long if bile continues to rise up my throat the way it has.

Jack must see the fear written all over my forehead and takes a second to relish in my discomfort.

“Do you need a minute?”

I look at my brother’s teasing face and back to the passenger front seat.

“I’m good,” I lie, praying that I don’t stink up my brand-new wheels with last night’s partying.

“Sure, you are,” he goads before helping me inside.

Ever so carefully, I slide on in, making sure to breathe from my nose so as not to tempt fate.

It’s only when I’m fully seated that Jack slams the door on me, making the car go all wobbly for a second, coaxing me to grab the dashboard for dear life.

When he slams the door again once he’s behind the wheel, I feel my head threaten to crack with the loud sound.

“Be gentle with her, will you?” I grumble, holding onto my temples.

“No promises.” He smirks, turning on the ignition. “You know what? This is a nice car. Let’s see how she rides,” he adds with a mischievous wink, one that tells me I’m going to be in a world of hurt.

When he puts the pedal to the metal, making the car fly down the empty street, I hold onto the dashboard, this time for a whole different reason.

My brother is usually a cautious driver, but tonight, he’s pushing it, and I know it’s for my benefit.

“Jack, this isn’t funny. Slow the fuck down,” I beg, feeling my insides slowly rise to my throat.

“Why? Are you going to puke on these fine, white-leather seats?” he mocks.

“You know I am, fucker. Slow down,” I implore. The world is spinning so fast in my head that it’s a miracle I’m still able to talk.

“It would serve you right, you know?” he says in his disapproving tone.

“I know,” I reply on autopilot.

“This shit of me always coming to the rescue has to stop. You need to grow up.”

“I know,” I grumble, tasting the bile on my tongue.

“I won’t always be around to take care of you. One day, you’re going to have to man up and become accountable for your own actions.”

“Sure, whatever you say, just slow down,” I beg, feeling all sorts of queasy watching the buildings blur in my peripheral vision.

“Not until you promise me that you’ll try to do better. That you’ll try to act like a fucking adult for once.”

I don’t have it in me to open my mouth, fearing the worst, so all I do is nod.

“You can still have fun, Caleb. I’m not asking you to become a monk or anything. That’s not what I’m asking of you. But this life you’re leading, shallow and vapid, is going to get you nowhere. And it would be a goddamn waste because you have so much potential. So fucking much. It kills me that you’d rather spend your days and nights getting wasted and sleeping with the first girl you meet instead of doing something worthwhile with your gifts,” he continues with his rant, oblivious that he just ran through a red light.

I want to warn him to slow down again, but I doubt Jack’s one-track mind would even allow him to hear me out. He’s too fixed on setting me straight, even at the cost of me throwing up all over my new car.

I think he’d actually prefer it, just to prove a point.

“You don’t see what I do. You don’t see what kind of man I know you could be if only you fucking tried. Don’t waste your life, little brother. It’s fucking fleeting,” he says poignantly. “I don’t want you to wake up one day and wonder where it all went. Because this fame and notoriety of us playing for the Guardians will end one day. Our youth will end. I have my girls, Caleb. I have my family, and that has always been what I wanted for myself. What I dreamed about. But what do you want? Do you even know?”

“I know I want out of this car,” I manage to reply with a weak laugh.

Jack lets out a little chuckle of his own but doesn’t ease up on the accelerator.

“All I want is for you to think about it. Can you do that for me?”

I nod.

“Good.” He smiles warmly, finally taking his foot off the gas pedal.

But it’s too late.

A second too late.

A heartbeat…a breath…too late.

Because it’s in this fractured instant, that the blinding headlights of a truck bear down on us, brutally colliding with Jack’s side of the car and forever shattering my reality as I knew it.