Chapter 2
Chapter Two
I don’t care if my message ends up a screenshot. I said what I said.
— Jeremiah’s secret thoughts
JEREMIAH
I touched a hand to my chest as I watched the two women skate away.
Well , I watched as one was practically dragged and held up, and the other skated away.
It was apparent that one had no issues being on skates, and the other probably needed to double check to make sure she had current insurance.
“ Why are you touching your chest like that?” Emrys , left defenseman, asked.
I didn’t know.
I hadn’t been aware that I was doing it.
I pulled my hand away and forced my breathing to come back under control.
“ Down , boy.”
I looked at my best friend, Bryson , and narrowed my eyes. “ What ?”
“ You look like you might start drooling any second,” Bryson teased.
I might.
I fucking might.
“ She’s everything,” I found myself saying.
“ And he’s sunk.” Bryson chuckled. “ Let’s go get changed.”
“ What are they doing in that area of the rink again?” I asked.
“ I think roller derby,” another one of our teammates, Jefferson , said.
“ What ?” I asked. “ Since when do they do roller derby?”
“ Since the owner’s daughter, Calliope , started getting really into it and asked her dad if they could take over one of the practice areas since they’re not all in use at night,” Bryson explained.
I whipped my head toward him. “ Why do you know that?”
Bryson shrugged, but avoided my eyes, which let me know that he had a reason for knowing that and wasn’t going to share it with me.
Truthfully , I knew what he wasn’t sharing.
He had a thing for Calliope , and he didn’t want to drag me into their mess.
I was thankful, because the last thing that I needed was another scandal.
After not one, not two, but four women came out and claimed that I’d gotten them pregnant—all allegations absolutely, positively false, seeing as I hadn’t had sex with anyone , let alone gotten them pregnant—the team wasn’t real hip on yet another scandal.
In all honesty, neither was I .
Last year, I’d gotten a brand new, three hundred-and-fifty-million-dollar contract with the Thundercats . Then , a week after that, I’d won the lottery—two hundred and fifty million. A week after that, my grandfather had died, leaving me another four hundred million.
And just like that, I’d become a billionaire in the span of a month.
Cue all of the sick fucks that saw dollar signs.
They’d come out of the woodwork in droves.
At this point, I had to have a bodyguard—or my buddies—around me to always have an alibi.
I went to work.
I went home.
There was no other variation in my routine.
Except today.
“ How do y’all feel about watching a roller derby practice?” I asked.
Because the way I was feeling was ecstatic.
I didn’t know why I felt so strongly about the woman that had just literally fallen into my arms, but something in this universe was telling me I needed to pursue her. To find out what that spark was that I felt when her skin touched mine.
And her eyes.
They felt like a shock straight to my soul, and eerily familiar. Like I’d seen them before.
“ Gotta shower first,” Bryson said, trying to act nonchalant but appearing anything but. “ I can’t go in there smelling like swamp ass.”
I tended to agree with him, though.
“ Let’s go,” I suggested. “ Meet back here in ten.”
“ We’re going to the same place, dufus,” Jefferson pointed out.
“ I want to go,” Audric , our forward, called out. “ But I have to stay back and see the trainer. I’ll meet you here.”
“ Same ,” Lance , our goalie, said. “ This groin is killing me after all those sprints.”
Finnian and Piers , who were directly behind me, said at the same time, “ We’ll meet you at the rink. Gonna grab a bite to eat out of the team cafeteria.”
I flipped Jefferson off as we passed through the locker room door.
He laughed and headed directly to his locker which was across the room from mine.
Seeing as I was the oldest standing member of the Oklahoma Thundercats , as well as the team captain, I got the center stage spot right in the middle of the room next to the snack table.
I also had the only locker on the wall, away from everyone’s smelly jock straps and three-day-old socks.
It was glorious, and a constant reminder that I didn’t have much longer in the NHL .
If I was lucky, I’d have two years tops. And that was if I didn’t hurt myself, which was a distinct possibility.
I hurt.
I hurt all the fucking time.
There wasn’t a morning that I got up and I didn’t hurt.
I was forty-two years old, and well past my prime.
The next oldest person on the team was Bryson at thirty-nine.
The Thundercats were all I knew.
I was drafted by them at twenty-two, and I’d been with them ever since.
“ Come on, Virgin Mary ,” Bryson called out. “ Get your shower done so we can go!”
If he only had any clue how true that statement was.
I’d never really set out to be the oldest virgin alive, yet, I was accomplishing it nonetheless.
Being the son and grandson of two of the richest people in the world, I’d had my fair share of people that were out to get me for my money alone.
I’d learned that lesson the hard way when I was in high school and my then high school girlfriend, Tiffany , had decided that I was going to be her ticket out of the hellhole town she called home.
When I found her poking holes in the condoms we were about to use, I learned a valuable life lesson. I couldn’t trust women.
At least, most of them, anyway.
Even my own mother admitted that she was only with my father for the money.
And I didn’t want to spend my life learning that the hard way.
In college, I’d tried to do the whole dating thing again, only to almost get baby trapped for a second time.
This would happen three more times before I just gave up completely.
Was I sexually frustrated? Yes .
Was I willing to fuck just anyone without trusting them one hundred percent first? A resounding hell no.
I still hadn’t found that, and at this point, I thought maybe I never would.
Except …there was just something about the girl that drew me to her. Something that pulled at my soul from the moment that I’d spotted her trying—and failing—to skate down the hallway.
Which was the sole reason that I’d wanted to go to the practice and watch.
Maybe it was only a fascination that would pass. Whatever it was, I intended to find out.
“ Ruh -roh,” I heard called.
I looked away from my locker where I’d been standing to my best friend, who was now standing in front of his locker buck naked.
“ What ?” I asked.
His grin was lecherous when he said, “ If I can’t get you to check out my naked body, then I’ve already lost your heart.”
I flipped him off, snatched my towel from the top of my locker, and headed for the shower.
Unlike him, I didn’t need time to prep my hair— IE product, style, and blow-dry—so it took me all of five minutes to shower and get dressed before being ready to walk back out the door.
The majority of the starting lineup followed me out the door and to the practice arena where we could hear a woman yelling.
“ That’s Calliope .”