Chapter 4
packy
I made it to Buffalo, packed for the trip, and drank a couple of beers to take the edge off. It didn’t work. Since my flight to Atlanta wasn’t until the next afternoon, I spent a few hours glaring at the walls, cataloging all the ways my life had gone sideways, before finally calling it a night.
There was a time when I’d have fucked the frustration out of my system, but sex hadn’t been part of my life since my cheating ex walked out and fast-tracked our divorce.
After that, I buried myself in hockey and told myself I was fine.
But I hadn’t had sex in well over a year, and jerking off to porn only left me more wound up than when I started.
So I lay awake and took inventory again. With a solid career and beautiful wife, I used to think I had everything. Now I was a cuckold rattling around alone in a house built for a family. As if fate hadn’t already screwed me enough, the next few months would revolve around Nico Rossi.
Jesus, why him? There was no way Marissa believed Nico and I were friends. Our on-ice fights were legendary, and it wouldn’t take half a brain to know we’d be a nightmare working together.
With a groan, I rolled over and dragged a pillow over my head.
I needed sleep, but goddamn Nico Rossi wouldn’t leave me alone.
He kept floating up, his stupid, perfect face with its sharp jaw and calm brown eyes.
There wasn’t a goddamn flaw anywhere, not even a hair out of place after a game. And his mouth…
Christ. Don’t go there.
“Goddammit!” Flinging the pillow aside, I rolled over again and tried to think about my quick trip to St. Barts over the holiday break.
It was no use because my traitorous brain moved on to Nico’s body.
He’d always been the envy of any locker room.
A college teammate once compared him to a luxury car, all polished lines and toned muscle.
The way he’d strutted around the locker room at last weekend’s All-Star game was obscene. Harpy and I started wondering if he’d take the ice naked. Fuck Nico. He’d only gotten better with age, and he knew it. Hell, the whole damn world knew it.
I sat up and squeezed my head until it hurt. What the actual fuck was wrong with me? Why did I even remember what he looked like? Desperate for a distraction, I turned on the white noise machine and cranked it to Windstorm.
A few hours later, the alarm clock raised me from the dead.
I’d be flying to Atlanta in a few hours, but seeing my friends sounded a hell of a lot better than sitting at home.
So, I drove to the Warriors’ practice facility and trudged inside, hoping some ice time and locker-room chirping would clear my head.
Before the rumor mill beat me to it, I wanted to tell the boys how I’d been drafted as one of Gasser’s minions.
The guys were already skating, so I threw on my practice gear and joined them.
It was a typical Warriors morning skate with drills, a scrimmage, nonstop chirping, and Coach Criswell yelling about every wrong move.
He kept saying the Detroit Huskies would eat us alive the next night if we didn’t pull our heads out of our asses.
I wished I could be there to help, but instead of beating the Huskies, I’d be pretending to like my archnemesis and dying inside a little more every minute.
After practice, we filed back into the locker room.
A few guys shot me looks as we stripped off our gear and headed for the showers.
Once we were back at our stalls and dressed, I clapped my hands for everyone’s attention.
“I’ve got news, boys. The league’s starting a big outreach thing, and I’m part of it.
Means at times I’ll be gone over the next few months. ”
Harpy shot Dog a look and said, “Yeah, we know.”
That caught me off guard. “How? Did management send an email? I didn’t get one.”
“Perfect timing for me to walk in,” Criswell said as he stepped into the room.
“It’ll be a hardship having Packy miss a few games, but this is the path the owners have chosen.
You’re all excellent players, or you wouldn’t be here.
I’m confident you’ll step up and do what needs to be done.
We’ll miss Packy, but that won’t stop us. ”
“Thanks, Coach,” I said.
He reached for my hand, and we shook. “Good luck, Packy. Do us proud.”
Criswell left, and Gabe spoke from across the room, “We won’t let the team fall apart, Packy.”
“I’m sure,” I said, “but how did you guys already know?”
Brody, a few stalls down, grinned. “Logan found it on ESPN and filled us in.”
Logan, still tying his shoes, flashed me an evil grin. “There were videos too. One of you and Rossi.”
“Fuck. You saw that?”
Dog barked out a laugh. “Man, we all did.”
Holky wandered over and smacked me on the back. “After Logan texted, we couldn’t find the video. But Mason tracked it down on YouTube, and…” He held up his phone. “Look who’s an internet star.”
The thumbnail made my stomach clench. Nico and I were shoulder to shoulder, grinning like we’d won the Olympics.
Holky hit play. I braced myself for humiliation, but it wasn’t as bad as I remembered. We didn’t look like we were about to kill each other. When the guys laughed at one of the cheesier lines, I noticed they’d circled around me, grinning like a pack of hyenas. They cackled when the video ended.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
Riley leaned against a stall with a smirk locked in place. “Wrong question, Packy.”
“How so?”
His smirk widened into a stupid grin. “The right question is, what the actual fuck?”
“Yeah,” Holky said. “Seriously.”
Harpy met my eyes, and for a second, his halo flickered enough to show the horns underneath.
He raised his eyebrows. “I thought you hated Rossi.”
“I do.”
Abdulov—Abby—called from across the room, his accent thicker than usual. “Am not sure this is true. You looked like you wanted to kiss him.”
The room exploded with laughter.
I threw up my hands. “Jesus Christ. The league paired us up, and believe me, I’m not thrilled about it.”
“Sure about that?” Logan asked. “You didn’t look unhappy in the video.”
The guys carried on like they were at a comedy show while my ears burned.
“You’ve talked shit about Rossi for years,” Gabe said, “but that interview was a lovefest.”
I didn’t like where this was headed, so I took a breath and counted to five. “We. Had. No. Choice.”
Dog squeezed my shoulder. “We’re not saying you had a choice about doing the interview. But during it, things got weird. You and Rossi seemed—”
Out of patience, I snapped, “Seemed what?”
Harpy tilted his head, unable to hide a devilish grin. “You two were… cozy.”
“The fuck?” I fought to keep my voice down. “You’re all crazy.”
Riley shook his head. “Those looks you gave each other were boiling. Then he put his arm around you and caressed your cheek.”
“He didn’t caress it.”
“Did too,” Riley said. “Then you blew in his ear.”
“I did not!” I wanted to punch Riley, but held back. Hitting one of my best friends over my frustration about Nico was not an option.
“You either blew in his ear or kissed it,” Holky said, like it was a fact.
“Fuck off.” My jaw clenched. “I almost decked him when he put his arm around me, and I didn’t blow in his goddamn ear. In fact, I whispered I’d kill him if he touched me again.”
Brody grinned. “Okay, but what about the other times? What were you whispering then?”
“Go to hell.” I glanced around, desperate for an escape.
“It wasn’t only the whispering.” Blunt grinned like an ass. “It was all those sweet little lines, and the way you kept making goo-goo eyes at each other.”
“We were being sarcastic,” I said carefully.
“You know, saying one thing and meaning another.” I stuffed my hands in my pockets and stared at the floor.
“I haven’t liked Nico since college. We didn’t get along then, and nothing’s changed.
I don’t know how I’ll survive the next few months.
” I looked up, meeting as many eyes as I could.
“Please drop the asshole routine. It’s making me feel awful. ”
The guys stepped back, and Harpy tapped my arm. “I’m sorry we went too far. We were only messing around.”
Nodding was beyond me right then, so I said, “I’m stressed. I don’t want to miss any games, and I’d rather have the flu than spend time with Nico. Sorry if I sounded like an ass.”
“You didn’t,” Gabe said, slinging an arm around my shoulders. Then he widened his eyes. “Is this okay, or should I be writing my will?”
The guys cracked up, and I laughed along. After a moment, I said, “It’s fine, but don’t expect me to blow in your ear.”
That set them off again. Riley play-punched my arm, and Dog cackled like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.
Lunch went better than expected, all things considered. Thankfully, no one made any more remarks about Nico and me. Afterward, in the parking lot, they all gave me man-hugs and back slaps.
Harpy went last and, as always, proved he was both a good friend and the perfect guy to wear the C. “Don’t get worn out on your trip. You’ll be back in a few days, and we’ll need your help kicking Pittsburgh’s ass.”
I nodded.
“Stay in touch, and if you need to talk about anything, call me. Day or night.”
A few others echoed the offer, and I drove home thinking how lucky I was. My Warriors brothers were family. When things fell apart with Mia, they took care of me. After she filed for divorce, they kept me sane. Everyone deserved friends like that, as long as they knew when to shut up about Nico.
At home, I tossed a few more things into my suitcase, pulled my garment bag out of the closet, and lingered in the foyer longer than necessary. Wishing like hell I didn’t have to do it, I grabbed my keys and headed for the airport.
Three days with Nico Rossi. What could possibly go wrong?