Chapter 1
TRAVIS
“Nice game tonight. Two goals in two minutes. Impressive start.” I hold up a fist to my teammate Nick with what’s left of my energy.
He lets loose an uncharacteristic grin as he taps his knuckles against mine. “Thanks.”
Tonight was our first regular season game in front of our home crowd. We pulled out a win, thanks mostly to Nick.
“Is this what we can expect from you all season?” I ask.
“I hope so.” He tips his head to me. “Nice assist, by the way.”
I played pretty well too, but three shots on goal and nothing found the back of the net.
“Are you going to MVP?” I ask, standing and pulling off my shoulder and elbow pads.
“Yeah. Ruby and I are going to stop by the bar for a little bit.”
“Ah good. I’ve missed our girl.”
“Our girl?” He quirks a brow at me but smiles. He does a lot of that these days. The smiling. Also, the brow quirking. He’s a grump in love.
“I mean, yeah. I’d say she’s ours. I have a picture of her wearing my jersey as my phone wallpaper. Want to see it?” I flick my head toward the locker behind me.
His lips curve into a big smile, which is the opposite reaction I was expecting. He smooths it out before he says, “She’s wearing my jersey tonight so clearly she’s mine.”
“What was that smile about?” I make a circle with my finger pointing to his face.
“Nothing.” The corners of his mouth tick up slightly. He looks like he’s fighting his natural reaction. The question is why.
“You had sex with her while she was wearing my jersey, didn’t you?”
“While she was wearing your jersey?” He parrots the question back like the idea is completely absurd, but he’s stopped fighting the smile that threatened to break his grumpy-resting face and flashes a big, wolfish grin my way.
I’d say that’s a yes. Well, shit. Way to ruin that visual for me.
I gifted her one of my jerseys at her going away party a couple months ago, before she decided to stay in Moonshot.
It was part gift and part gag. I knew Nick would hate it, especially if she wore it, which she did.
And now I’m trying hard not to imagine him fucking her in it.
Without any further words, he turns on his heel to leave.
“Not cool, Galaxy!” I shout after him. No wonder I’m at the beginning of a slump. He messed with the sanctity of my jersey.
He lifts a hand over his head and says, “See you at MVP.”
With a shake of my head, I turn to my locker and pull out my phone.
When I slide my thumb over the screen, it comes to life.
The picture of Ruby in my jersey is there, just like I told him.
And okay, maybe that sounds odd—having your best friend’s girlfriend as your wallpaper—but it’s a great photo.
I took it right after I’d given her the jersey.
She pulled it on and smiled right at me.
She looks happy and beautiful, of course, because Ruby’s a stunner.
But it isn’t the whole reason I made it my background.
Also, if Nick thought I was truly creeping on his girl, he would have already kicked my ass.
He probably thinks I do it to get a reaction out of him, and while that is fun (I love poking the bear), I’m not in love with Ruby. I’m in love with the idea of Ruby.
Nick was the least likely guy I knew to fall into a serious relationship.
Before Ruby came into his life, he was closed off to the idea of dating.
He blamed it on being a single dad and needing to focus on taking care of his son, Aidan, but that was bullshit.
I knew it. He knew it. He wasn’t looking at all.
He had his feelings and life locked up tight.
And then bam, Ruby happened. If it can happen for him, maybe it can happen for me?
That’s probably the post-game adrenaline crash talking.
Being single, not having someone in the crowd here just for me, always hits hardest after home games.
The rest of the guys are hurrying to get changed and meet up with their wives, girlfriends, significant others, and family that were in attendance tonight.
No one is here for me. There’s never anyone here for me.
Pushing it from my mind, I head for the shower. Five minutes under the hot stream of water does wonders for my mental state and by the time I’m dried off and getting dressed, I’m ready to enjoy the night.
I’m lucky, really. I have great friends and a great career. So what if I don’t have a Ruby? There’s more to life than love and sex…right?
Tonight, I’m ready to celebrate all the things I do have. And if the night ends with a gorgeous woman accompanying me home, then I’d say the season is off to a fantastic start.
At MVP, our favorite restaurant and bar, I find my teammates already spread out in our usual spot.
It’s busy tonight, unsurprisingly. After home games, this place is always packed.
But the first of the season has an entirely different vibe.
It’s friendly chaos and I am living for it.
My earlier worries are a vague niggling in the back of my mind and easily pushed aside as soon as I get the first drink in my hand.
There’s something soothing about the routine of it all. Same bar, same friends, same drink. I bet I could write a play-by-play of how the night will go down almost to the minute.
Any minute now, my teammate and buddy, Conrad Shepard, or Shep as we call him, is going to get bored of standing around.
He’ll be the first to suggest we play shuffleboard.
It’s our bar game of choice. Darts or billiards will do in a pinch.
Or cards if we’re on the plane or at someone’s house.
I’m not great at any of them. I get too caught up in socializing.
My first juniors’ hockey coach used to say that the only place I didn’t run my mouth nonstop was on the ice.
I guess that’s true. Not sure why, but I’m grateful since I’m not qualified to do a whole lot more.
Shep meets my eye across the group. We’re standing in a circle: me, Shep, D-Low, Penn, and Galaxy and Ruby.
Currently Ruby and D-Low are in deep discussion about a plot point in Ruby’s new book.
She’s an author and D-Low is a big reader.
They could talk story stuff for hours. And Nick could (and does) stare and listen to his girl all night long.
Penn is in an uncharacteristically good mood. He should be. He had a great night in the net. After returning from another knee surgery, we’re all relieved that he’s back out there with us. He’s the best goalie in the league. Hands down.
On most nights, he fades into the background. Always listening, but rarely jumping into conversations. Tonight, though, he’s right in the middle of the book talk.
Which means me and Shep are the odd ones out.
“Shuffleboard?” He mouths the question more than speaks it.
I nod and back out of the group. On game nights, Lou, the bar owner, reserves one board for us all night. I pluck the reserved sign off the middle of the table and give Lou a nod of gratitude.
Instead of a coin flip, we decide who goes first by who had the better stats of the night. In this case, I have to concede to let Shep take the first shot.
As he’s getting into position, my phone vibrates in my pocket.
I walk over to the nearest high-top table and set my beer next to Shep’s.
I have a slew of unanswered messages, but I focus only on the newest one from my security company.
I get an alert any time a sensor is tripped and, in this case, it’s notifying me of motion on the right side of the property.
I go to the live feed, assuming it’s wildlife that’s set off the alarm.
Instead, I zoom in on what looks like a teenager climbing a tree in the neighbor’s yard.
I can’t make out a lot in the dark, but the kid is wearing a hoodie that makes it hard to see their face.
The tree is technically on my property, but the branches span over both lines.
Ms. Martha, the older woman that lives there, is currently visiting her sister in California.
I know because she often brings me baked goods and the last time she did, only a week ago, she mentioned she’d be gone until the new year.
“You’re up,” Shep says.
I glance up from my phone. “Sorry. One second.”
The alarm company is calling me now, no doubt to check that everything is okay.
“Hi,” I answer, then put the call on speaker so I can continue to watch the camera.
“Hi, Mr. Bennett. It’s Brad at Southcentral Alarm. We had an alert that the side yard motion sensor was tripped. Is everything okay?”
“I’m not sure,” I say as the figure on the screen pushes open a window on the second floor and pulls themselves inside. Shit.
“Everything okay?” Shep asks quietly from beside me.
I hold out the phone so he can see. He leans down to get a closer look as the person who just went inside pulls the window down after them.
“It’s not on my property. It’s next door,” I tell him and the guy on the phone.
“Do you want me to send someone to check it out?” Brad asks.
I could text Martha and make sure she isn’t expecting anyone, but my gut tells me if she were, that person wouldn’t be going in through the window.
“Yeah, that’s probably best. The owner is out of town,” I say, continuing to watch the camera feed even though there’s nothing to see anymore.
“Shit,” Shep whispers next to me.
I nod my agreement. I don’t want this kid to get in trouble.
If I were home, I’d walk over and check it out myself.
Maybe that isn’t the smartest idea either, but at least I’d feel better about getting the police involved if I had a better sense of the situation.
My cameras aren’t pointed in a way that I can see a lot of Martha’s house beyond the two windows that my property butts up next to.
“All right. We’ll get someone out right away,” Brad tells me in that professional monotone that indicates he’s reading from a script. “Have a good night. Thanks for using Southcentral Alarm.”
“Thanks.” I end the call with a pit in my stomach. That kid is about to have a very bad night. I shouldn’t feel guilty. He trespassed into someone’s house, but I do anyway.
“That’s wild,” Shep says. “Do you have a lot of kids causing trouble in the neighborhood?”
“No.” I shake my head. “It’s a gated community.”
Which now that I think about it has me even more perplexed. What kind of kid is dumb enough to break into a house in one of the best neighborhoods in Moonshot? He has to know there are cameras all over.
I let the unease roll off me as Penn and D-Low come over to join us.
“Did you guys already start?” D-Low asks.
“One throw,” Shep tells him. “You can still jump in.”
Despite my earlier excitement for the night, I spend most of the next few hours feeling off.
I don’t know if it’s the worry about Martha’s house and hoping the kid didn’t cause too much damage and consequentially doesn’t get into too much trouble or if it’s just an overarching sense of change that has me off-kilter.
Galaxy has never been big on staying out, so it isn’t all that surprising when he takes off early but seeing him leave with Ruby has that odd sense of wanting settling in again.
Penn goes home early too. Then it’s just me, Shep, and D-Low.
Danny’s been hooking up with this one chick the past couple months so when she shows up, they’re in their own little bubble.
Shep and I are back at the bar, talking to a group of women out celebrating one of their birthdays.
They told us their names, but it was loud and I’ve already forgotten—another sign I’m off my game.
I’m good with names. I’m good with people. And I’m especially good with women.
Shep is only here in body. He’s said less than five words.
The guy is quiet in general, but around the opposite sex he freezes up completely.
There’s a pretty blond with big blue eyes in the group of five that can’t stop staring at him.
She’s tried to pull him into conversation three times now and he’s either not interested or too oblivious to see that she’s clearly into him.
When the whole group of them excuses themselves to go take a shot with more of their friends, I turn to him.
“What’s wrong with you? She’s cute.”
“Who?”
“The blond one.” I wave a hand in their direction.
“Bella?”
“You know her name, but you can’t answer any of her questions in a complete sentence?”
His cheeks flush a deep ruddy color. “I answered her.”
“Yeah, but you used the smallest number of words possible like you were trying to blow her off.”
His lips curve down. “Fuck. I did, didn’t I? I get so fucking nervous.”
“Why?” The question comes out with a chuckle. Shep is ridiculously hot. I feel qualified in my analysis, given I’ve spent enough time around him, that I’ve seen plenty of women throw themselves at him. Unsuccessfully, I might add.
“I don’t know. Every time I’m the least bit attracted to someone, I get flustered. I’m instantly transported back to middle school.”
“What happened in middle school?” If he tells me he was ugly and teased, I wouldn’t believe him. There’s literally no way he wasn’t always hot.
“Forget it. It’s stupid. I’m gonna go.”
“No.” I set my beer on the bar and then place both hands on his shoulders. “We’re not leaving here until we get you squared away. I can’t continue to watch you bomb with women every time we’re out.”
“Thanks a lot,” he mutters under his breath.
Another laugh slips out. “You’re too good-looking and too fucking nice of a guy to understand what a tragedy it really is. Now come on, tell me everything.”
“Everything?”
“What happened in middle school? What’s your type? Any kinks? Turn-offs? Lay it all on me. I’m going to be your wingman.”
A hint of a smile pulls at one side of his mouth. “What do you get out of it?”
“All your future dates’ hot friends, of course.”