Chapter 6 #2
I’m starving, and Ashton grabs a seat next to me. I swear he’s trying to make sure that I don’t crack under pressure, and not from hockey.
“I can’t believe you didn’t invite us to the wedding,” Rowan says as he gestures at the ring on my finger. “When did that happen?”
“Saturday,” I say, between bites of eggs. “It was a very small ceremony.”
Not a complete lie, since when we did exchange vows, there were only a few people present. It wasn’t the wedding Mom had planned for us. It wasn’t the wedding day I envisioned either, chasing down my bride.
“Is the wife going to be at Thursday’s game?” Brooks asks. He’s the least annoying of the freshmen who are interrogating me about the wedding, probably because he hasn’t met Harper yet.
“Harper?” I say and take another bite of breakfast. “Doubt it. She has a kid, early bedtime and all that.” It’s an easy excuse that I can use, and since we’re playing an away game, I don’t have to lie.
“Your kid?” Brooks asks, his eyes widening.
“Only by marriage,” I say and pause, rubbing the back of my neck. That’s a conversation that we never had. If something does happen to Harper, who gets custody of Zeke?
A heavy conversation that I don’t ever want to think about, so I push that thought aside.
“Damn. Marriage and a kid,” Rowan says. “You really signed up for the entire package.”
Ashton grins. “Harper is the entire package. Have you seen her? Curves and all.” He makes a chef’s kiss gesture, and I want to fucking end him.
I glare at Ashton. If he’s trying to help, it’s not working. All he’s doing is making me jealous the way he speaks about my wife.
Ashton notices my discomfort and forces a smile. “I’m just saying congrats, man. You got the best of both worlds.”
No, I got a raw deal, but I can’t gripe about it to my teammates.
Liam sits across from me. He’s silent, scrolling through his phone and eating his breakfast, keeping to himself. I appreciate him not making things worse for me.
He knows the truth, just like Ashton. But Ashton would rather give me shit.
“Anything interesting?” I say, glancing at Liam, hoping to steer the conversation away from my fucked-up love life.
Liam smiles and shakes his head. “Just my friend with benefits,” he says. “She likes to send me pictures.”
Rowan reaches for Liam’s phone, and he snarls at him, shoving him off. “Get your own girlfriend.”
“Wow,” Rowan says. “I didn’t think you’d be so possessive since she’s just your side piece.”
“She’s actually a friend. We just hook up when we’re both in town. They’re pictures of her and her dog, jackass,” Liam growls at him.
Liam’s friends with benefits doesn’t go to school at Evergreen University, which makes the benefits situation seem less than ideal. But I know better than to mock Liam. He’d just pick a fight with me, and I already have Ashton doing that enough as it is.
“Would be better if they were pictures of her and her cat,” Ashton snickers.
“Do you have a death wish, Rinaldi?” Liam glares down at Ashton and then throws a croissant at his face.
“Oh, he definitely has one,” I say as I take another bite of my breakfast.
Ashton steals the pastry that assaulted him. “Thanks, man.” He holds the sweet treat up and grins before taking a bite.
The crowd at the ice arena is covered in green and black. We’re playing the Predators tonight, a team that’s only a few hours from the city. It’s a smaller private college, but they’ve been our longest and biggest rival.
Liam is stoked since his friend with benefits attends Great Falls College. We’d usually drive home after a game that’s within a couple of hours’ commute, but the forecast is calling for several inches of snow overnight, and it started after we arrived.
Coach booked a block of rooms for us at the local hotel in town. I share with Ashton, who isn’t the worst roommate to have, although whoever gets Liam is lucky, since he won’t be staying at the hotel.
There are no rules about leaving. If you have family, you’re allowed to crash with them for the night, so long as you’re back on the bus in the morning when we leave. Otherwise, you better find your own ride back to campus.
“The place is packed,” I say, noting the crowd. There’s a handful of Narwhals fans that stand out in teal and white, but there aren’t too many in the arena. I suspect the weather kept a lot of our fans from coming out tonight.
We warm up on the ice, do some stretching, and get ready to annihilate the Predators. There are no other options.
We need a win tonight.
Liam is on one side of me, Ashton on the other. “Did you see who is in the stands tonight?” Liam nods toward the plexiglass.
My vision scans the crowd, wondering who Liam sees.
In the front row, a gentleman with thick dark hair and even darker eyes is wearing a business suit. He seems a bit out of place, but I recognize him. “Is that—”
“Kyler Greyson,” Liam says, and his jaw clenches. “His annoying brat, Bristol, attends Great Falls.”
My breath catches in my throat. He must be visiting his daughter this weekend. “You know Greyson?”
“Which one—yes.” Liam answers a little too quickly. “Not that well. We went to private school together since we were little.”
“I meant Kyler Greyson.” I don’t care about Bristol. “Any chance of an introduction?” I ask, skating backward as my gaze doesn’t leave Mr. Greyson’s.
“Only if you want to make it yourself,” Liam says.
Greyson is the one chance I have at making the NHL and getting away from my father.
That’s not to say I couldn’t be drafted if I enroll in the NHL draft, but it’s a long shot. There are better players at other schools. I may be the best at Evergreen, but I’m not the best out there.
I’m not arrogant enough to think I have a future secured in playing professional hockey.
“Better make a good impression.” Ashton smacks my back.
He knows what I’m up against—my own father.
It’s the mafia or hockey.
Technically, Dante told me after a professional hockey career, I would still be required to join the family business, but if I make it big, there’s no way he’ll have a lick of control over me.
I just have to get famous.
Which starts with impressing Kyler Greyson, the new owner of the New York Ice Dragons and former NHL star hockey player.
“Or you could cozy up to Bristol and get me that introduction.” I wiggle my eyebrows at him.
Liam snorts. He stretches on the ice, getting loosened up before our game. “You’ve clearly never met Bristol.”
“What about Brooks? Is he dating anyone?” Look at me, trying to play matchmaker, so I get an introduction to Kyler Greyson.
“You’d have to ask Brooks.” Liam rolls his eyes and skates away from me. “But I wouldn’t do that to a friend,” he shouts.
During the first quarter, I try to focus on the game and not on the fact Kyler is watching us play. He’s probably more focused on the Predators than the Narwhals. The only way I have a chance of meeting with him is if I’m impressive in tonight’s match.
I manage to make two scores early in the first period. The Predators don’t seem to be taking the match seriously, but then I get bodychecked when chasing after the puck and my helmet flies off.
Fucking asshole.
“Think you’re some hotshot,” Tucker taunts. He doesn’t back down, his fist meeting my jaw, and it stings.
Ashton is right behind me, grabbing the jersey of the guy who hit me and slinging him around on the ice, throwing punch after punch into his side.
The other team races after Ashton. Brooks and Rowan move in to defend.
The referee blows his whistle, not that anyone can hear it.
I’m yanked back by an unfamiliar set of arms, and the fight breaks apart as we’re separated. At least Tucker is thrown into the penalty box.
Liam glances me over. “You okay?” His gaze lands on my jaw for a moment longer than necessary.
I’ll definitely be sporting a bruise tomorrow.
“Fine.”
Tucker seems to have it out for me for the rest of the night. I’m not sure, but it feels like the entire Predators team is in on his little game of beat the shit out of me.
Every time I have the puck, they chase me. Yes, that’s how the game is supposed to go, but after I shoot it to Ashton or Chase, they still faceplant me against the glass.
Every fucking time.
Tucker is the first to attack me. Then it’s one of his buddies, either Black or Wells. They play dirty.
The first time, at least Tucker landed in the penalty box. The second and third times, I get thrown in too.
For fuck’s sake, I can’t catch a break.
That’s just the first period.
In the second period, I feel off my game. Probably because I’m getting the shit kicked out of me every two minutes.
It’s fight after fight, which isn’t a huge surprise except they keep jumping me. And some of the body checking is legitimate, but it’s the shit where they intentionally grab my jersey or my stick and restrain me that should result in a penalty for holding.
But the referees don’t notice or at least they’re not calling the penalties.
It’s like they look the other way when there’s misconduct on the Predators’ side, but we so much as sneeze in their direction and we’re getting thrown in the penalty box.
It’s any wonder our team is still ahead, but the Predators are closing the gap, and by the end of the second period, we’re tied.
We skate off the ice to the locker room during intermission, and I’m sweating my ass off. My cheek stings, as does my jaw, but I ignore it, pumped up on adrenaline.
Coach goes over a few plays that we made earlier and what we can do to tighten our game. “They’re playing dirty. Don’t let them get into your heads.”
Too late for that.
I don’t even know why they’re riling me up so much, but it’s working. Probably because I’m already tense and frustrated with all the shit going on in my day-to-day life. Between Harper and Dante, I’m drowning in irritation and annoyance.
Tucker is just the final straw, it seems.
“Get back out there. You guys can still clinch this win in the third period. Give it all you’ve got.”
Coach continues yammering on, but I drown it out. I fix the laces on my skates and head back out with the team for our final period.
Ashton scores a goal in the last two minutes, and Tucker comes by, stealing the puck, sending it to his buddy Wells and they score, tying the game up.
It’s too close, and I don’t want their team getting an ounce of victory tonight. It should be ours. In the final seconds of the game, I score, securing our win, and it feels amazing.
I want to celebrate with the team and our friends.
After we shower and clean up, we head to the hotel. There’s alcohol snuck in by one of the seniors, since most of us aren’t old enough to drink.
A half dozen of the guys hang out in Ashton’s and my room, celebrating our win.
Liam hangs out with us for an hour until he gets his booty call and hurries out to meet up with her.
“Has anyone ever met Liam’s special friend?” I want to know if this girl actually exists or if he is harboring some other illicit secret.
Ashton shrugs. “Can’t say that I have. But didn’t he have pictures of her on his phone?”
“No one ever saw what they actually looked like. He wouldn’t show us.” Rowan stretches out on my bed, making himself at home.
“We should sneak out and follow him.” Brooks doesn’t so much as budge from his seat on the sofa. He points at the door. “Who’s with me?”
My legs don’t feel capable of moving. I collapse onto my bed and shove Rowan over. “You’re hogging half my bed. I don’t share with anyone.”
“Not even your wife?” Rowan raises an eyebrow.
I shut my eyes, sigh, and then open them as I reach for my beer. I’m going to need something stronger if we’re talking about Harper.
“Going that well, huh?” Brooks stretches his legs in front of him and then cracks his neck from side to side.
“Everything is fine.” I lie and hope I can go back to my uncanny acting ability that we’re happily in love.
But I don’t feel like putting on a show tonight. I already had my ass kicked on the ice, and while we won, I can’t help but feel a tiny bit defeated.
“What about you?” Rowan turns to Ashton, who is seated on his bed by himself.
“We’re not discussing my love life.” Ashton’s eyes widen as he takes a swig from his beer.
Who the hell is Ashton Rinaldi dating? I haven’t seen any girl climb into his bed since we moved into the new place. Besides, he doesn’t date. He’s more of a one-night stand guy.
“Because Ashton doesn’t have a love life.” I point at him, waiting for him to tell the guys that they’re wrong, that he doesn’t believe in dating and love.
Ashton falls silent and takes another drink from his beer bottle. He tips his head back, guzzling that fucker right down.
“Who the hell are you dating?” I sit up and glare at him. “I’d know if you brought a girl into our home.”
“Relax.” Ashton puts the bottle down on the nightstand. “It’s just me and my hand.”
Brooks snorts with laughter, his face turning bright red.
Rowan shakes his head, grinning like an idiot. “If you’re that hard up, there are puck bunnies who’d give you a hand—or a mouth.”
Ashton stands, takes his phone with him, and heads toward the bathroom. “You guys are assholes.” He slams the bathroom door shut behind himself.