Chapter 1
One
Ezra
Present
Devil reincarnate.
That’s what that red-haired demon is. And I hate her with a passion.
What I hate even more, though, is the fact that she’s laughing her heart out, sitting at the table across from me, like she doesn’t annoy me just by being in my vicinity. And now I have to listen to her laugh, too.
Can’t a man enjoy a night out with his team after getting a W against the Seattle Strikers?
My brows furrow when she throws her head back again at whatever that dude with blond hair and big eyes whispers in her ear. I never see her laughing at my jokes.
What even is that funny? His existence?
I don’t understand why she has to look so stunning that not a single person who’s attracted to women can keep their eyes off her, not even if they tried.
The warm light reflects off her fiery hair, as the curve of her swan-like neck glints under the light. I wonder what it would feel like to sink my teeth into it.
My eyes widen at my own thoughts, but I do nothing to stop them.
“Just a little more force, and I’m sure you will crush this glass of IPA with your bare hands.
” Noah, my goalie and best friend, speaks in a voice dripping with sarcasm in my ear, successfully diverting my attention as my hold loosens on the glass I didn’t realize I was clutching so tightly.
“And quit glaring at the poor dude. He’ll turn to ashes at this rate if you don’t turn down your intensity a notch. ”
His words make me clench my jaw at being caught doing something as juvenile as glaring. But I continue with the act when I reply, “Careful, your mama-hen attitude is showing.”
And being the man who never shies away from calling it as he sees it, he retorts, “Careful, your obsession with the redhead is showing.”
My glare turns to him, to which he only reacts with a wink. His chocolate-colored eyes shine with mischief as the light reflects off his golden hair.
Knowing my tough attitude won’t work on him, I drop my head between my shoulders and exhale a long breath. His hand reaches out to give my back two sympathetic pats before he withdraws, engaging in conversation with the other guys.
Noah has always been the one to get me on the right track whenever it looks like I might veer off the wrong path. He’s thirty to my twenty-six and has been playing for the team longer than I have, yet nothing ever seems to come between our friendship.
He’s the type of guy I can trust with my eyes closed, the one who gets you out of jail in the middle of the night.
His bulky stature might fool people, but he’s the softest and most caring guy of us all.
His voice rings in my head, reminding me that this night out is for team bonding and not sulking with a glass of beer after a woman who wants nothing to do with me. So, being the one who wears a C on his jersey, I get my shit together and tune into the conversation at our table.
As if sensing my awareness, Sebastian chirps, “Ezra, your winning goal was so damn clean. It was fire!” The awe and enthusiasm in his voice make an involuntary smile sneak up on my lips. He’s a good kid and an even better winger.
I’ve been in his shoes, looking up at my seniors like they were heroes. It’s surreal to see how they now think of me as a hero. That I’m the one who sets the precedents my team follows.
That, and the title of captain, come with far greater responsibilities than I know how to handle. But I’m glad my boys are good and make it easy for me.
I raise my half-finished glass at him. “Thanks, rookie. Your assist with that was crucial.” I wink at him for good measure. His eyes light up at my acknowledgment.
This is the reason we’re in this seedy bar, Holly’s, tonight. To motivate the guys and keep up the good work. Bonding, understanding, and respect for each other are equally important on and off the ice. If you can’t make it work when hanging out, then playing together proves to be a challenge.
Holly’s is perfect for that. It’s our go-to spot whenever we’re in Seattle for a game. The wooden structure, yellow lights, and black and white photos hanging on the wall emphasize its rustic and vintage vibe.
The jukebox in the corner is playing old music, which could barely be heard over the slurred arguments of patrons who have long crossed their liquor holding threshold.
Customers hardly recognized us as they spent another night in their rumpled clothes in a bar where cigarette smoke hung low, curling into the air in lazy, oppressive swirls.
My center, Oliver, places his arm over Seb’s shoulder and ruffles the kid’s hair. “Yeah, rookie. You’re the man.” Everyone at the table laughs at their display of affection and continues pulling each other’s legs.
Soon, the team is wiped, and we all take our leave. Seb leaves with a curvy brunette, and I shake my head at him with a smirk. Can’t say that I blame him. I was once the exact same.
Not anymore, though.
My gaze again finds our Social Media Manager, Kaeli, where she’s still engrossed with that dude, her arm all over his.
Why do I want to deck that dude in the face?
Noah saves me from a PR scandal as he steers me to our hotel, where we are paired up in the same room.
Damn it. I hate that she still gets under my skin even after all these years. I won’t lie to myself, even if that makes me an asshole, but after our first interaction three years ago, I was a little relieved that she didn’t get the job. Our team didn’t need rude and negative energy.
Or so she thought, because that’s what she led me to believe that day. All I wanted was to apologize for spilling that coffee before her interview. So, I waited for her at that turn. But all I got was a cold and harsh treatment.
I mean, I get it. It was my fault for not watching my steps or paying attention to my surroundings. And not to give an excuse, but I had the game of my hockey career the night prior, so I might’ve been a little bit in my head.
That’s why I offered her an apology drink, but her brash and snappy attitude annoyed me long after she left.
And just when I thought I had gotten her out of my mind, lo and behold, a couple of weeks later, she saunters in with the company ID swinging around her swan-like neck, shadowing Stacy, our then Social Media Manager.
Instead of apologizing for her behavior since she secured her internship, she was shooting daggers at me when she thought no one was watching. Even that devilish attitude was solely reserved for me. She flashed a smile and talked politely to literally every other person to walk the Earth.
Especially that blond-haired dude at Holly’s. I’ve seen her spend her time with him whenever we have a game in Seattle. However, I’ve never seen the guy’s face properly. He’s not related to hockey, that’s for sure.
Who even is he?
Goddamn it! The mere thought of her with that guy stirs me crazy because all night, I keep restlessly twisting and turning in bed, wondering if she went to her room with him.
* * *
We take an early flight back to Boston. The moment I step out of the airport, the chill and the bite of the frigid air scratch my exposed skin, making an involuntary shudder course through me.
All of us bid bye for now, knowing we’ll meet soon enough to get the grind on, it being a regular season and all. “Don’t be late to the arena,” the coach reminds us before dismissing us and heading off with his wife under his arm.
I hail a taxi and climb in, directing the driver to my house. The view outside the window looks as muddled as the thoughts in my head. The truth of how utterly lonely I feel gnaws at my peace.
I wonder what it would be like to have that one person just for yourself. A person who understands you better than anyone. Someone who looks at you and sees you instead of how you make them look.
The person you know will always be in your corner, even when the whole world is against you. Yeah, I’ve never had that person.
I did have a serious girlfriend all through college. Turned out she wanted me for her image, for how dating me made her look. She had no personal interest in me whatsoever. I don’t think the word monogamy existed in her dictionary.
No problem with that, but a heads-up would’ve been nice before I walked in to see her crowded by a quarter of my team with barely any clothes on and getting some action.
It’s been almost five years, but it still keeps me from giving a real shot to a relationship. Yeah, that kinda shit tends to stick with you for longer than you think.
Then I quit the dating scene, solely focused on becoming the best in the sport I loved so much, knowing that at least hockey would never cheat on me or embarrass me. All I had left in me were meaningless hookups.
Being a star player makes puck bunnies fawn all over you, all ready and willing for a one-night stand. They knew the score. Though I always used protection and never slept with the same girl twice. It has surely saved me a lot of trouble.
The taxi’s honk puts an abrupt halt to my retrospective thoughts. Paying the driver, I enter my apartment building, where I greet Abe, the building watchman.
I chat with him and ask what’s new with his wife, Maria. He tells me she’s visiting their son and grandchildren, though he misses her something fierce. I bet. I’ve seen them together and never found a couple more suited for each other.
Jet lagged, I take my leave and head straight for a shower as soon as the elevator opens in my penthouse. Shedding the clothes off in record time, I groan in relief as the hot water relaxes and soothes my tight-strung muscles on its way down.
Spending God knows how long in the shower, I let myself out when my skin starts to prune. Donning my team’s old jersey, which has surely seen better days, and a pair of blue shorts, I walk from my bedroom into my living room.
The penthouse features a floor-to-ceiling window on one side and a monochrome color scheme for the walls, consisting of gray and the darkest shade of purple. The open-kitchen format adjoins the living room with a few bar stools along the mahogany bar counter.
Padding over to the fridge, I grab a bottle of water and gulp it down as I dry my hair with the other hand, using the towel around my neck. I didn’t realize how parched I was until the liquid found its way down my throat.
Placing the bottle on the counter, I lean on it, grabbing the edge with both hands. As I look around the stunning but empty place, the never-ending loud silence taunts me, reminding me of how utterly lonely I am.
Letting my head fall between my shoulders, I wish I had someone to come home to after these long away games. It would’ve made the win much sweeter. A warm embrace to fall into, a set of pouty lips to kiss and savor. A head of red hair to lose myself in.
My eyes snap open when I realize that my dream woman somehow turned into the exact replica of the only woman to hate me as fiercely as Kaeli does. If she ever found out the thoughts that run rampant in my brain, she’d surely rip me a new one, but not before kicking me in my balls.
I can already imagine the fire that would light up in her eyes at the prospect of yelling at me, giving me her snappy attitude as sassy words drip like honey from her perfect lips, only to burn my skin in the end.
When I move to place the bottle back in the fridge, the reflection staring back at me from the surface of the closed door surprises me with a big smile plastered on its face like an idiot.
I swear, this woman will either give me an aneurysm or a set of very painful blue balls.