Chapter 1
Chapter One
Jason
“What the hell are you doing with that box?”
Standing in my new kitchen, Bomb Site Central, I held up two bottles of Sam Adams Summer ale and gestured toward my guest. Theo Kershaw—as in the Theo Kershaw, captain of the Chicago Rebels, four-time Cup winner, and a legend in his own time—had just picked up a box, without even bending his knees, and was walking toward the living room.
“It’s marked ‘bedroom,’” he said as if that was a perfectly acceptable response.
The movers had left it in the wrong room, and now Theo wanted to drag it upstairs because he was a fixer and couldn’t leave well enough alone.
“Put it down, dickhead. Come sit in the backyard and drink a beer.”
“But it’ll only take a sec—”
“T, drop it!”
Chuckling at my outburst, he did as he was told, rubbed his back, and headed my way.
The last thing I needed was to be responsible for an injury just as the guy was contemplating a one-year extension with the Rebels.
An extension I hoped he would take so we could play together on the same team for the first time in our pro-hockey careers.
I hadn’t lived in Chicago since college except for a few weeks each summer when I usually helped Theo with the Rebels Youth Hockey Camp.
My rookie years were with LA, but the last ten had been with Boston.
Now I was back, feeling like this was where I belonged. Playing with the Chicago Rebels, my hometown team, and potentially with my favorite player.
My brother.
Finding out, when I was twelve, that I was related to Theo Kershaw had been amazing.
Even more so was learning that he wanted a relationship with me.
My parents divorced when I was thirteen, and Theo was there for me at the worst time of my life.
Because it wasn’t just the hurt of my parents’ split.
It was learning who my father really was.
Nick Isner had abandoned Theo’s mom with baby T cooking away in the oven and skipped off to college, leaving her and his kid to be raised without his support.
Even when Theo showed up at Dad’s office at eighteen, with a scholarship to Vermont in hand, not looking for anything other than acknowledgment, Dad didn’t want to know.
Later, when Theo and I connected, he had tried to cover for Nick and blame his previous bad behavior on our dad’s youth.
But I always suspected something was wrong.
Knowing how my own father had treated his eldest son had broken my heart.
These days I was closer to Theo than I was to my dad.
The hockey connection, but more than that.
He was my role model in all things, and I was thrilled to finally be living in the same city together as adults.
We headed out to the yard, still relatively pristine because I hadn’t had a chance to fuck it up yet.
The house was prime real estate on Chicago’s North Shore, about ten minutes from Rebels HQ in Riverbrook, twenty miles or so from downtown Chicago.
I wasn’t quite on the shores of Lake Michigan, but I could see a sliver of gray blue between a couple of the swankier houses on the lakefront, and that was good enough for me.
Theo took a seat in one of the Adirondack chairs, and I took the other, watching for any signs he might have injured himself.
“I’m fine, dude.”
I passed him the bottle, and we clinked and sipped. Behind me, a shitload of work awaited, but right now, nothing was pressing and all was good. The summer sky was clear except for a couple of fluffy-as-fuck clouds that made the blue look bluer. Clouds for good.
“That thing safe?” Theo pointed his bottle at the red metal frame several feet away.
“Want to test it?”
“Hell yeah!” He made to get up as I shook my head.
“Your ass wouldn’t fit in those seats.” Neither would mine. The trials of a hockey player.
Settled back down in the chair, he said, “Probably should yank it before Tilly spots it.”
Tilly was Theo’s youngest, almost five years old. Rather than remove it, I’d get it assessed for safety because I liked the idea of it sitting there, waiting for a kid to use it. That swing set had spoken to me as my realtor gave me the virtual tour on FaceTime.
“Let me think on it.”
Theo gave me a funny look. “You okay?”
“Everly’s hooked up with Ryan Coughlan.”
“Jesus, that was quick.”
Everly was my ex as of two months ago. We’d been together a little over six months, and a while back I had started thinking we should move to the next phase.
We were hanging with my Cougars teammate, Dean Foster, and his wife, Molly, at a cookout.
They’d just had a baby, a gorgeous little girl called Jenna, and I was getting a bit broody about it.
I loved holding her and feeling that warm little body close to mine, her tiny sighs and gurgles, and her soft, peachy skin against my neck.
“That’ll be you next,” Dean had said.
Molly laughed and nudged Everly. “You two would have stunning kids.”
“Not sure we’re going there,” Everly said, and quickly transitioned into a request for Molly’s artichoke and spinach dip recipe.
Later I’d asked what she meant by it.
“Well, we’re not serious, are we? The sex is phenomenal, and we have a great time, but kids? I don’t see it.”
“At all? Or just with me?”
“Oh, Jason, you’re a hoot!”
A hoot. Not that it was the first time I’d heard that or something that put me in a certain box as “unserious.” Dumb jock. Brainless athlete. Too many pucks to the head. Usually, my four million a year and I were fine with that.
Everly had tried to smooth it over, telling me that she wasn’t ready, but there was no shining up that turd.
I was thirty-six years old and hankering to start a family.
Everly was there, right place, right time, so why not?
But she didn’t feel the same way. Now she was with Ryan Coughlan, a player with the LA Quake, and rumor had it—if you believed that Hot Goss rag—they were as loved up as could be.
I cast a glance at the swing set. Part of me hoped that maybe I still had a shot at a family of my own.
Why else would I tell the realtor to offer fifty grand above the asking price?
I could just as easily have installed one of those death traps myself anywhere.
Yet, as soon as I saw it, I took it as a sign.
Hockey players were superstitious like that.
Theo studied his beer bottle’s label, then looked up. “You didn’t even tell her you were planning this move back home.”
True. “Maybe deep down I sensed it wasn’t meant to be.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll have women climbing you like a tree before you know it. You excited to start the season?”
“It’s barely the middle of July.”
He raised an eyebrow of your point?
“Yeah, can’t wait,” I said with a grin, glad to be off the topic of Everly.
Most guys loved the off-season, especially when they had families to spend it with.
Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed the break, the time to heal and recharge, but I was a Fall guy.
As soon as the weather cooled and the leaves started to change, I was in my element because hockey season was here.
Fifteen years gone, and I had yet to grab the brass ring. But every October, I started afresh with the hockey player’s mantra: Maybe this year. I was itching to get in there and prove my mettle.
I took another sip. “You any closer to making a decision?”
Everyone wanted to know: would the great Theo Kershaw grace us with one more year? He had hoped to go out on a high last season, but they’d lost the Finals in a heartbreaker in Game 7. He had played one season with his eldest, Hatch, and I suspected he might be ready to call time.
“I hate the idea of missing our shot, J.”
“But you’re tired.”
He expelled a weary sigh. “I am. I haven’t told anyone yet, not even Elle, and there’s always a chance I’ll have a change of heart. But I’m ninety-five percent certain I won’t be on the roster next season.”
My heart heaved. We had faced off against each other on opposing teams, had even skated together during two All-Star games.
Playing on the same side when it counted would have been awesome, but I couldn’t begrudge him this decision.
He wanted to spend more time with his wife, watch Tilly grow up, and enjoy his grandmother’s twilight years (not that Aurora was going anywhere. That dame would outlast us all).
“Would have loved to do this with you, brother. But I’ll take all the advice you can give me.”
Theo snorted. “Oh yeah? You stopped wanting my advice the minute you hit NCAA.”
“Yeah, but now you’re an elder statesman. Old as fuck and twice as wise.”
Theo sputtered a mouthful of beer. “You little shit.”
My grin did its best to paper over the crack in my heart. The years were getting away from us and I wondered if all those things I wanted were still within reach.
Or if I deserved them at all.