Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 139259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
“Absolutely not. This is the National Hockey League, Wilde. You don’t just show up when it’s convenient for you. Find your own way to the game, or don’t bother coming at all. You understand me?”
Boy, do I ever.
Before I can reply, the line goes dead.
Shit. That was rough.
Okay. Off to the rink. I need to grab something and head out.
By the time I make it to the arena, the parking lot is eerily quiet. Just as I suspected, no one is here. It’s empty. Actually, there is one car here, most likely owned by someone who works in security.
I park my Mustang in my usual spot and fling open the door, hopping on my hood. The morning light glints off the glossy paint as I pull out my phone and add all the guys who texted me to a group chat, one by one.
And then I name it: All Hail Hudson.
Hudson: Since my time is valuable, this was easier.
Aiden: What is this?
Hudson: It’s a group chat. Duh.
Mason: One called HUDSON IS AN ASS.
Mason changed the name of the chat to “Hudson is an ass.”
Hudson changed the name of the chat to “Saints of Redville.”
Hudson: I thought it was cute. Guess not.
Dane: Why do we have a group chat?
Hudson: It’s easier.
Aiden: For whom?
Dane: Not for me, that’s for sure.
Mason: I like it.
Hudson: I knew you were my favorite.
Dane: Why am I here?
Hudson: Cause we’re friends.
Dane: Are we?
Hudson: Ouch.
Aiden: It’s a legit statement.
Mason: Damn, guys.
Hudson: I’m on my way. There was a complication.
Dane: Again, why are you telling us this?
Hudson: Ouch again. I’m starting to get a complex and think you don’t like me.
Dane: . . .
I pocket my phone and jog into the locker room, my steps echoing in the empty arena. It’s darker than I’m used to. The place feels weird without the usual chaos. Just silence. A small light from the office is the only thing illuminating the space.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think no one is here.
I head straight to my locker, digging for my keys. I need to grab something. While I might not have as many pregame rituals as Aiden, I do always carry a picture of my family with me to every game I go to.
Opening my locker, I grab it from the shelf just as a voice cuts through the quiet.
“Hello?”
I freeze with my hand still in the locker.
I know that voice.
Correction: I hate that voice.
Molly.
Of course, it’s her. The bane of my existence.
Figures she’d be the one here.
Who knows what she’s doing, but she’s always around.
There are soft footsteps as she approaches, pausing just shy of my locker.
“Oh, it’s you.”
I pivot where I’m standing and face her. “Hex.”
“For crying out loud, can you stop calling me this? It’s been a year. Get over it. I know I did.”
Easy for her to say.
That day changed my whole trajectory on this team.
Now, all everyone sees is a player. An idiot. A reckless teammate who can’t be relied on, and then a night like tonight happens, and lo and behold, I prove them right, even though the truth is far from what they all think.
Not that anyone cares to find that shit out.
“Great,” I mutter, gently pocketing the photo. “Just what I needed. What are you even doing here, Hex?”
“I left something here last night.” She shrugs, probably enjoying my misery.
We both stare at each other, silent for a moment.
“Well?” I make a shooing motion. “Don’t you have something better to do? Another life to ruin?”
To say we don’t get along after what happened would be an understatement. In the beginning, she tried to make nice, offering a water bottle after practice or an extra pack of grip tape. But I made it clear what I think of her backstabbing ass.
And from there, it spiraled out of control. We finally tore off the gloves. Now, there’s no conversation we can’t turn into a fight. No stone either of us will leave unturned.
She steps into my path, waiting for me to slam my locker shut before she speaks again. “What’s the excuse this time? Alarm didn’t go off? Stuck in traffic? Did you forget you’re a professional athlete?”
I grit my teeth, resisting the urge to snap back. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I had a family emergency.”
Her smirk fades, replaced by a look of mild surprise. “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.”
“Is everything okay?”
I sigh because she’s being genuine, and it makes me hate her a little less. Emphasis on little. “Just peachy. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”
“You’re still late,” she points out, frowning.
I mock clap around her head, knowing it’ll piss her off. “Wow. A-plus observation, Captain Obvious.”
Our brief truce is gone.
In an instant, the fire returns to her eyes, and she’s back to her snarky self.
Molly leans a hip against a locker, her brows pulled together in mock concern. “I mean, I’m sure the team will totally understand. It’s not like you have a history of this or anything.”