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Chapter 1

Declan

Cars zip past in a blur as I weave between them in heavy traffic, maneuvering my motorcycle with practiced precision, so naturally and fluidly it’s like an extension of my limbs. My hair spills out from under my helmet and whips in the roaring wind, and in the distance, Denver’s beautiful mountain ranges claw over the horizon, their peaks bathed in golden afternoon light.

It’s nothing like what I’m used to in San Diego, but it’s rugged and beautiful in its own way.

A traffic light at an intersection ahead turns yellow, and as the car in front of me brakes, I dart out from behind it and give my bike a commanding blast of gas.

“ Au revoir! ” I bellow with my fist raised and soar through the light before it changes. There’s no way in hell I’m about to be late for my first day of practice with the Denver Aces—not after everything I’ve been through to get here.

On the other side of the light, I ease up on the gas and bark out a laugh as my heart hammers in my chest. Riding my bike is always a rush, but there’s something about the crisp air at this elevation that’s making me feel even giddier than usual. And when I crest a hill and see downtown Denver stretch out in front of me with its arena glinting like a crown jewel at the heart of the city, I feel like I’m flying.

It’s not the first time I’ve been here. I visited a few months ago to sign contracts and meet with the equipment manager to have my gear fitted, but this is the first time I’ll actually be hitting the ice with the rest of the team as an official member of the Aces. And I can’t stop grinning about it.

I finally fucking made it.

The thought makes a smile split my face as I pull into the designated parking area for the practice arena and kill the engine. I shove the kickstand down with my foot and pull my helmet off my head to shake my hair loose, then check it in the mirror. After running a hand through my dark locks to tame them a little, I lock my helmet to the back of the bike and stride purposefully toward the door with my gear bag strapped to my back.

I have a vague idea of where I’m going after my visit, but it’s been a while, so I’ve lost a few of the details. I make a few wrong turns and end up totally lost. It doesn’t help that pretty much every hallway in the place looks exactly the same, all concrete walls and generic office equipment.

“Declan?” A familiar voice echoes down the hall, and I spin and find Coach Dunaway at the opposite end.

“Hey, Coach. I was just looking for you.”

“Yeah, sure. The locker room is this way, Murray,” he says, thrusting a finger in the opposite direction with a teasing smile like he knows I’m full of shit. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to the rest of the guys.” He beams at me as I approach him and claps a hand on my shoulder. “You’re early.”

I cock an eyebrow at him. “I just want to make a good first impression.”

“Trust me, you already made one hell of a good impression in the showcase I saw you in. I can’t believe you didn’t get snapped up by a team right out of college,” he says as he leads me down the hall. I try to keep track of all the turns we’re taking because I know I’ll need to navigate this maze on my own later, but I lose track quickly.

“It just wasn’t the right time, I guess. But I busted my ass to make sure I’d be ready when the right time came.”

Dunaway claps me on the shoulder again, smiling like a proud dad. “I like that kind of work ethic. You’re gonna do well on my team.”

A grin splits my face, and the memory of all the disappointment I’d felt at not getting an NHL contract fresh out of college bubbles to the top of my mind. It’s funny to think about it now that I’m standing here with the coach of a Cup-winning team. I’ll never regret putting my mom and her health first when she needed me, even if it meant my hockey career had to take a back seat. Thinking of my mother now stokes a fire in my chest to succeed.

I don’t ever want her to have to worry about her health or the money to take care of it again, and now that I’ve got this contract with the Aces, she never will. I’m going to be able to take care of her just like she took care of me when my dad split on us.

Dunaway leads me into the locker room, but no one else is there yet. He takes me to a locker with my name on it. “This one is yours. Make yourself at home. I’m sure the rest of the guys will start to trickle in soon.”

“Thanks, Coach.”

When he’s gone, my hand drifts up to the little metal plaque with my name on it. It’s the smallest thing, but there’s something about seeing my name in the Aces locker room like this that makes it feel real in a way it hasn’t until now. But that doesn’t mean I can stop busting my ass. As the rookie on the team, I still have a lot to prove to the rest of the guys.

I sling my bag off my shoulder and start getting geared up for practice, but before I finish, I hear several voices echoing down the hall. Three men I instantly recognize appear in the entrance, laughing and talking amongst themselves, but they freeze when they spot me.

“Well, would you look at that? I guess the rookie beat us to the punch,” a dark-haired man sporting a teasing grin says to the others.

“Don’t start giving the new guy shit already, Theo,” a guy who looks like he’s the oldest of the three chides and crosses his hulking arms over his chest.

“Yeah, Sawyer is right. Your playing is probably enough to scare him off on its own,” the last one adds, making the other two laugh. He strides over to offer me a hand to shake. “Noah, team captain.”

I take his hand and grip it firmly, meeting his gaze steadily. “Declan Murray.”

“Nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Yeah, seriously. Dunaway won’t shut up about you, actually,” Theo says as he walks to his locker.

Sawyer covers his mouth with one hand and points at Theo with the other so he can’t see it. “He’s just jealous,” he mouths, and I let a knowing smirk play across my lips.

“I saw that,” Theo snaps.

“Saw what?” Sawyer asks, playing stupid. Theo scowls at him, but Noah shoots him a look and shakes his head at me.

“You’ll get used to all of Theo’s bullshit eventually.”

“He’s gonna have to. He’s stuck with me now, whether he likes it or not,” Theo says before he tugs his shirt over his head, showing off just how ripped he is. He tosses it into his locker and steps across the room to shake my hand too. “Theo. In all seriousness, though, we’re glad to have you.”

“Declan. And that’s good because you’re stuck with me now, whether you like it or not,” I tell him, my voice carrying a confident edge as he chuckles and drops my hand.

“That’s cute, rookie.”

“See? He’s going to fit right in,” Sawyer says, smiling, and throws an arm around my shoulders. “I’m Sawyer. Looks like you and I are gonna be working together a lot on the defensive side of things. So if you have any questions or anything, I’m your guy.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

Sawyer smiles again and heads for his locker. I go back to getting geared up, but I can’t stop thinking about how funny this whole interaction has been. Of course, I already know who all three of them are. I’ve been living and breathing hockey for the last several years, and the Aces just won the Cup, so I’ve been following their every move.

If I was one of them, I’d be strutting around here like I was hot shit—and I probably wouldn’t have been so warm to a rookie—but they all seem way more grounded than I would’ve guessed. They’re just normal guys who happen to be NHL champions.

The rest of the team streams in one by one over the next few minutes, and when everyone’s finished introducing themselves to me and getting ready, we hit the ice together. I’m last in line, but that’s probably a good thing because I’m off in space, drinking in all the details of the arena and trying to get myself to believe this is really happening, that I’m really here and part of the team now.

The weight of my Aces jersey against my shoulders and the sight of my number—43—proves it, but I’ve been working so hard toward this moment that standing on the ice in a line with the rest of the team in their home arena feels surreal. My nerves are starting to set in, because it’s showtime, and the rest of the guys are gonna be watching and scrutinizing everything I do.

Dunaway waits for us at the center of the ice, his arms crossed over his chest, so we circle around him.

He looks at each of us in turn, nodding approvingly, then clears his throat. “Alright, listen up. I know we’re riding high after a Cup win last season,” he starts, and whoops from some of the guys cut him off until he glares at them. “But that doesn’t mean we can get cocky. The whole league is going to be gunning for us now, so we need to go into this season thinking of ourselves as the underdogs. We’ve gotta be just as scrappy and hungry for it this time as we were before to prove that we deserve to win two Cups in a row.”

“Hell yeah,” Theo says, and I join the guys clattering their sticks against the ice to show their support.

“Glad we’re on the same page. Now let’s get that Aces magic going,” Dunaway says and holds his hand out in front of him. We all pile our hands on top of his. “One, two, three,” Dunaway counts down.

“AC-ES!” we chant together and throw our hands up in the air as Dunaway blasts on his whistle to officially start training. I’m not sure what their usual training regimen is, so I hold back for a beat, observing until I realize that the whole team is jetting off for a few warmup laps around the ice.

I take a lazy circle around the arena the first time around but notice the guys ahead of me are picking up their pace for the second one, so I follow suit. I dig my blades in deeper, unleashing my speed, and end up soaring past several of them. On the third lap, Dunaway blasts his whistle again, and the guys start to split off toward the benches, gearing up for a full-ice scrimmage. I skate over to grab a drink and tap gloves with a few of the guys before Dunaway calls out the lineups.

“Blue jerseys take the home bench. Whites, away. Let’s get after it,” he barks. I follow the rest of the defensemen in white over to the far side. Theo is already tossing chirps at the guys on the other bench, and I try to focus on soaking it all in without looking like a total rookie.

I get thrown out there with Reese on right wing, Noah taking center, and another D-man named Collins who gives me a nod and nothing else. The whistle blows, and we’re off.

Right away, the pace is fast. No one is holding back, and it’s clear Dunaway wants to see who can hang when the drills are over and the game gets real. I stay tight to my zone, keep my gaps clean, and call out switches when the opposing team dumps it deep. When the puck squirts loose from the boards, I jump on it and make a clean breakout pass to Noah, who’s already flying up the right side.

The play shifts fast, and before long, we’re back in our zone and facing pressure. A forward cuts through the high slot and winds up, but I close in, get my stick in the lane, and deflect the shot up into the netting. The goalie taps his stick against the post in thanks. I just nod and get back in position.

A few shifts later, I intercept a pass at the blue line and move the puck up ice with a quick dish to Noah. He passes it to Maxim Federov, who drops it back, and I rip a shot from the point. It’s low and through traffic—not a pretty goal, but it finds an opening and slides through the five-hole. The bench erupts, and Theo hoots from the other end like I’ve just stolen his lunch money.

“Holy shit, nice finish!” Noah calls from somewhere behind me, and when I loop around and glance over my shoulder, I find him grinning at me like we’ve been teammates for years. Dunaway gives me a quick nod, and even Theo is giving me an impressed once-over as I bite back a beaming smile.

It feels fucking amazing to be here with the ice-chilled air whipping through my hair, my heart pumping in my chest, and these actual hockey champions seeing what I’ve got. It makes me feel alive. Like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to have been all along. Like everything I had to do to get here was worth it.

The rest of practice whips by, and while it’s obvious most of the other guys are starting to wear down, I could keep going for at least another couple hours.

“What’s the matter? Your joints hurting you?” I taunt with a challenging smirk as we start to pile off the ice.

“Oh, we’re good, we just don’t want to keep you out past your bedtime, rookie,” Theo fires back with a smirk, eliciting a laugh from the others.

Sawyer claps me on the shoulder and smiles, and maybe it’s too early since I literally just met them all today, but I feel like I’m already fitting in with everyone. If they didn’t like me, they wouldn’t be bantering around like this with me. Hockey players are a lot of things, but subtle isn’t one of them. If there’s a problem, they’ll let you know.

We hit the showers to get cleaned up, and I’m getting dressed when Dunaway files in with the assistant coaches.

“Alright, listen up!” he shouts over the commotion, and everyone snaps to attention. “I know I already gave you a little motivational speech, but I want to make sure it sinks in. So here’s the plan,” he starts, but a knock on the locker room door behind him interrupts him.

He turns as the door cracks open and a young woman with a full head of dark hair peeks inside, probably to make sure everyone’s decent first. But Dunaway’s blocking most of the view so I can’t see anything other than the top of her head. He talks to her in hushed tones for a few seconds, then turns back to the room.

“Sorry for the interruption. This is my daughter, Hannah, for anyone who doesn’t already know,” he says and ushers her into the room with a hand on her lower back. “Hannah, you know most of the team, but this is our new rookie, Declan Murray.”

Smiling, the woman steps forward and waves uncomfortably, and my heart surges into my throat as I get a good look at her.

Those unmistakable heterochromatic eyes—one blue and the other green—lock with mine, and a jolt of recognition courses through me. This is the woman I had the most amazing night of my life with at a kink club six months ago.

And she’s also my new coach’s daughter.