Page 2

Chapter Two

I wouldn’t call myself an asshole just because I like things a certain way, enjoy my privacy, and would rather drop dead than engage with some meaningless interviewer who wants to ask about my favorite color, what makes me cry, and—most importantly—what I look for in a woman.

The tabloids, though? They have no issue using that particular label generously whenever my name shows up in some vapid article. Which, unfortunately, is often. Apparently, girls love assholes because—as my teammates so lovingly showed me—I was ranked the number one most, uh, fuckable NHL player across the board.

It was humiliating—and honestly a little dehumanizing. But according to everyone around me, it’s the life I signed up for. As if playing the game I’ve loved since I was a kid entitles the world to treat me like some kind of public trophy.

“Look, another one.” Brody, our goalie, dangled a magazine in front of my face. It had my face blown up and edited to an almost unrecognizable level.

I groaned, skimming the article, spotting a few rumors, one or two facts, and then a handful of blatant lies before I turned my attention back to the photoshopped picture.

“Why the fuck did they give me rosy cheeks?” I scowled, crumpling the magazine and tossing it across the room. “It’s just a bunch of bullshit, anyway. I didn’t talk to any reporters.”

“ You didn’t.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t mean someone else didn’t.”

“Yeah, well, this shit is getting old,” I muttered, running a hand through my sweat-drenched hair. “You’d think they’d find something better to write about by now.”

“But what could be better than the star player of the Harbor Wolves, Dreamy Mr. Brynn himself?” Brody snickered, moving around the locker room with ease.

“You would think that the number of times they refer to me as an asshole would knock me down a few spots on their—what the fuck do they call it—their sexy scale?” I said, unlacing my skates.

“Nah, man,” Brody responded, shrugging off his jersey. “Girls love that stuff. The bigger the dickhead, the better.”

I snorted. “And you know this how?”

“Because I have sisters,” he rolled his eyes in explanation. “Trust me, years of tears, tantrums, and drama-filled stories have taught me a lot about how the other side lives and operates.”

“Right,” I said, nodding along sarcastically.

“Trust me, if I had even fifteen percent of the whole dismissive, asshole vibe you’ve got going on, I’d have a line of puck bunnies out the door just like you. It’s the whole unattainable thing. Drives them crazy.”

“Unattainable?” I raised an eyebrow.

“My sister Tara explained it to me. Girls go for the guys who are hard to get. It’s like—well, I guess it’s like winning the Stanley Cup after a season that started off really shitty for us, right? It seems so out of reach, so totally unattainable at that point—so we work our asses off to get there, and once we do, it’s all the more satisfying than if the whole thing had just been easy. You follow?”

It made sense, all right. He’d just put into words exactly what pissed me off so much about the whole thing. I was a person, for fucks sake—not some prize to be won. That’s why I hadn’t bothered with dating since I’d gotten into the NHL. It wasn’t worth it. I didn’t have the patience to deal with the endless stream of people who thought I existed solely for public consumption.

But right as I was about to unleash years’ worth of media hatred on one of my best friends, someone equally important to me walked into the room.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked, watching as Maggie strode into the locker room as if she owned the place.

“Hello to you, too.” She frowned, settling a hand on her hip.

A heavy clunk sounded in the background, and I turned to see Brody reaching for the gear he’d fumbled all over the ground. My sister raised her brows at him before turning her attention back to me.

“I’m here to see you,” she said, batting her eyes in a way that was Maggie-code for I need something.

“I’m exhausted, Mags,” I said, standing to head to my locker.

Like a shadow, she followed me. “Too exhausted for me? Your sweet, baby sister who loves you so much?”

“Yes,” I said, shoveling stuff into my bag. “Since apparently whatever this is warranted an in-person visit, I can confidently say I am too exhausted to deal with it right now.”

“Lose the attitude, ,” Maggie said, hand shooting out to smack the side of my head. “You’re no fun to be around anymore.”

Brody coughed in the background, a failed attempt to cover the laugh that had me glaring in his direction.

Between the media, the pressure of the game, and the incessant needs of everyone who wanted something from me, how the hell was I supposed to be fun to be around?

I exhaled a sigh, shutting the locker door harder than necessary. “What is it, Mags? Do you need money?”

“Okay, jackass,” Maggie said. “Never mind. You’ve clearly lost all sight of how to be a semi-decent guy. Go about your day.” She scowled and turned to leave.

“Wait,” I called after her, blowing out a breath. “Mags. Stop. I’m sorry.”

She turned, raising a skeptical brow. “Are you?”

“Yes,” I said, meaning it. She didn’t deserve to be talked to like that just because I had a crap day. “What can I do for you?”

“Well,” Maggie started with a nervous smile, “you know my friend Cassie?”

“No?”

“Yes, you do. Remember? You always say her boyfriend sounds like a tool?”

“Oh, her? ” I asked. “The girl whose boyfriend left her at the concert, and she had to Uber back from, like, four hours away?”

I knew who Maggie was talking about, all right. I’d never met the girl, but my sister had told me stories. Mostly ones revolving around the recurring theme of the boyfriend being an asshole.

I’d always been slightly amused and halfway convinced Maggie was exaggerating, if not flat-out, making the stories up. Because really, who could be that big of a dick? I always asked why the girl didn’t just get rid of the guy, but Maggie would shrug and just say her friend couldn’t see it.

“Yes, exactly.” Maggie nodded. “And you were right. The guy is a major tool. So, I’m sure it won’t surprise you to hear that he dumped her over the phone while she was at work. Oh, and then texted suggesting she find somewhere else to stay.”

“Oh, that blows.”

Brody winced in the background, apparently eavesdropping on our conversation.

“Right?” She nodded along with him, clearly pleased by the solidarity.

“Like I said.” Brody looked at me smugly. “Girls love dickheads.”

“What?” Maggie’s face contorted in confusion.

“Nothing,” he said, face flaming. “Forget I said anything.”

“Mags, are you seriously telling me you came all the way to the rink just to tell me a story about your friend’s shitty boyfriend?” I cut into their conversation, trying to figure out the point of this surprise visit.

“Ex-boyfriend.” She frowned. “Weren’t you listening?”

“Yes, but I don’t understand what the point is?”

“Well, you just have so much space in your condo…” Her voice trailed off. “A whole spare room and everything.”

Realization washed over me. “What the fuck, Mags? No.”

Her face fell, “Don’t say that, . She really needs some help.”

“Well, I’m sure she can go literally anywhere else in the world for help. Doesn’t she have family?”

“Not really,” Maggie said. “I mean, she has her mom, but it’s not really an option to stay with her.”

“A hotel, then!”

“! Not everyone is as rich as you. Do you have any idea how expensive it would be to stay long-term in a hotel?”

“Do you have any idea how annoying it would be to have some random girl living in my house long term?” I enunciate each word to try and get the point across. “Besides, she’d probably spend her time prying around, trying to find some secret of mine to sell to the media.”

“She’s not like that!” Maggie scoffed, insulted on behalf of her friend. “She doesn’t even know who you are. She’s not into sports, like at all.”

I grunted.

“Really! I’ve invited her to come to your games with me loads of times, but she’s never wanted to.”

“Still, she doesn’t have to be a hockey fan to know she could make good money by running to the press with news about an NHL player.”

“Are you serious, ? Don’t you trust me at all?” She looked wounded.

“I trust you,” I confirmed, “but not some random girl I’ve never met. I mean, come on, Mags. This is a lot to ask.”

“I know it is, .” She sighed. “But it’s not for long. One month. Two tops. She just needs a little time to find her footing. Just a bit of breathing room. I’m sure you, of all people, can understand that.”

I inhaled, taking her words into consideration. “And what about you? Why isn’t she staying at your place?”

“Because Mom’s already staying with me, remember?” She referenced a detail I apparently was supposed to have known. “And there’s barely space for the two of us, never mind adding Cassie to the mix.”

Maggie’s apartment was outrageously small. I had to give her that.

“Unless you’d rather have Cassie move in with me and Mom stay with you,” she suggested with a pointed look.

“No thanks.” I visibly shuddered.

Our mom was… fine, as far as they go. Overbearing but kind. Not to mention the way she got way too involved in my personal life whenever the smallest window of opportunity opened for her.

Besides, there was something extremely unappealing about being a twenty-six-year-old man who had his mother living with him. Even if it was just for a few months.

“I’ll pass on that. Why can’t you just stay with me and let Cassie crash at your place?”

Maggie let out the most dramatic huff before exclaiming, “She’s heartbroken! I’m not going to make Cassie stay with our mom while she’s trying to get over a breakup.”

“So, you’d rather have her be heartbroken at my house?”

“You’ll give her plenty of space. And you’re, like, never there. It would help her out a ton. It’s not just the breakup. She has a lot going on, and trying to immediately find a place to live would be too much right now.”

“Mags.” I groaned. “I really don’t want to do this.”

My place was the only privacy I ever got. It was my safe harbor. The only place I knew I wasn’t being watched, commented on, or criticized. Having some random girl there would take all that away.

“Please, .” Her green eyes widened in a silent plea. “It’s really important. And I swear to you, it’s not for long.”

I thought about it, considering every aspect. Truth was, I’d been a shitty brother to Maggie for the last few years. And for some reason, she still cared about me, which said a lot about the type of person she was. If there was one small thing I could do for her, maybe it would show her that the old me was still in there somewhere. The brother who had always been there for her, who was able to pick up the pieces of whatever mess she’d found herself in. The brother she had before the NHL and the media, and the fans drained the life out of his soul.

“Fine,” I said shortly, causing an ungodly-sized grin to take residence on the lower half of Maggie’s face. “But here are the conditions. She starts looking for a place immediately. ”

“Of course.” Maggie bobbed her head in agreement.

“I mean it. I don’t want her to think she can sit back and take her time looking for her dream home or whatever. She needs to get on top of it because I am going to be enforcing that one-month rule.”

“One month. Great. Two tops.”

“ One month, Maggie. I mean it.”

“Fine, whatever.” She waved my concerns away. “I’ll help her look myself. But I’m sure that’ll give us plenty of time to find her somewhere safe and cheap to live.”

“And you better give her the rundown. I like my space. I like my privacy. Absolutely no pictures in the house. No telling people my address. Really, I’d like to keep my interactions with her to a bare minimum.”

Maggie rolled her eyes dramatically. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. You know, I really think you actually might get along with her. You know, if you take your head out of your ass, that is.”

I put Maggie in a light chokehold, rubbing the top of her head the way I had when I was just a regular big brother who liked to torment his little sister for the fun of it.

“Okay, okay.” She laughed, wriggling in my grasp. “Get off of me, you meathead.”

I let her go, feeling the foreign sensation of a smile on my face. God, it’d been so long since I’d done something as simple as laugh.

“Really, ,” Maggie said, fixing me with a sincere look as she leaned on her tiptoes to kiss my cheek, scraggly and rough from a few days of not shaving. “Thank you so much. I knew I could count on my big brother.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I shrugged off the thanks. “Just give me a heads up of when she’s planning on coming.”

“Oh, yeah.” Maggie bit her lip guiltily. “About that… she might already be there.”

“Jesus, Maggie!” I swore under my breath.

“Sorry!” She held her hands up in surrender. “I just knew you’d say yes, and she really didn’t have anywhere to go tonight, so I sort of let her in?”

“You’re really something, you know that?” I said through gritted teeth.

“Love you.” She grinned. “Be nice to Cassie, okay? Don’t go around muttering your insensitive comments around her, alright?”

“I won’t be muttering any comments around her. Remember? You said she’d give me space.”

“Right, she will. And I’m sure she’ll be sound asleep by the time you get home. Don’t worry about anything.”

Before I could say another word of protest, my sister fluttered out the door and left me with her latest mess on my hands. And this was one that wouldn’t be as easy to clean up as credit card debt or a flat tire.

I let out an exhale containing more than just the stress of the day.

Just when I thought my bad mood couldn’t possibly get worse, Brody’s voice interjected the whirlwind of negativity brewing inside my head.

“You never told me you had a hot sister.”