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Chapter One

GREYSON

My skates hit the ice, and just like always, all thoughts that aren’t about what’s happening in the rink leave my mind.

It’s our last game of the preseason and if nothing else, we’re keeping the crowd on the edge of their seats. Ignoring the fact that we’re already two minutes into overtime, I hone in on Dominik, skating in sync with him as we cross the blue line into the opposing team’s zone. Without missing a beat, he maneuvers around the Philadelphia Fireflies player and passes the puck to my waiting stick. Everything around me seems to slow as I push forward. The other team’s defense turns their focus on me and I barely take a quick glance to my right to see if Reid is open to take the puck before making the pass.

With everyone’s attention shifting to follow the move, I slide around the player in front of me and lock in on an opening in the net. Reid passes the puck around the backside of the net where Carter is waiting. He catches my eye and I barely get a chance to nod before he’s passing it back to me. It’s second nature to dodge the Fireflies’ defensemen and shoot the puck toward the net.

For the briefest of seconds, everyone in the arena seems to hold their breaths as the goalie tries to slide and block the shot, only to miss. The puck soars into the open slot above his shoulder. As the buzzer blares and cheers echo around us, I brace myself for what’s next just seconds before my team slams into me.

Our team captain, Landon, crashes into me head-on with a wide grin as the announcers declare our win for the final pre-season game. While I force a half-smirk onto my face, my team piles around with smiles and celebrates the win. Just like I do every victory, I wait for some of their happiness to rub off on me. Hoping that, just once, I could laugh and feel a fraction of what they do.

Instead, everything inside me remains numb.

Even almost five years later, the only time thoughts of the night everything changed aren’t lingering is when I’m practicing or playing hockey. But once the play or moment is done, everything comes rushing back. Still, after all this time, I’ve never been able to pinpoint the exact moment it happened. The moment that all my happiness and joy drained from my soul.

Was it the second that car hit mine? Or maybe it was those few blurry moments of watching the dark red slide down the side of Stella’s pale face before everything went dark. More likely than anything, it was probably when I heard she left. No phone call, no note, nothing. She was gone without a word, yet somehow managed to take such a huge piece of me with her.

Not wanting to bring anyone’s mood down, I shrug out from under the tangle of arms and glide toward the bench. Keeping my head down, I ignore the gaggle of women pounding on the acrylic glass and make my way toward the locker room. While there are plenty of women who scream, beg, and weasel their way in for my attention, there hasn’t been a single one to even pique my interest.

Just another thing Stella took with her.

I slam down on the bench in front of my locker, grateful that this game was a home one, and start removing my gear as the team slowly follows after me.

“First round’s on me!” Landon calls out, patting my shoulder as he slips by me. I resist the urge to shrug him off and pass on celebrating. My team has some decent guys on it with the ones on my line being the most tolerable. None of them push me to let them in or try to get me to cheer up. No one ever tries to force me to go out with them. They simply let me know the offer is always there.

At this point, all of them know that my presence is a sign that I appreciate them.

Dominik, one of our newer players who transferred here last season, drops onto the bench beside me.

“Nice final shot,” he says simply, thankfully keeping his hands to himself and unstrapping his skates.

I grunt in acknowledgment, not worried in the slightest that he’ll get offended.

Dom fit into this team quicker than anyone had in a while. He has a calmness to him that helps him fit into any situation. Somehow the guy manages to go from matching the high, eccentric energy of our goalie, Dean, to simply existing beside me without missing a beat.

Guilt churns in my stomach and I spare a quick peek at our captain. I know Landon has been trying to get me to open up to him for years, yet somehow the newbie came along and did so without me noticing.

Not that I’ve poured my heart and soul out to the guy, but he does manage to get me to contribute to conversations before I can think it through.

“You coming to the bar?” Dom asks while we pack up our bags after showering. Just as I’m about to answer, my name is called from across the locker room.

Glancing over my shoulder, I find our media manager, Lucy, waiting by the doorway.

“Can I borrow you for a moment?”

I nod, hoisting my bag over my shoulder.

“Just meet me in my office once you’re finished,” Lucy says before hastily leaving. When she started, she said she would do everything she can to respect our individual preferences on social media. That means only coming into the locker room when needed or after giving everyone a heads-up that she’ll be making content in here. I might actually be the only one on the team who appreciates that, but still.

I spare a quick glance over my shoulder at Dominik. “I’ll meet you guys there for a drink but probably won’t stay long.”

“Sounds good.”

I cross the locker room and head toward Lucy’s office, trying to rack my brain for what she could need from me. She’s new to the team this season, but outside of introductions on her first day, I haven’t spoken to her since. I’m not on social media and our previous media manager had made sure my close-up shots were all up to date before she transferred teams. Plus, it’s well known by everyone in management that I want no part in making any of those trendy videos Dean and Landon always do.

Knocking on her door, I maintain a blank expression when she calls out for me to come in. My eyebrows rise in surprise when I see Kathy from human resources already sitting in one of the two chairs across from Lucy’s desk. The shocking difference between the two of them is almost comical, even to me.

Where Kathy is the definition of professional, with her gray suits and perfectly slicked back bun, Lucy is all eccentric colors and explosion of light.

I stand in the doorway, waiting for one of them to speak.

Lucy straightens her bright, patterned glasses while glancing awkwardly between me and Kathy before motioning to the free chair.

“Why don’t you have a seat?”

Dropping my bag behind the chair, I do as she suggested. Once seated, I simply sit back and look between the two of them. If they’re hoping I’ll know what this is about and start the conversation, they’ve got another thing coming for them. They called me in here, so they can tell me the reason for that without me making small talk or trying to guess.

“Right,” Lucy mumbles and clears her throat before putting her full attention on me. “There have been a couple articles circling about you lately.”

She pauses, looking at me as if she expects me to say something. When I don’t, her appeasing smile falls slightly. She spares a quick glance at Kathy before focusing back on me.

“Can I be frank with you?” Lucy asks.

From the corner of my eye, I see Kathy open her mouth and decide to finally speak up.

“I’d prefer it if you were.”

Lucy nods, closing the manila folder that I didn’t notice in front of her before she leans back in her chair and stares at me.

“The internet is basically calling you an asshole.”

“Miss Clarke!” Kathy exclaims, stuttering to try to backtrack.

Holding Lucy’s impassive gaze, I cut off Kathy’s ramblings about professionalism.

“No one is going to hurt my feelings by swearing around me.” I pause, trying to figure out what this conversation has to do with both HR and media relations. Grinding my teeth, I try to keep the bite out of my words. “What does the internet’s opinion have to do with me? I’m doing my job.”

“Yes. Quite well, actually. You’re one of the best forwards in the rankings and the season hasn’t even started.” Lucy nods, drawing in a deep breath. “However, this image that is being painted of you is now starting to reflect poorly on the team. There are accusations being made that you’re rude to your teammates, that you start fights for no reason, and it’s leading to question if the Bobcats management is fine with bad behavior simply because you play so well.”

My brows scrunch together as I shake my head. “Except I’ve never once gotten in a fight with any of my teammates and I’m the least rough on the ice out of everyone.”

Lucy shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. You blow off your fans. You don’t attend team events unless they’re mandatory. The few times you are spotted in public, it’s at a bar and refuse to talk to anyone who isn’t a Bobcat player.”

I raise a brow. “So, because I’m not a people person, everyone automatically assumes I’m an asshole who causes issues with my team?”

“Basically.”

Scrubbing a hand down my face, I suck in a deep breath. It’s one thing if people are making assumptions about me. But even I know that if things keep blowing out of proportion and are left unchecked, it will impact the whole team.

“Okay, so what does this mean?”

“That you need to partake in some team events, not just outings to the bar with your line. Maybe find a friend or partner to tag along and soften your image.”

There’s no hiding my scowl. “Soften my image?”

Lucy nods, not seeming to find any issue in what she just said. “Yup. Right now, you’re being painted as this rude, grumpy, intense guy. Best way to lighten that is to show yourself with people not on the team. A sibling, a friend…a partner.”

“I don’t—” I cut myself off, not wanting to snap at her for bringing up the sore topic of relationships. I school my features before I continue. “I’m an only child and my teammates are my friends.”

That doesn’t deter Lucy. “Well, I’m sure some of them have some friends they can share for events. Bottom line is, we need you to appear friendly. Be nice to fans if they approach you, within reason, of course. Smile in pictures they want to take.” She lifts the folder from earlier and hands it to me. “I understand not being a people person. So as a compromise, here’s a list of events the team needs to participate in this season. Pick at least six to attend for photo ops. With your permission, we are going to start a personal social media account for you. You’re more than welcome to run it yourself, or I am happy to do it for you with pictures from these events.”

I shake my head.

“I don’t see how being on an app and attending these things will help.”

“A picture is worth a thousand words. And sometimes showing a genuine smile is worth even more.”

The bar is the last place I want to be right now. Especially after Lucy’s comment about how I’m only seen here. One of the reasons we come to this bar so much is because it’s literally right beside the building most of us live in. Hell, the team is the one who puts us up in these condos, so really, it’s on them.

If it weren’t for the fact that Dean was outside finishing up a call, I probably would have gotten away with not joining them. But the moment he saw me, he yanked open the door and called out for someone to get me a beer for my winning shot.

At least he didn’t try to hug me.

“You look like you need this,” Dom says, setting a full glass of beer down in front of me.

“You have no idea,” I grumble before chugging half the drink in an attempt to ease the frustration bubbling just below the surface.

Dominik doesn’t say anything, simply choosing to plop down into the open seat beside me. We both sit in silence, watching our teammates scatter throughout the bar as the night crowd starts to grow.

My skin prickles while I take in all the newcomers with a different light. I can’t help but wonder who’s watching in hopes of catching me being an asshole in person so they can continue spreading lies.

Although is that what they are? Maybe those articles are just saying what I’ve been avoiding to acknowledge. I have shut myself off to an almost unrecognizable degree. Secluded myself to the point of only talking to my parents or my team. If I were to actually take a step back and look at it from an outside perspective, it’s not hard to see where the media is drawing their conclusions from.

The beer turns sour in my stomach and I clear my throat.

“I’m gonna call it a night,” I tell Dom, pushing my half-drunk beer away before standing.

“I’ll head out with you. I was hoping to catch Lilly before she went to bed,” Dom offers and I bite back my annoyance at having to wait. It’s only a matter of seconds, but when you’re already peopled out, moving at someone else’s pace is irritating.

After saying quick goodbyes to the guys closest to us, I follow Dominik and we make the short walk to our condos.

“So what did Lucy want?” Dominik asks, pulling open the building door and motioning for me to go in.

I roll my eyes, crossing the lobby toward the elevators. “To tell me I’m an asshole.”

“Wait, what?” Dominik faces me, his expression twisted with shock and disgust.

“She summarized some articles that were published over the summer about me.” I shrug, feeling slightly bad that I made her sound like a jerk. “She didn’t personally call me one.”

“Oh, good.” Dom sighs, stepping onto the elevator and hitting our floor buttons. “You didn’t get in trouble for that, right? Like that’s just what reporters and bloggers are making up out of nothing.”

“No, I mean, maybe. It does feel like I’m being tortured for their opinions.” I groan, staring blankly at the rising numbers.

“What do you mean?” he questions, turning to me with crossed arms.

“I have to find someone to ‘soften my image’ and have them come to some events with me.”

“Lucy told you to find a girlfriend? Is she even allowed to do that?” The disbelief in his tone rattles through the small space and I cringe.

“Either that or to borrow a friend from one of you guys.” The elevator finally dings at my floor and I nod in his direction. “I’ll see you at the gym in the morning.”

I don’t stick around for his response, beelining down the hall toward my place.

“Wait, Grey,” Dominik calls out just as I’m almost to my door. I close my eyes, forcing in a deep breath, and turn to face him. He’s closer than I expected and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he looks uncomfortable. Something he hasn’t been since his first day on the team.

“What’s up?” I ask, attempting to lighten the mood, only for it to come out rumbly.

Dom scratches at the back of his neck and looks everywhere but at me.

“My friend Garrett, you met him last year at the beach. He just expanded his company.”

“Okay…” I raise a brow, not hiding my annoyance and confusion as to why this is being brought up now.

“One of the…services is about to enter the testing phase, and he mentioned needing to find volunteers.” He pulls out his wallet, plucks out a light pink business card, and hands it to me.

The words SweetHeart Assistance are printed in curly cursive letters on one side and contact information on the other. I’m about to awkwardly thank him and end this weird conversation when something he said finally processes.

“Wait, services? Are you telling me to hire a…” I trail off, not wanting to voice the fact that I think he’s telling me to hire a sex worker. I shake my head, shoving the card back in his direction. “I’m not into that kind of thing.”

Dominik’s eyes widen and he backs away with his hands up.

“What? No! Not that!” He shakes his head. “No, Garrett’s not a pimp or anything like that. They’re just testing out a kind of partnership. Like, needing someone to attend a gala with or someone to be seen for a couple photo ops, but that will remain professional. No sex involved.”

“Oh,” I say and drop my hand with the card still in it and think that through. “Sorry, that still kinda sounds like you’re suggesting I hire a fake girlfriend.”

“I mean, yeah. From what he said, there are contracts in place, boundaries set. So you know they would be professional and nice.” Dom shrugs, backing up another step. “You could always ask Landon or one of the guys if you could borrow a friend, though. Just thought I’d throw out a more…discreet option. Anyway, I’m gonna go.”

I stare at the elevator door long after he’s gone before finally shaking it off and heading into my condo. Tossing my wallet, phone, and that annoying pink card onto my counter, I start warming up a pre-made meal in the microwave and go about putting away my gear in the laundry room.

When I sit at the kitchen island to eat my dinner, Garrett’s business card snags my attention back to it and reminds me of the awkward talk with Dominik. Would hiring someone to come to these events be cheating? Maybe. But what are my other options? I’m sure if I called my mom, she would come down for a bit.

I immediately burn that thought from my brain. I love my mom…from four hundred and sixty miles away. I can barely put up with her for the forty-eight hours I see her during the holidays.

Plus, what twenty-five-year-old man wants to call their mom and ask them to do multiple public events with them? I want to look friendly so people stop spreading shit about my team, not come off as a spoiled mama’s boy.

So that leaves either asking one of my teammates to help me make a friend or call Garrett.

Or tell everyone to shove their opinions of me right up their asses and let me do my job.

While that is my favorite option, I know it’s not fair to my team.

By the time I’ve finished my food and am placing my dishes in the dishwasher, I’ve made up my mind.