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Cian

“It's a stunning eighty-nine-degree morning here in Austin, Texas, and you're listening to 105.4 AARX FM. Stay tuned for the latest highlights in the GWL. The San Antonio Rattlers are going head-to-head with The Chicago Engines—"

Killing the engine, I bounced out of my truck, practically skipped to the property’s front door, and let myself in without bothering to knock.

Oscar and his wife, Mia, had moved into this two-bedroom villa in Barton Creek shortly after we were drafted to Austin. Six months later, after I'd tried the transient accommodation provided by the team and found it less than inspiring, I'd rented my own single bedroom place two blocks from them.

"Wakey wakey, time to go, Caveman!" I called, slamming the door hard behind me. While I had no problem inviting myself in, and Oscar and I had lived together for years in college, I'd walked in on them in compromising positions one too many times to risk catching them unaware.

The smoky scent of bacon flavored the air, and I followed my nose to the kitchen to find the man bent over the cooktop.

"I'll be ready in a minute, just making sure Mia eats today."

As he spoke, he dipped a thick cut of bread into an eggy mixture and threw it on a second pan. A rush of cinnamon and butter made my mouth water, and if it hadn't been the first day of training camp, I would have insisted he fry some up for me.

"That smells amazing, but if that's in your gut, I'm not going to envy you in a couple of hours."

"Oh, don't worry. I had granola. Only Mia gets the good stuff today."

"Damn straight.” Mia breezed into the room in a cloud of the Paradox by Prada perfume that I helped Oscar pick out for her for Valentine’s Day. Her long, black hair swept around her hips as she sashayed over to her hubs and pulled him into a kiss. These guys were goals, for real.

I let them have a minute, but when Oscar’s hands started wandering, intervention was required to avoid us being late. Snatching a tea towel, I twisted the fabric into a tight curl and snapped it at his ass, enjoying the squeal of surprise almost as much as the glower I received for my efforts.

“You’re an asshole.”

“And we’re going to be late unless you move your ass. Mia, you look gorgeous, as always, but we have to hit the road.”

Oscar sighed and slowly disengaged from Mia, dropping a final kiss on her nose before jogging off. He returned a moment later with his kit bag over his shoulder, pausing long enough to pin his wife with a faux-stern look. Mia just rolled her eyes, taking a large bite of toast before she gave him an obnoxious wave.

“And time to go,” I announced, grabbing my friend by the shoulder and shoving him out the door before he could get caught up again.

“I love you!” he called as I slammed the door and ushered him toward my truck.

“I think you have her pretty safely locked down now. You can ease up on all the lovey shit, man,” I groused, cranking the engine and leaving a cloud of diesel in our wake.

He laughed and patted my head. “Not gonna happen. I know how good I got it with her, and I’m not ashamed to be loud about it. She deserves to spend every day knowing exactly how I feel. You’ll get it one day.”

I shuddered and knocked his hand away.

“I don’t think so. You guys are a once in a lifetime thing. I don’t think it’s on the cards for me. I’ll just have to keep letting bunnies warm my bed until I retire, then it’s back home to help with the dogs.”

If I thought I’d get some sympathy out of my friend for the bleak forecast on my life, I’d forgotten who I was speaking to.

“First, you would need to actually be in the habit of picking up bunnies to have them warm your bed. And second, I will personally make sure you have a granny flat on my future property before I let you go home permanently. You can be a manny for all our kids, it’ll be great.”

“Does Mia know about this plan?”

“Nah, but she’ll be fine with it.”

I huffed, scraping a hand through my hair. She would be, too. Mia had never met my parents, and we never spoke about our upbringing together, but like recognized like when it came to trauma, regardless of the individual experience.

Oscar and I both knew I didn’t want to end up back at home. Hell, visiting my parents was hard enough, but I’d keep checking in on them because it was what I did.

I made sure that everyone was okay.

Settling into a comfortable silence, we let the banter of morning radio fill the air as we approached the bridge over the Colorado River.

“I wonder how much they’ve changed up the lines this year,” Oscar muttered as we pulled into the parking lot at the Aces Performance Center. The state-of-the-art building was a labyrinth of hallways branching off into rooms for player development and R&R, as well as staff offices and facilities. In the far reaches of the building, on the second floor, the executives and management sat in well-furnished offices that we all hoped never to visit. In the center of everything was my favorite place in the building. The rink.

As we stepped through the doors, the kiss of chilled air on my skin made me grin in anticipation. I lived for hockey. My earliest memories were of skating around the pond at the back of my parents’ property on cold winter mornings, firing pucks into a makeshift goal my dad had put together with branches and an old bedsheet. The skates were too big, my stick was too small, both thrifted from the Goodwill two towns over, but I didn’t care about anything once I was out on the ice. Even now, in the heat of a game, I never felt more in control, more free, than when I was speeding over the ice.

“Let’s get out there,” I said, slapping Oscar on the shoulder and heading toward the rink to check in before I dumped my gear in the change rooms.

“This is going to be a good year. I can feel it.”

“Can you feel it in your flow?” he asked, tugging at my hair. I batted his hand away. “Maybe I can. If that’s your way of asking if I’m keeping it this year, you bet your ass I will.” I gave him a cheeky wink and hiked my kit bag higher on my shoulder, shaking my hair out behind me.

I’d thought about cutting it, but after getting so close to the finals last year, I didn’t want to risk losing the luck. Literally cutting it out, if you will. It was at collar length, and as long as I remembered to brush it, it wasn’t too much of a hassle.

Plus, I liked it.

Oscar grunted. For someone with a near-paralyzing fear of birds, he had a remarkable disdain for charms and superstition. He never seemed to complain when the hair came through and gave us the W, though.

A bright laugh echoed around the rink and a flash of bright orange curls flew past half a second before someone in full gear. The number seventy-seven on his back let me know it was Lathan Silver, the team’s other alternate captain, getting in early for ice time. As they circled back, I tried and failed to ignore the one sticking point in my otherwise perfect world.

Blair Kennedy was a social media manager who knew her stuff. The marketing campaigns and social posts she coordinated for the team socials, as well as every individual player, were top quality and frequently went viral. I’d heard her talk shop like one of the old pros, and as she took another lap with Silver, I had to admit her skate work was flawless. Her homely looks belied a personality that shone on every person she interacted with… except me.

For some unknown reason, every time I looked into those plain brown eyes, pure hatred radiated back at me. Oscar told me I was exaggerating. I told him there were twenty-five formal fundraising events that had Aces players in attendance the previous year. Only one player had been forced to attend every single one. This guy.

Until the tenth event, I hadn’t even owned a tuxedo.

When it became obvious it would be an ongoing thing, I’d quit hiring the damn things and had one tailored.

I still hated wearing it.

“This year’s going to be different,” I vowed as she broke away from the right winger and headed for the boards, smiling at my friend. As she noticed me standing beside him, the warmth washed out of her features.

“I’m going to make her like me.”