Page 23 of Game Misconduct

nine

. . .

Nick

three months ago

Luke fucking Henry. I can’t stand that guy.

For the past year, every time I think of that trip to the Caribbean, my blood boils. Every time I think of him pawing at my girl, I want to punch something.

Not that Bex Whitney is my girl. She can’t fucking stand me. Doesn’t mean I’ve been able to stop thinking about her, though.

The four times we played Austin last season, I punched him. Repeatedly. By the third game, he had it out for me just as much, and the final match—well, that was a draw. It was worth the game misconduct majors and getting ejected to finally unleash some of my frustrations.

It’s not like I can go out and get laid to clear my head. As much as I’d rather not, my dick only wants one woman. I don’t know why I’m so fixated on her, but I can’t deny the simmering attraction flooding my veins every time I think of her.

Though I can’t deny it felt good to beat that asshole’s face in. If I can’t fight my best friend’s fiancé anymore, at least I can punch his teammate.

As far as I know, Bex and Luke are still together, and that’s all the reason I need. The thought of spending all weekend with the two of them all loved up makes me want to hurl.

But it’s Elsy’s wedding. I will do anything for my best friend. Including walking the woman who haunts my every waking thought down the aisle.

Henry came to the bachelor party last night, barely leaving Whitney’s side. The two of them are thick as thieves—and no wonder, if he’s dating his little sister, and they play for the same team. Happy family.

Although not for long. Last I heard, Henry signed with Tampa, and Whitney still has another few years contracted with Austin.

Thinking about the contract situation gnaws at my stomach. Mine is up for renewal at the end of this coming season, and my agent’s said things aren’t looking good. I’m thirty-four, facing the end of my career. I’ll be lucky to eke another two-year contract extension. By thirty-six, who knows how long I’ll keep playing. I’m practically ancient in the league. There are only a handful of guys who hit their forties.

It might be time to hang up the skates. But then what do I do with myself? Hockey is all I know. It’s the only thing I have going for me right now. If I don’t have hockey, who am I? I don’t think I like that answer.

“You okay?” Elsy asks me. She’s wearing the fluffy white dress and has her blond hair pulled back in an updo as the makeup artist puts the finishing touches on her face. “You look like you’re about to puke.”

“I’m fine,” I mutter.

“Hungover?”

“Not really.” I woke up with the barest twinge of a headache, and after a fried egg sandwich and an Advil, I was good to go.

After all, we’ve got a very important wedding to attend to. I have to bring my A-game. Elsy’s my best friend. She’s all I have.

A few other women buzz around the dressing room, friends of Elsy’s I’ve met a few times over the years. I’m surprised Bex isn’t in here with them, but she’s with her brother and the rest of the guys. Which makes sense.

Especially with… Luke Henry. My lip curls in disdain. Maybe they’re sneaking off for a prewedding tryst.

Fuck, I’ve got to stop obsessing over this. We had a one-night stand, and it went sour. I have no claim to her, and I don’t have any business getting upset over who she may or may not be sleeping with. We’re not together. She won’t even look at me.

Throughout the rehearsal yesterday, she pretended like I didn’t exist, even as we were walking down the aisle together. And she flinched every time I touched her arm. During the dinner afterward, we sat at different tables, and we didn’t mingle. Even though I wanted to talk to her, to ask for another truce, I have to respect that she would rather I disappear.

Another twenty-four hours and then I’ll never see her again. Maybe I can finally move on. Get past this weird fixation that’s plagued me for three years.

The wedding planner bustles into the room. “We’re almost ready,” she announces. “How are we doing?”

The makeup artist steps away, surveying her work. “You’re perfect.”

Elsy looks to me, and I nod grimly.

Let’s get this show on the road.