prologue
TATE
Some people say you know instantly when you meet the person who’s going to destroy your life. Right now, watching my teammates celebrate our latest win, I have no idea I’m about to meet mine.
The Oakland Raptors just crushed Vegas four to one, and my teammates are acting like we won the fucking Stanley Cup. Masterson slams his beer bottle on the high-top table at the Baccarat Bar in the Bellagio. Foam spills over the rim and drips down the side onto the polished wood.
“Did you see that backhand in the second period?” he shouts over the music. “The Vegas goalie didn’t even know what hit him.”
Colby laughs, clapping him on the back. “You mean when you whiffed on that pass from Carter and nearly took out the ref?”
“Hey, that was a very strategic move, asshole,” Masterson shoots back, grinning.
The hotel bar is packed with tourists and locals, but our corner table feels like its own world. Loud, obnoxious, and exactly what you’d expect from a bunch of twenty-something NHL players who just dominated one of the best teams in the league.
I take a sip of my beer, but my phone burns a hole in my pocket. The call from my agent, Rex Ashton, hit right before I headed down here. His voice echoes in my head, in that damn diplomatic tone that always delivers bad news.
“Team management’s asking questions, Tate. Your save percentage has dropped since last season. They’re not panicking yet, but... ”
But they’re watching. Evaluating. Wondering if their investment in me was a mistake. Probably wondering if they’ll re-sign me now that my four years are up.
“Earth to Tate,” Cam Foster says, snapping his fingers in front of my face. “You celebrating with us or just here for the free drinks that Masterson’s buying?”
“Hey,” Masterson grunts after draining the last of his beer. “I got the drinks last time. Let one of the rookies buy this time.”
I force a smile and drum my fingertips against my glass. “Just thinking about that save in the third period. I thought that shot was going in.”
“Bullshit,” Carter van Kleef says, leaning back in his chair and raising his arms above his head. “That was pure instinct. You read that play perfectly.”
Carter should know. He’s been solid since he and Jack Larson got together last year. Watching them now, seeing how settled they both are since their rivalry turned bromantic, something twists in my chest. I look away.
“Speaking of perfect,” Masterson says, waggling his eyebrows, “did you guys see the blonde at the blackjack table? She’s been checking me out all night.”
“Dude, she’s looking at the exit sign behind you,” Cam laughs.
The conversation flows around me, familiar and comfortable, but I can’t shake Rex’s words. Or my mom’s call yesterday, asking when I’m going to bring home a nice girl to meet thefamily. They’ve been asking that question more often lately because my brother Mark is getting serious with his girlfriend Tessa, and each time it gets harder to avoid.
“What about you, Tate?” Jack asks, and I realize everyone’s looking at me. “Anyone catch your eye out here?”
My throat goes dry. “Nah, I’m good.”
“Come on,” Jaren pushes. “You’ve been single since Amanda, right? That was like six months ago.”
Eight months, but I’m not gonna correct him. Amanda was nice, pretty, smart…everything my family would approve of. But being with her felt wrong, like I was constantly acting. I never really…connected. She did, though. That’s when I knew I had to break it off. I didn’t want to be the asshole who led her on and gave her false hope for a future that would never exist.
“Maybe she didn’t check all his boxes,” Carter says, giving me an out.
“Or maybe he’s finally figured out what the rest of us already know,” Jaren grins. “Hockey’s easier than relationships.”
Everyone laughs, including me, but it comes out hollow. She definitely didn’t check all my boxes, but nobody knows what my checklist looks like. Hell, I’ve had enough trouble admitting it to myself. My eyes drift from Cam to Jack and then to Carter. Jack and Carter have been together for a couple of years, ever since they were drafted to the Raptors. And Cam’s been with Logan for about a year now, and even though Logan retired last season, they have the kind of relationship that’s enviable…solid, real, and comfortable.
The kind I’ve never had with anyone, not really.
I sit back and scan the bar, exhaling slowly.
That’s when I see him.
He sits alone at the far end of the bar, dark hair falling over his forehead as he stares down at his whiskey. Everything about him screams control, from his perfectly pressed shirt to the wayhe holds himself on that stool. But there’s something else there too. Something that makes my pulse spike and heat flood my chest.
