Chapter 1
Hunter
Icheck the defender hard into the boards and win the battle for the puck.
Spinning around, I cradle my prize with my stick as I skate down the open ice toward the goal.
The goalie pushes out from the net to try to narrow down my angles, but I’m going too fast. With a quick flick of my wrist, I launch the puck off the end of my stick.
It zips past the goalie’s outstretched glove but sails wide left and misses the net.
“Fuck,” I growl as I race behind the goal.
I slam into the first defender before he reaches my errant shot, and Murph dislodges the puck from between him and the boards. Murph has a clear path to the net, and he takes it. He fakes like he’s going low with his shot, and at the last second, he flips the puck up past the goalie’s stick and into the back of the net.
I breathe out in relief as the buzzer sounds.
“One to nothing,” Murph says as he pounds me on the back. “We’ve still got a shot to win the division.”
But when we skate over to the bench and file off the ice, Coach Jones isn’t smiling.
“Nice goal, Murph.” Coach slaps him on the shoulder and then turns to me. “You do what you need to do to get out of this funk, Storm. You hear me? Whatever it takes. You’re our first-line left winger. I want to keep it that way.”
His warning isn’t subtle, and I know he meant it that way.
“Understood,” I tell him. “I’m working through it.”
“You need my help, just let me know.”
“Yes, sir.” I continue past him.
Once we’re off the ice and out of earshot of any media or coaches, Murph mutters to me, “We need you, Hunt. We got lucky tonight.”
Dean, my co-captain and our star defenseman, catches up to us as we head for our lockers. “Fuck, yeah, we did.” His blond hair is sweaty and sticking to his head as he removes his helmet and throws it into his locker. “We should have beat those guys going away.”
I grimace. This slump has stretched for nearly four weeks. All of January, and now that we’ve hit February and nothing’s changed, I’m starting to panic. But I don’t tell Murph that.
Prior to January, I’d been having the best season of my career. There was talk of league MVP, and I was stoked. Lately, all that talk has cooled, and I just want to get back to what I know I’m capable of.
It was always my dream to play hockey for my hometown of New Orleans. So when they got an expansion team three years ago, and my brother, Liam, and I were picked up, it was a dream come true. Add to the mix our childhood friend, Sean Murphy, who wound up here thanks to free agency, and the three of us are feeling pretty damn lucky. We’ve got a great owner who’s all in, and I want to pay him back for bringing me here—I want to bring a championship to this city. But I can’t do that unless I get myself out of this damn slump.
I open my locker and toss my own helmet onto the shelf. I take off my skates and then start to strip off my jersey and shoulder pads.
“I know what the problem is,” a deep, gravelly voice says from my left. “You miss living with me, don’t you, baby brother?”
I glance up. Wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, my oldest brother, Liam, leans against the locker next to mine. He’s got his usual obnoxious grin on his ruggedly handsome face.
I cross my arms over my chest and set my jaw as I give my brother a hard look.
“Liam, back the fuck off. I don’t need to live with you to get out of my slump.”
“Kind of do, man.” Murph nods seriously, his overgrown dark hair falling into his eyes.
“We’ve all got superstitions, right?” Dean says, his dark eyes serious. “Most athletes do. Yours is to have a roommate and make sure you stay the hell away from relationships.”
Murph adds, “So how do you manage? Same way I do—you fuck on the regular. You’re doing that part just fine. But the first one? Clearly, you need a new roommate.” He turns to Liam. “You left him high and dry.”
Liam shakes his head. “Wasn’t meant that way. He swore he had a new housemate lined up. How was I to know he’d lied?”
