I turned away from the windows to survey the rest of the space. Thankfully, the condo was furnished, enabling me to bring only the essentials along.
This was one of those high-end executive rentals. Everything was neutral colors, but I didn’t give a shit about what it looked like as long as the bed didn’t aggravate my shoulder. Besides, the couch looked big enough to hold my parents and my brother’s family if they came to visit.
Maybe I could finally make good on my promise to teach my six-year-old niece, Olivia, to skate. The little firecracker would get a kick out of skating in the Hammerheads’ massive practice arena.
I stretched my neck from side to side as I made my way over to the sectional, letting my body fall back onto the oversized cushions.
Yep. This couch was big enough to hold the whole Landry clan.
Solid enough for a hookup, too.Girl or guy.
I hadn’t hooked up with anyone in a long time. Just the thought of getting back into the dating scene exhausted me.
Slouching down until my head could rest on the back of the couch, I closed my eyes, focusing on relaxing my tense muscles.
After eight years of living together, which had turned into a relationship neither of us seemed to prioritize, Mira and I had called it quits a year ago. We’d both known for a long time that whatever feelings had brought us together at university had long given way to something that wasn’t right for either of us. Relying on each other to meet our physical needs, offering a willing companion to important events, and otherwise staving off our loneliness was not what we deserved. Instead of talking like a couple, when our timelines matched up, we’d let all the demands of our careers overtake everything we had once liked in each other.
The combination of her high-demand career on the junior partner track in one of the best law firms in the city and my hockey schedule meant we’d hardly seen each other. Mira Patel was going places, and I refused to hold her back in any way. I’d never truly known if she had stayed in Toronto because it was my home base or because it was what she wanted. We’d parted on good terms—both having dealt with the emotions of a breakup a while before. I hoped she would keep me updated as a friend. But like everything else in my life, that fragment of a friendship went on the “time will tell” list.
I wanted to be more than someone’s reliable hookup after a long work week. And so did she.
As much as I’d promised myself that I’d get back out there when we broke things off, not a single person had struck my interest when I went out with the team after games during the season.
I wasn’t interested in picking up some random puck bunny and wondering if they’d stick around to get to know me better.
As a professional athlete, it was exhausting trying to figure out someone’s motives for being with me. I wasn’t looking to be anyone’s meal ticket or social media launchpad.
Shit. Maybe I was getting old, putting my hookup days behind me. With the pain in my shoulder and the jaded view of the dating pool I’d unconsciously developed, it would take a damn special person to change my mind.
All those reasons don’t fill in the pit of loneliness in your stomach though, do they?
Before I could sink too deeply into that thought, my phone buzzed in the pocket of my hoodie.
Wilde Thang: Hey Ace, you busy?
Asher: When in the hell did you get into my phone and change your name to that nonsense?
Wilde Thang: I have no idea what you’re talking about.
I waited a beat, knowing that Zane didn’t have it in him to keep a joke going longer than a minute.
Wilde Thang: Also, you left your phone on my desk when you went to sign your contract with HR. You should know better than to leave your phone behind. You never know who could get into it.
Wilde Thang: Also, didn’t anyone ever tell you to change your password regularly?
There it was.
Snorting, I swiped over to his contact and changed it back, not able to look at the moniker he’d given himself any longer.
Asher: You’re ridiculous. What do you want?
Zane: Is that any way to talk to your boss? I demand some respect around here!
Asher: Are you, though? While you were violating my phone, I’d swear the name of my employer on that contract I signed was Titans Sports & Entertainment, not Zane “The Wilde Card” Wilder. Maybe you need glasses in your old age, eh?
Zane: That’s it. You’re fired. Get the fuck out of my town.
Asher: That has to be a franchise record. Remember that rookie who threw a temper tantrum early in the first season we played together in Toronto? Coach Grant rocketed that guy’s ass out of that arena so fast I’m surprised it didn’t catch on fire. Did I just beat him, and claim the title of shortest contract in hockey history?
