1
CONNOR
Arriving late because I got sidetracked, I slide into my chair and swipe my sunglasses off my eyes. I can’t help but smirk at the men sitting across the outdoor table from me, overlooking Lake Spark at Catch 22, a local establishment with a decent menu. The dark emerald-blue lake is calm today, and the pines lining the backdrop are green from recent rain.
And these men? They may be embracing a casual day with jeans and t-shirts, but their seething stare has become a constant occurrence.
But I’m the golden ticket, and they know it.
“What lovely weather we’re having for May in Illinois. Probably means it’ll snow next week, but it’s the small wins, right?” I calmly say as I cross my arms and feel a victorious grin form.
“Cut the bullshit, Connor.” My Uncle Declan is the first to speak, and that doesn’t really surprise me. His stake in my hockey career is a little high, considering he owns the Spinners. He’s never afraid to voice his disapproval, yet he has a soft spot for me. How can he not? He married my aunt Violet, and she’s the best. More like a friend since we’re closer in age, plus her flower shop provides the flowers that I need to charm the female population around here.
Sitting next to my uncle is my father. Ford Spears and Declan Dash are hockey legends; they played together years ago and never left hockey behind. My father owns the sports complex nearby where the Spinners train, and these two are also true partners in crime.
Which is unlucky for me most of the time.
My dad sighs. “Why are we having this conversation yet again?” While he isn’t my agent, he voluntarily took on an unofficial role as my manager and trainer without the title, lucky me. He can throw in the dad card too, yet I’ve never minded. My father and mother had me when they were young, which means the age difference makes it a hell of a lot easier to connect sometimes. My parents did a lot for me, that I’ll never forget. So, if he wants to help guide my career, then so be it.
But right now? These two men are ganging up on me.
Uncle Declan slides his drink to the side and leans against the table, scanning the area to ensure nobody is taking notice of us. Even if they did, Lake Spark is a small town that respects keeping gossip within our bubble. “I’m begging you, for all our sakes, to cool it down with the partying,” he states.
“You’re landing in too many media reports and not for the reasons that make your mother happy,” my father adds. He’s pulling out the big guns, mentioning my mother who I buy flowers for on a regular basis because she’s amazing.
Still, I roll my eyes. “We made it to the playoffs, even after our shitty season, so of course, the team was going to celebrate,” I justify. What a shame we were out in the second round.
“There is a photo of you taking shots next to the goalie while lying on a bar top,” my uncle deadpans.
I shrug a shoulder. “So? I’m in my twenties. What else would I be doing to celebrate?”
My father shakes his head from my answer while he slides his hand along his brow.
Good ole’ Uncle Declan points a finger at me. “I swear I could strangle you.” He doesn’t mean it. He has to play bad cop when he’s in business mode. At family events, he’ll just turn off his work switch and be uncle extraordinaire, complete with a side hug and jokes.
“It’s off-season now. I’m strongly suggesting that you lie low. Try to straighten up your image a bit. You want to be in the media because of your skill, not because of your off-ice antics,” my dad points out.
He may present a valid point. It took years to prove I earned a spot on the team due to talent, not connections. Hockey may be family tradition, but my abilities have made me MVP for two seasons straight. I’m a damn good defenseman. And so what, sometimes media throws in the hottest bachelor title. If you have good looks, then celebrate it.
“Relax, I have one more thing, then I’ll focus on sleeping in, hanging with my little brothers, and hitting the gym.” My parents got back together when I was ten, and my little brothers came a few years later. When I return to Lake Spark, even though I have my own place, I’m at my parents’ a lot, and the house is chaos, with kids running around and a Labrador who is enjoying his final years.
The two in front of me glance at one another with a puzzled look.
Lifting his nose, my father asks with a hardened stare, “What’s one more thing?”
My grin stretches. “Vegas. The boys and I are heading there tomorrow for Briggs’s birthday. Don’t worry, I’ll be back for family dinner by the weekend.”
Both men wince at my statement before shaking their heads in disapproval. But then my father forms a soft smile for someone who seems to be standing behind me.
“Hey, Hadley,” he greets her.
My body tightens, and her name wipes my cocky grin right off my face. Keeping my eyes set on the table, I choose to ignore the fact that Hadley Crews, with her long silky hair with caramel highlights and sparkly blue eyes, is stopping at our table to say hello to my father because she’s a good girl like that.
“Hi, Mr. S and Mr. D.” Her polite tone makes me grip my denim-clad thighs.
Hadley is a few years younger than me, my next-door neighbor growing up, and the daughter of a former baseball star. She’s also anything but polite… when it comes to me.
“Christ, how many times do we have to tell you, it’s Ford and Declan. We’re too young for that mister crap,” my father corrects her, because our parents are best friends, down to our moms sipping a dry white on weekends together.
