It fucking sucked.
But at least for me, so did being alone.
I’d been lucky throughout my life. Tragedy seemed to avoid me. I still had three of my grandparents, both my mom and dad, who loved me and supported me—even when I came out to them during a particularly unhinged family Christmas gathering, which also happened to be my fifteenth birthday—and I’d managed to create a career for myself playing a sport I truly loved. I had good friends I could call on, though they were scattered around the globe by now. Broken a couple of bones, fucked up a few teeth, dealt with a shitty case of depression in my early twenties, but none of that had been excruciating or traumatic. None of it made me question if the universe had it out for me or not.
The universe had felt like my best friend for a long-ass time.
Yeah. Shit had been going great for me.
Then I met and fell in love with Ben, his dimples always on display from a toothy and handsome smile, even when he was holding a knife behind his back the entire time. Even when he would lash out at me with his words. Even when he’d cut down my confidence, when our arguments turned so toxic that the shit he’d tell me continued to ring through my skull like the hollow clanging of a distant bell. A haunting sound that drowned out everything else. All the praise and the positivity couldn’t make it past the shit he’d shout at me.
Fuck.
The trade couldn’t have come at a better time. I was ready to start fresh, in a city I’d never been to, surrounded by a completely new cast of strangers I could lose myself in. I had friends and family I was leaving behind, but they all understood my need for the move. My mood and motivation had taken a dive into the deep end after the breakup. They supported this, like they had supported every other decision I’d made in my life.
I sucked in a deep breath. The silence of an empty locker room was almost meditative for me. A stark contrast to the brotherly chaos and shit-talking that echoed up and down the black and light blue lockers a little less than an hour ago.
“I’ve got this,” I said to myself, a simple mantra that had carried me through quite a few life changes recently.
I didn’t need a relationship to be happy. I didn’t need someone to hold my hand, or to cuddle with me in bed, or to talk game with after a difficult practice. I had to be okay being independent because all men were fucking dogs, and I didn’t need to be chasing after one. It didn’t matter that I had genuinely thought I was going to be married and live that white-picket-fence-type life that had called to me since I was a kid. I was so obsessed with that idea that I ignored all the blatant red flags. I continued to fall into a cycle that would only serve to hurt me.
That stupid-ass fantasy was exactly that: a fantasy. A farce. Maybe some people were able to find and keep that kind of life, and that was good for them, but I had to be okay with a different reality.
I zipped up my duffel bag, shut my locker, and decided it was time for me to head home.
The Bobcats Ice Arena was the team’s home arena, which was made obvious by all the bobcat logos thatdecorated the wide hallways. The place was mostly empty except for a few maintenance workers and cleaners. I said hi to all of them, introducing myself as the new player on the team. I liked feeling like everyone was part of the roster, even if they never played on the ice. The people who maintained and cared for this arena were just as important as the guys skating around in it.
I zipped up my coat and stepped out into the fresh night air. The sting of a cold late October night bit at my cheeks. Being a hockey player meant I thrived in cooler temperatures, so the shift from Florida weather to Vermont weather didn’t bother me one bit.
My car was parked toward the end of the lot, next to a bank of trees that marked the beginning of a pretty dense forest.
That was another difference between Vermont and Florida: the foliage here made me feel like I’d traveled all the way to Jurassic Park.
I unlocked the car, opened the trunk, and tossed my bag inside. There were an extra pair of blades and sticks in there as well. I made sure they were tucked safely against the side before I slammed the trunk shut.
As I was getting into the driver’s seat, a rustle in the bushes caught my attention. I leaned halfway out of the car and stared into the shadows.
There it was again! Something big moved behind those bushes. There was a slight breeze, but nothing strong enough to rattle branches and leaves with that kind of strength.
Could it be a deer? Maybe a stray dog?
A serial killer who had a taste for freshly traded hockey players?
I didn’t like any of those options. Deer spooked me forsome reason I couldn’t quite explain. I was more of a cat person than a dog person, and serial killers were just never my thing.
The rustling ceased. My curiosity shouted at me to get up and investigate, but my sanity kept my ass firmly planted in the leather seats. I turned the car on and flipped the lights to high-beam mode. The shadows turned even more severe as the bushes and trees in front of me became spotlit by the bright white light.
Nothing. There was nothing—and no one—there.
Thank fucking God.
I turned the car on and was about to flick off the high beams when, through a sliver of clearing in the bushes, I saw a pair of paw prints leading away from my car.
Huh. So it was a stray dog. Guess that was the better option out of the three. I decided I’d ask the team if anyone knew about it. Maybe it was lost.
I turned off my high beams, pulled out of my parking spot, and left the lot, not thinking much of it.
Chapter Two
