Happy wife, happy life.
I had to keep reminding myself why I had thrown so much money down the drain for one fucking party. Seventy grand flushed down the toilet for five hours of mingling with people, half of whom I couldn’t stand or didn’t even know.
What a fucking crock of shit.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Hillary, my soon-to-be-wife’s little sister, start quickly shuffling around the group of seated guests, trying to wave me over to her.
Hillary’s eyes were glassy and wide as her hands trembled, handing me a note. I stared at her, shaking my head. A tear rolled down her face as she whispered, “I am so sorry, Gavin. I couldn’t talk her out of it.” She shoved the note into my hand before turning around and bolting away in her tan heels and short flowing seafoam dress.
I dropped to my knees right there in the soft damp grass.
I didn’t want to know why—all I needed to know was that my life had shifted on its axis in one second flat.
Sean started to pull me up by my armpits, forcing me to stand. I couldn’t control it—I was fucking raging, slipping into shock, and I took it out on the closest target. I clocked my best friend right in the jaw. Tears were streaming down my face as he grabbed his cheek, staggering backward a bit. “Holy fuck man!”
I was frozen. All eyes were on me. No one was moving, not a word was spoken. My heart was crumbling. The silence was maddening.
Sean wrapped me up in hug, wrestling the note out of my hands.
“Get off of me!” I was seeing red as I screamed into his face.
“You just punched me, dude. You need to let me see this.” His eyes were locked on mine as I thought about pulling his shirt over his head like a jersey, but my better judgment kicked in just in time. I gave in and watched as Sean opened the handwritten note from my now ex-fiancée. His eyes got wider and wider as they read down the page.
“Fuck her man. Let’s go get fucking drunk.”
I tried to take the note from his hands. “Why don’t you just wait until tomorrow for this? Let’s make the best of all the money you blew on this shit show.”
Sean put the note in his pocket and I turned to the guests. “It seems like there won’t be a wedding tonight, I guess that’s something to celebrate.”
So, in our tuxes, with all the guests that were there for me, we went and got plastered at the open bar, ate a shit load of amazing filet mignon with wild Alaskan salmon along with everything else at the buffet, and danced our night away. The best part by far was the food fight the ensued once the cake was brought out. The extra cleaning and damages bill that came a few days later was totally worth it.
I had paid for that shit; I figured I might as well use it to begin the next chapter of my life as a fucking single man. The evening turned out to not be what was expected, but it was one of the best nights in my life—a complete and total liberation of Gavin Hayes.
Chapter 3
Brayden
“Way to fuckup out there today, rookie. At this rate, you’re going to make a great duster.” Gavin snickered as we walked past each other in the locker room.
“Thanks.” I rolled my eyes. There wasn’t much to say, which fucking sucked. I hated biting my tongue.
He smelled like absolute dick as he dripped with sweat, walking over to the showers. His cocky ass smirk made me want to deck him right there, but punching the coach’s son was probably not going to be a good move when I had just joined the team. Hazing was expected; all the guys gave me a hard time and I had tough skin, but there was just something about Gavin that I couldn’t fucking stand. It probably went back to the days when our dads were teammates. Our rivalry very well could have been our own, but it likely bled from our fathers’ propaganda.
My dad was Reggie Cox, one of the best left wings the New York Otters had ever seen. He was named captain his second season and had that C on his chest until he was forced to retire due to a knee injury he sustained from being hooked in the middle of a playoff game. The Otters ended up losing the game and hadn’t gone to the Stanley Cup since. That’s when everything went to shit for my family. It was the beginning of my father’s end, when he turned to the bottle and opiates, becoming the meanest son of a bitch on the fucking planet.
“Reg. Stop. You’re hurting him.” My mom pleaded as my father’s grip tightened around my upper arm. I just glared at him for a few seconds; this was nothing new. I knew standing up to him would only make matters worse, but it was getting to the point where I just didn’t care anymore.
“Dad, I promise I can do better.” I tried to pull away, but that only made his nails turn in, digging slowly into my tender flesh, even through the jersey. Dad’s power was a real bitch and he abused it knowingly.
“You’re going to learn how to do this slap shot if we have to be here all night.” His face was boiling red as he spit the words out at me, our noses barely an inch apart.
The rest of the team watched from the bench, most of their jaws dropping to their chests as our coach reamed out their teammate again.
My mom leaned over the wall, trying to reach out to her husband—yet another failed attempt to break through his rage.
“Dad, please. I promise I will get it right this time.”
“You fucking better, or you’re going to be a damn good duster and Connor will be my new starting left forward. How would you like that?”
