Page 7 of Code Violation

Will scrolls through his phone, sprawled on his hotel bed with his lips twisted into a mischievous grin.

“Do you think over thirty thousand dollars on a wedding dress is excessive?”

I stand from my own bed in the hotel room in Boston that we’ve been sharing for the past couple of nights and grab my phone charger from my bag. “Excessive to everyone else? Absolutely.” I plug my cell into the charger and make my way back to the bed, sighing as I take a seat on the edge of the mattress. “For you, however, I’d say it was an entirely appropriate budget.”

Will turns his phone so I can see, a floor-length Vera Wang lace wedding gown, priced at $31,000, staring back at me on the screen.

“Did Drew send you that?” I ask, confident that she didn’t.

Despite being my coach’s daughter and coming from money, Will’s fiancée is probably shopping for her dress in a thrift store. She’s that kind of humble.

Will zooms in on the dress, studying its detailing more carefully. “Nah. She sent a couple of options, like we needed to keep the wedding below one hundred thousand dollars or something.” He scoffs at the notion, and I pick up my water glass from the nightstand set between our beds. “I expect to drop at least five hundred thousand dollars on the day alone.”

Forcing myself to swallow and not spray my drink in his face, I finally open my mouth. “Half a million dollars? You want to spend that kind of money on a twenty-four-hour period in your life?”

He just shrugs like it’s no big deal. I guess to the Jones family, it really isn’t. Will and his twin sister, June, were born to parents who basically shit money during their careers. His mom, Kate, co-owns one of the largest legal practices in the US, and his dad, Jensen, earned even more money than our coach did during his career.

I, on the other hand? Well, I’m not from money. I’m a Detroit boy through and through, and I’m fucking proud of my roots, even if my home life was more than questionable.

I miss my mom, Elaine. Her demise to cancer is something I make a point of burying deep in the depths of my brain. I can’t say the same for my dad, Derek, who was incarcerated in Detroit for over a decade. I visited him there once, and that was a time too many. The guy is a living reminder of the life I could’ve spiraled into if it wasn’t for my mom getting out of their marriage when I was a toddler and hockey keeping me on the right track despite a criminal record I’m not proud of. College was a struggle but also a necessity, even though I almost managed to fuck that up too. Fifth in the draft and struggling through a biology degree I didn’t want to complete. I somehow managed to land on my feet after three years of bad behavior in the NCAA with a signing bonus that gave me the financial head start that wasn’t going to come from my parents.

My forward and I couldn’t have had more different starts in life, but somehow, Will and I grew a mutual understanding and respect, and we have been good friends since he joined the Rogues straight out of college last season. He pretty much runs the forward line these days and is already one of the most valuable players in the league.

“Drew deserves it. She’ll tell me that it’s wasted money when nothing could ever be considered wasted on her.”

I pull in a breath and puff out my cheeks, holding up a hand in surrender. “Sorry,” I blow out. “I was on the cusp of puking but managed to hold it in.”

He deadpans at me, “I’m young and in love. Sue me.”

My attention lands on my cell on the far side of the room. I haven’t heard from Kane in nearly a week, which is unusual. He normally reaches out around this time each month, asking for money to pay the bills he’s ignored in favor of spending it on bullshit.

“I need to make a phone call,” I say to Will when I reach my phone and disconnect the charger.

Ten percent battery should be enough since I don’t make a habit of having prolonged conversations with my brother.

Will’s eyes move from his phone screen to me, a question in them. “Do you want me to make myself scarce?”

I shake my head and open the bedroom door. “No need. I won’t be long.”

Stepping into the hallway, which is decorated in a similar dark gray wallpaper to our hotel room, I scroll to Kane’s contact and hit Call, debating if he’ll be awake at eight a.m. in Seattle. He frequently doesn’t wake up before midday. Something that used to drive me fucking wild when we lived together for a short while. He still lives in the place he and Vesper shared before they finally split and he wasn’t gentlemanly enough to do the right thing and move out himself.

“What?” Kane’s comatose voice groans down the line, and I lean back against the wall, closing my eyes and thinking of Mom.

You made her a promise to be there for him.

“I haven’t heard from you in, like, a week.”

He grumbles something inaudible and shifts around before the familiar sound of him lighting a cigarette pisses me off.

I fucking hate smoking and especially when I’m paying for his habit.

“It’s been a rough time, all right?” He yawns, taking a long drag from his cigarette.

I hang my head between my shoulders. “Tell me you didn’t get fired from this job.”

“No.” He blows out another breath. “I fucking hate my job, but I still have it. Being a gas station attendant isn’t exactly difficult. It’s way easier than a car mechanic,” he remarks. “I fucking hated the long hours in that job.”

“Then what’s the problem?” I ask, loathing that he doesn’t value his job when there’s a ton of people who are desperate for the opportunity to earn a reliable wage. The guy is twenty-six but acts like a fucking preteen.