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CHAPTERONE
BLAKE
The campus partyis in full swing when I enter Delta Sigma Pi’s living room with some teammates, including my wingman, Ryan Sorenson. Red Solo cups litter the ground as people dance and mingle. But the moment we’re spotted, the overhead music halts, and everyone breaks into the victory Wildcat chant. That’s right. We won our first two hockey games of the season. A sense of pride swells inside my chest. I have a tall order to fill this year as the Cessna U Wildcats hockey team captain. And I fully intend to deliver. It’s a crucial year for us. We’re out to prove a point.
“Duke!” someone shouts the shortened version of my nickname over the noise, pulling my attention. My D-man, Andrew Klaas, holds three plastic cups as he makes his way toward us. I tighten my grip on the IPA bottle some guy handed us when we entered the room. Looks like tonight’s agenda is to get everyone drunk.
“You’ve got to try this!” Drew hands Ryan and me the drink, sloshing the contents onto my shirt. I jumped back. “Shit, man. Sorry. But Jimbo specifically poured these for us.”
“J-Man, huh?” I eye the concoction for good reason.
Jimbo, the fraternity’s president, is known for making potent drinks. But I raise the cup in toast because fuck it. Tonight is ours. “To the season.”
The drink burns as it slides down my throat, but there’s no denying the immediate warmth spreading through me. “What the hell was in that?”
Andrew grins mischievously. “Victory juice. A few more of those will fuck you up.”
This is why I stick to beer.
“We have a team meeting in the morning.” My warning would hit loud and clear on anyone else, considering Coach Howell would be livid if we showed up hungover, but Drew does as he pleases. Hardcore partying being at the top of the list. If he weren’t such a terror on the ice, I’d intervene, but he seems to have everything under control.
“Chill, Captain. This weekend is just the first W’s of many. We’re putting L.A. on the map.” He flashes his pearly white grin and nods toward a brunette who is currently eye-fucking him. “I’m going to chase some victory tail.”
“Jesus,” I mutter as he takes off. Coach is definitely going to be pissed.
“There certainly is no shortage of willing participants here,” Ryan says, bringing the bottle to his mouth.
I chase the shot with a sip of my beer and survey the room. He isn’t wrong. There does seem to be an overabundance of women, some of whom are blatantly checking me out. I hold back a sigh and flash my signature smirk instead. After all, we’re currently undefeated for the season. I should revel in the victories we’ve earned.
I’m in the prime of my life. Hockey. Hot women. And a team that is like a second family.
Life is good. With the NHL draft behind me, I have a real chance at a professional career. So, why am I complaining like a fan grumbling about a missed call? Perhaps it’s because my second family provides more support and camaraderie than my own family seems capable of understanding.
I hide my frustration with another drink.
Ryan nods toward the kitchen. “I’m going to grab some water. Maybe find some of thatvictory tail.”
Chuckling, I shake my head. “Catch you later.”
As I weave through the crowd, I spot some of my friends from outside the team—people who appreciate my talent and drive without defining me by it. It’s a refreshing change from the expectations of my family, who always try to push me toward their own vision of success rather than allowing me to chase my dreams.
“Hey, Blake!” one of them shouts above the noise, and we share a quick bro hug. “Congrats, man! You guys killed it!”
“Thanks,” I reply, still riding the high of the win. My focus remains on my future as an NHL player, but for tonight, I’m content to bask in the victory with my friends and teammates.
I take another swig of my beer, but it does little to quench my thirst for more than just a college victory. Every time I step onto the ice, I’m not only playing for my teammates; I’m playing for my future—a chance to break free from the suffocating grip of my family’s business legacy. It weighs heavily on me, this constant push and pull between their desires for me and my own aspirations.
“Blake!” A high-pitched voice interrupts my thoughts. The two women eyeing me since I arrived approach with matching smiles. The glint in their eyes makes their intentions clear. “You were amazing out there,” one of them coos, playfully brushing her fingers against my arm as if testing the merchandise.
“Thanks, you watched us play?” I keep my tone light despite the gnawing feeling I can’t seem to shake. My mind drifts back to the game. If we can make it to the Frozen Four with me leading the pack, maybe my father will finally grasp where my true passion lies. Perhaps I could renegotiate our deal.
“Can I get you a refill?” the other woman offers, batting her eyelashes as if she’s got something stuck in them. “I’d be down for anything you want.”
I bet you would.
“Think I’m covered, thanks,” I say, raising my hand and holding the beer bottle in a mock toast. The women giggle, undeterred by my lack of interest, and continue to hover around me like moths drawn to a flame. Usually, I don’t mind, but I’m just not feeling it tonight.
“Hey Blake, my friend dared me to ask you to show me how you earned the title ‘Dashing Duke of the Deke.’ Up for the challenge?” Another woman joins the conversation, grinning at me expectantly.
