AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Fine,” she sighs, shaking my hand firmly. “But if this blows up in our faces, I’m blaming you.”
“Fair enough,” I chuckle as an odd twinge settles in my heart. “What’s your Venmo addy?”
We exchanged the information, and I transferred the funds. When I go to leave, Amanda calls after me.
“You forgot your jersey.”
Looking back over my shoulder, I call out, “Keep it. It may come in handy.”
Chuckling, I take off. This fake relationship just might be the craziest thing I’ve ever done, but at least it’ll keep my mom off my back for a while. Besides, it’s one dinner. What harm can it bring?
CHAPTERFOUR
BLAKE
The air isheavy and warm with sweat and determination. We take a moment to catch our breaths after a grueling practice session, slumping against our lockers. I peel off my gloves, the leather sticking to my skin, and toss them into my open locker.
“Man, this season’s gonna be lit.” Andrew yanks at his jersey until it comes free, revealing a canvas of tattoos beneath.
“Playoffs or bust.” I run a hand through my damp hair and ignore how the strands cling to my fingers. “We’ve got the firepower.”
“Speaking of firepower…” Ryan smirks and settles onto the bench, his eyes dancing with mischief. “Saturday night, Barton’s. You in?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for anything,” Easton adds, snapping his towel against someone’s bare thigh with a crack that echoes like a shot off the crossbar. Barton’s is a popular sports bar near campus that caters to Cessna U’s athletes. It’s also known for being lenient with IDs, which is helpful since half the patrons use fakes.
“Girls, booze, and bad decisions,” adds Riley, the underclassman defenseman. He flexes his biceps as he winks at his reflection in the mirror.
I roll my shoulders, feeling the satisfying ache of well-worked muscles. Going out after a victory sounds tempting, and I’m confident we’ll come away with another win. But there’s a nagging thought at the back of my mind that I can’t shake.
“Blake?” Ryan nudges me, eyes narrowing and reading me like one of his beloved comic books. “You’re awfully quiet, dude.”
“Thinking about the power play strategy,” I lie, tapping my temple. “Gotta stay one step ahead.”
“Since when does Blake Morton think about hockey off the ice?” Ryan laughs, throwing an arm around my shoulder. His grip is solid and grounding. He’s the kind of friend who knows all your plays before you make them, on the ice and off.
“Since always,” I shoot back, but the edge of a smile betrays me. The fucker knows I live for hockey. We’ve been friends since our first year of high school.
“Yeah, as long as your head stays in the game and not up Juliette’s skirt.” Ryan’s mocking tone sends everyone into fits of laughter.
“She’s gunning for you hard this year.” Andrew lets out a low whistle. “I give you two weeks tops before you’ll cave.”
“Never going to happen.” I keep my tone light and breezy but catch Ryan’s gaze. A silent conversation passes between us. He knows my drive. The reason my focus is solely on hockey. Well, mostly. Women and relationships are equal distractions I can’t afford. Being drafted by the Maine Pine Skaters means I need to prove myself worthy to avoid spending too long in the minor leagues. The countdown starts as soon as I graduate.
“All right, boys,” I say, commanding the room’s attention. We need to hit the showers soon, but a little team bonding won’t hurt. “Let’s bring the heat this season. And this weekend, we’ll set the town ablaze.”
“Cheers to that!” The room fills with agreement and anticipation.
I grab my towel and wipe away the sweat from my face. There’s no doubt that this will be an amazing year—a well-deserved one. We’ve worked hard for the past two years to make a name for ourselves. The league did a major expansion and realignment in college hockey. They bumped up our hockey program to Division One School and included it in a revised West Coast Division. I plan on making the most out of it. We’re more than just a team; we’re brothers. And as the laughter fades and the locker room falls into a soft silence, I know that the next two years belong to us.
Carrying that sentiment with me, we step out of the showers with a renewed sense of purpose. The room is thick with steam, but anticipating the upcoming games fuels me. That is until Drew brings up Saturday night’s plans again.
“Hey Blake,” Andrew tosses me a sly grin, “you never said if you’re in for Barton’s after the game. You know girls are gonna be all over the Wildcats’ captain.”
I curse under my breath and shut my locker door more forcefully than necessary, creating a clang louder than intended. “Nah, man. Moms got me roped into dinner.”
Eyebrows rise like they’re chasing the humor escaping through their smirks. Ryan’s voice cuts through, edged with a tease as sharp as skate blades on fresh ice. “What’s it this time, Blake? Another one of your mom’s setups? Will you find your soulmate between appetizers and dessert?”
Laughter erupts, filling the space with a chorus of chuckles. My cheeks heat, but I keep my smile locked down tight. This is precisely why I tried to avoid answering the question. They won’t let me off that easily—especially not regarding my mother’s meddling history.
