I’m not nearly as hungover as some of my teammates, but I’m still struggling to rid myself of a headache that’s been lingering for most of the day.That happens when you’re working on less than five hours of sleep, two of which occurred on the plane ride home.
The trip from Vegas back to Vancouver takes less than three hours, but during that time a couple of our rookies, including Case Lyons and Shaw Benning, were in the lavatory hugging the porcelain throne while they puked up the previous night’s excessive alcohol.Rookie mistake.
But that wasn’t the biggest blunder that happened last night.That mistake was eclipsed by my friend and our team captain, Costa, ended up getting married.
Mother fucking married!
Never in a million years would I have expected a typical night out on the Vegas Strip to end up with me standing as best man for Costa.
Being Vegas, our quick celebration went from low-key to wild when we got invited to join a bachelorette party in progress.Next thing we knew, Cale’s getting hitched.
This is the guy who doesn’t even order a meal without considering all the options.When he bought his house, it took over a year for him to finally settle on a place, for fuck’s sake.But within hours of meeting someone, he ends up married to her?
I’m still in shock over his spontaneous out of character decision.We’re currently doing drills at the moment, and as I weave in and out around the cones with the puck, I lift my eyes for the briefest of seconds and catch a dopey-ass grin on Costa’s face.
The toe of my stick stutters against the ice, and before I can regain control, the puck veers wildly off course.
“Fuck,” I gripe, slapping the butt of my stick.I skate off to the side, where the chuckles from the guys along the wall make me even angrier at my loss of concentration.
Coming to a stop next to Costa, I bump his shoulder pad with mine to gain his attention.
“What’s up?”he asks casually, looking like he didn’t just pull an all-nighter.
“Bro, how can you be so calm right now?”
Should I have stopped him from making this life-altering decision?If the tables were turned, I’d want my best friend to step in and be the voice of reason, right?
Costa shrugs, his eyes scanning the drills taking place around us, and then gives me a look of incredulity, like he doesn’t know why I’m asking such a question.
He doesn’t even seem the least bit fazed that he is now legally wed to a complete stranger.I asked him three times at the altar if he was sure about what he was about to do.
“It’s all good.I’m doing the right thing.”That’s all he said to me beforegetting fucking married.
I’m still wondering if he really was as sober as he said he was.
I shake my head.“That was a fucking crazy-ass decision you made, don’t you think?Why aren’t you freaking out right now?”
His green eyes crinkle, and there’s a flash of a crooked grin as he lets out a laugh.Then he responds in his typical thoughtful, very Costa-like manner.
“It just seemed like the right thing to do.”
“The right thing?”My voice goes up an octave in utter disbelief.His entire attitude is just plain weird.“Did you knock her up or something?”
Costa chuckles.“I don’t think it happens that fast.”
I mean, okay.A lot of quicky marriages happen during crazy drunken nights in Vegas, but most end once both parties sober up and realize what a mistake they’d made.I figure that’s why Vegas also has a high rate of quickie divorces.
But from the sound of it, Cale and his new wife—I don’t even know her name, for fuck’s sake!—are planning to stay married.I swivel on my skates so I can fully face him, eyeing him with all the skepticism and censure I can dredge up from my emotional bank.
“Dude, you don’t know that woman.At.All.”I punctuate the last two words with a stick tap on the ice.“She could take you to the fucking cleaners.Or worse, sell you out publicly if things go south.You have major assets and financial interests to protect.”
Why I’m so overly invested and concerned about the state of Cale’s relationship status is beyond me—Except for that I worry about him gettingmarriedon a fucking whim.That’s a big fucking deal.
I huff out an exasperated breath as I continue to glare at him.He just grins back at me, slipping a glove back over his hand and tapping the top of his stick against my helmet.A whistle blows to indicate a change on the ice, and he pushes off the boards.
“Good talk, buddy,” he calls over his shoulder as he skates toward the middle of the ice, where his line mates are circling up.I stare aghast at his nonchalance as he passes around the puck like it’s just another day of practice.
My skin suddenly flushes hot, irritation peaking and about to spill over.Why the fuck does it matter to me that he’s married?
