Page 7 of Flashback for the Forward

Properly chastised, Crew grimaced. “Sorry. That’s my bad.”

Our teammate’s wife let out an unimpressed humph, steering Maisie and Austin toward the door.

“Great,” Levi huffed. “There go my chances of getting laid tonight. Thanks for that.”

Reverting back to his fun-loving self, my twin chirped, “Try to view the glass as half full. It’ll be good practice for when we hit the road in a couple of weeks.”

Levi’s gaze tracked the retreating forms of his family. “Never thought I’d say this, but I’m dreading the start of the season. I’m not ready to leave them.”

The guy had gone from bachelor to family man in the blink of an eye—a change no one had seen coming. Especially not when his reputation as a playboy preceded him when he’d been traded to the Surf less than a year ago.

As his friend and captain, I was compelled to ask, “Thinking of hanging up your skates?”

He heaved a sigh. “Maybe? Chasing glory doesn’t seem like it’s worth the sacrifice these days. Not when I’ve already missed out on so much time with Maisie.”

That was understandable. He’d only discovered he had a daughter a little over six months ago, and she had complex medical needs as an amputee.

I placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’re already a league champion. No one would blame you if you took a step back to focus on your family.”

He hung his head, breathing out, “Yeah. I just don’t want my kids to see me as a quitter, you know?”

“Retirement isn’t quitting,” I reassured him.

“Then why does it feel like it is? Like I’d be abandoning the team when we’re working so hard to turn things around?”

There was no way to sugarcoat it. The San Diego Surf were the worst team in the entire league. But with the addition of Levi midseason, and a coaching change not long after that, we’d turned a corner. We wouldn’t be winning a championship anytime soon, but for the first time, the hope that maybe someday we could began to circulate throughout the locker room.

“How about this?” I suggested. “You finish out the two years left on your contract, then re-evaluate?”

“Yeah,” Crew chimed in. “By then, you’ll be old as fuck anyway.”

“Yes, let’s dig the man a grave when he turns thirty-five.” Sarcasm leaked into my tone.

My brother rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. Hockey years are like dog years. By the time you reach your mid-thirties, you’re practically ancient.”

I hated to admit it, but he had a point. The wear and tear on our bodies from playing eighty-two games a year—this season, that number bumping up to eighty-four—was brutal. The older we got, the longer it took to rehab from injuries, and at a certain point, guys decided it wasn’t worth living in constant pain anymore, no matter how much they loved the game.

At twenty-eight myself, it would only be another year or two before I was deemed “past my prime.” It sucked knowing my days playing professional hockey were numbered.

But I suppose it was par for the course.

Good things never lasted. Not for me, at least.

Chapter 2

Bridget

“BRIDGET!”

The roar of my name was followed by a slam of the door that shook the entire house, and my stomach bottomed out.

Heavy footfalls grew closer as I racked my brain, desperately trying to think of what I’d done to set him off this time.

I was still drawing a blank when Aiden’s booming voice echoed throughout the kitchen. “Where the hell were you?”

My eyes slammed shut, my indiscretion becoming clear.

Standing at the sink with my back to him, I pulled my hands out of the soapy water, wiping them on my apron while silently commanding them to stop trembling.