AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The pleasant AI voice breaks through the car’s speakers.“New text from Bryan.”
“Read text,” I command.
“Where the fuck are you?”
Normally, I’d take the Ducati, but it’s in the shop. If I were on the bike, I’d probably be able to make up time since I’m a speed demon. I’m running behind, but practice went late and I had game footage to review.
“Reply to text . . . Twenty minutes out.”
Bryan’s always had a thing about being on time. He puts up with a lot of my shit though, considering my calendar is nuts and we don’t get to see each other nearly as often as we used to. We’ve gone our separate ways since high school. I was drafted early on, and he went to an ivy league school on the East Coast. We have our different lives, him with Jordana and me with a revolving door of beautiful pussy. We’ve always been understanding of each other’s lifestyles and busy schedules. Especially now that I’m the new team captain.
Still can’t believe they gave me Sully’s spot. I’d never admit it, but it’s fucking terrifying. It’s a lot of pressure to keep the boys in line and make sure we all are getting along and doing what we’re supposed to. Sully was quiet but strong—and one hell of a fucking leader. His best friend, Barrett Conway, is retiring at the end of the season and staying on as an alternate cap. I appreciate that he gives advice without being a dick about it.
It’s given me some perspective; I can see why I pissed off all my previous captains. Stirring up shit on the ice is my specialty. But now that I’m the one wearing a C on my sweater, I’m the one who speaks with the stripes, so I can’t get into fights, or I’ll lose all credibility and respect from the officials... which results in penalties, fines, and coaches up my ass.
I’m done starting fights. From now on, I only finish them. Gotta say, I kinda miss the chaos, but having the added responsibility gives me more control over my contracts, boosts my sponsorships, and my favorite of all:women love fucking the captain.
It’s dark when I pull up to the hunting lodge. I haven’t been here since I was a teenager, but even in the low light, it’s clear the Davenports have been keeping the place in mintcondition, or at least the landscapers have, as per usual of their properties. Back in the day, Bryan and I used to ride quad-runners here and get into all kinds of mayhem. A couple of privileged rich kids escaping the rules and letting loose in the country. Unsupervised, nobody could tell us what to do or how to act. No itchy neckties and stiff shoes. Some of the most fun I had in my childhood happened here.
Although Bryan and I have grown apart over the years, our friendship is resilient, even though we don’t talk much. Now he’s getting married—fucking wild. He’s head over heels for Jordana; she’s hot as fuck, but it sounds like she has him on a short leash. I’ve reached out a few times, and he’s always going on about having to “check with the boss.” I can’t relate. Asking permission has never been a good color on me. Rebellion brings out the hazel in my eyes.
I enter through the huge oak door. Inside, Bryan strides toward me. “Finally!” He claps my back. “Good to see you, man.”
“You too. Sorry I’m late, Friday rush hour.”
“No worries. Come on, I gotta introduce you to everybody.”
Shrugging off my leather jacket, I abandon my bag at the door.
Beyond the luxurious foyer of the vacation home, we enter the great room that’s been transformed into a formal event space. High-top tables, an open bar, caterers, and a few ice sculptures replace the aged leather furniture that normally can be found here. A pianist in a tuxedo plays in the corner. Bryan and I took piano as kids, and memories of us playing Metallica on that Steinway make me chuckle. His mom hated that shit.
“Place looks great,” I say.
His fiancée appears at his side, and he wraps his arm around her lower back. “There you are,” he says.
Jordana looks...tempting, it’s a struggle to maintain eye contact. She’s like a curvier Blake Lively. Everyone expects me to look, this time though, she’s my best friends fucking fiancée—I’ll keep my eyes up. Her dress is white, short, and somehow, the long sleeves and high neckline make it even sexier. Her light-blonde waves are styled in this half-up, half-down fashion that show off how naturally beautiful she is. The kind you see in Miss America pageants—I’d know, I’ve fucked a fewstatesin my time.
“Jordana. Congratulations again,” I say.
“Same to you. I hear you were offered the position of captain this season. You must be thrilled.” Her answers are clipped, and she’s grinning, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. I get the sense she’d rather be anywhere else. Or perhaps she simply dislikes me.
“Thank you. Hopefully I’ll be able to rise to the challenge. I have some big shoes to fill.”
Another tight smile. “I’m sure you’ll do well. You had a very accomplished season last year. How many points did you score? Eighty-one?” For whatever reason, it bothers me that I’m having difficulty reading her.
I grin. “Eighty-two.”
“Didn’t know you were such a hockey enthusiast, babe,” Bryan comments, furrowing his brow and waving over my wedding counterpart from across the room.
“I’ve always been a Lakes fan,” she defends before quickly following up with “But I’m just regurgitating what the sportscasters say.”
Bryan rolls his eyes and mutters, “Lovely word choice, Jordana.”
A pretty brunette stalks closer. “Veronica, have you metCamden yet? Veronica is Jordana’s best friend and maid of honor. Veronica, this is my best man, Camden Teller.” He leans in and whispers, “Don’t fuck her.”
I recognize her from social media. The three of them are often going to brunches and other Davenport social hours.
“I don’t believe so!” She holds out her perfectly manicured hand for me to shake and doesn’t let go until I pull back. Veronica leers at me over her champagne flute, telling meshe’s down if I am.
