Hooking - Kristine Allen Page 0,1
It sucked monkey balls.
Then there were a few of my former teammates that were pissed at me for leaving. Like it was my choice.
The new team was tight. They all knew each other and worked together well. I was suddenly the odd man out. I’d gone from the team captain and all-star to the newbie, and it sucked. Icing on the shit-tastic cake of my trade was that earlier in the season, I’d gotten into it on the ice with the Amurs team captain, Halvorson. It was pretty bad, and there was a bit of a grudge there.
Like I said, the one upside to being traded was that I ended up in Texas, where I was in a position to repair my relationship with my brother. Not that it was necessarily bad, but we’d definitely drifted over the years. Growing up, we’d been best friends, despite the almost two-year age difference.
Shoving my last pair of shoes in the built-in slot of my closet, I pulled my phone out of my pocket.
“Hey, Coop. I just got settled, and I need to go out and blow off some steam. You feeling up to going?” I’d lived in a rented condo ’til the end of the season, but recently I’d finally found a house that I loved. After Cameron McGregor, our center, told me it came on the market in his neighborhood, I looked at it and jumped on it.
“Shit, yeah! You should’ve told me, and I’d have helped you set up your mini-mansion.” He chuckled, and I rolled my eyes. He was forever giving me shit because I’d bought the massive home I did, but like I told him—a king needs his castle.
Okay, maybe it was a little big for a single guy but fuck it. It was perfect. When I said I had my castle, I meant it actually resembles a small castle. Every time I pulled into the garage, I felt like royalty coming home.
“You wanna meet me downtown? Or do you want me and the brothers to meet you at your place?” Cooper asked me. In the background I heard the zip of air tools. His flat track career might have been cut short thanks to his wreck, but he was making a killing doing custom work for guys who knew the quality of his work. He was meticulous and a genius when it came to making a vehicle scream.
Hell, he’d been the one to customize my Ducati.
“You guys can come by here if you want, and I’ll follow you downtown.” I pulled my shirt off and tossed it in the hamper as I prepared to shower.
Coop chuckled. “You sure you want a bunch of bikers pulling up into your driveway? What will your neighbors say?”
“Shit, they won’t say anything. I think half of them are my teammates.”
“All right, cool. What time?” We ironed out the details, and I got in the shower. Letting the hot water beat on me from multiple shower heads, I tried to relax. It had been a shitty end to the season. We’d made it to the second round of the Stanley Cup playoffs after entering as a Wild Card.
We’d lost in that second round—to my old team.
The only saving grace in all of it was that I was still playing hockey. I’d known that not having a no-trade clause was a gamble, but I really thought I’d be safe. Wrong. That’s what being big-headed had gotten me.
Then I’d had to go up to Montreal to get my shit moved down to Texas as soon as the season ended for us.
Taking a deep breath, I slowly exhaled. Fuck it. I was going to go out, forget about the fucked-up end of the season, and have a good time. I’d stick around town for a few weeks to spend time with Coop before flying up to Minnesota to stay with Dad. I’d bought a cabin on the lake, and we planned to spend most of the summer hiking, fishing, and boating.
Mom was off with her friends in the Mediterranean. She’d be back before the season started, so I’d stop by her place on my way back to Texas before training camp.
It wasn’t long before the rumble of multiple bikes sounded from down the road. By the time they reached my driveway, I had a huge smile on my face. I didn’t waste time; I opened the garage door and met them in the driveway.
My brother met me halfway and wrapped me in a bear hug.