Chapter 1
Gret
“What in the ever-loving fuck was that? You trip and miss that wide-open shot and then not even ten minutes later you’re assisting the opposing team in the game-winning goal? You have got to be kidding me.” Gavin Hayes was yelling within an inch of my face as his dark eyes smoldered and steam bellowed from his nose.
Standing in the middle of the locker room after a crushing loss was hard enough. Knowing that defeat was all my fault was crippling. Having my coach chew me out in front of the entire team was soul crushing at best.
“Nerves got the better of me,” I tried to explain.
“Gret, I just don’t know what to do with your sorry ass right now.” He rubbed a hand over his face as he sighed. “Hit the fucking showers.”
Gavin Hayes wasn’t just the coach of the New York Otters or one of the most talented former players of the National Hockey League—he was my father—fact that made it even more humiliating to be one of the worst players on my team. It wasn’t that I was god-awful or anything, I definitely had my moments of victory, they were just fewer and farther between that they should have been. I was the legacy of greatness—the son of Gavin Hayes, the nephew of Braydon Cox, the grandson of Gideon Hayes and Reggie Cox—all incredible Otters players.
It wasn’t a secret that most of the guys on the team didn’t think that I deserved the Otter logo on my chest. And they definitely didn’t think I should have a starting position—most of the time I agreed with them. I knew that I was a decent player but decent doesn’t get you drafted to one of the best teams in the NHL. My connections were my saving grace—a fact that wasn’t lost on me for even a second.
Defeat hung heavy in the air and all eyes were locked on me. Frustrated glances and awful stares attacked me as I slunk away from all of the guys that I had just let down.
Standing in the shower, I tormented myself with the events of the game that hadn’t ended more than an hour before. The way I let the other players get in my head. The fact that I let my ankle relax a little too much on a turn making me falter with the puck. The worst was trying to get the puck to my teammate and overshooting it by a damn mile right into enemy territory and watching it fly right into the back of our net. Ridgeway, our goalie, didn’t even have time to respond. It all happened too fast. My head was still spinning from it all.
I didn’t want to see my father again. Disappointing him was the worst thing in the world. Why couldn’t I have just become an investment banker like my brother? Or gone to medical school like my sister?
Shaking off my disheartened nerves and self-doubt, I changed and grabbed my stuff out of my locker.
“You know I am hard on you because you’re better than you give yourself credit for,” my father’s low voice came from behind me.
Looking over my shoulder, I saw the kindest eyes that my old man could muster.
“Yeah, pop. I know. I just don’t like letting everyone down.”
“Don’t forget about the Christmas party tomorrow night at our place. Your mom will have your head if you no-show.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it. No one wants to rile up the pit bull that is hiding under that sweet smile that mom has.”
“Are you bringing Ridgeway again?” my old man teased as the goalie strode over to us.
“Come on, Hayes, you know I’m the best date this team has to offer,” Ridgeway laughed while toweling off his wet hair.
“Not this time, Gret. You’re not getting off that easy again.”
“Fine,” I huffed with a forced eye roll.
My mother lived for throwing parties and missing them wasn’t an option. Going alone wasn’t either. Mustering up a date at the last minute was going to be the hardest task for me. Between all of the traveling and practices, dating was never really in the cards.
“Your mother will be so happy.” My old man was beaming as I tried to smile back. Putting a sympathetic hand on my shoulder, my dad sighed. “Next game will be better. See you tomorrow. Get some food in you and rest. It’ll do the body good.”
“Later, pop.”
* * *
After games,most of the guys went out together. Usually I joined them but there was no way in hell I wanted to be around anyone after my piss-poor display on the ice.
Taking a seat at my usual bar, I ordered a cheeseburger and a manhattan.
Like father, like son.
One thing I definitely inherited from my dad was his taste for good, expensive bourbon.
“Surprised to see you show your face,” Jackie harassed with a little giggle.