Heartless King

by Hughes, Maya

  Heartless King

  Maya Hughes

  Copyright © 2020 by Maya Hughes

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Editors: Tamara Mayata, Sarah Kremen-Hicks, Sarah Polcher

  Cover Designer: Nail Qamber, Qamber Designs

  To anyone who has ever lost someone they loved…

  Contents

  1. Colm

  2. Imo

  3. Imo

  4. Colm

  5. Imo

  6. Colm - 3 Months Later

  7. Imo

  8. Imo

  9. Colm

  10. Imo

  11. Colm

  12. Imo

  13. Colm

  14. Imo

  15. Colm

  16. Imo

  17. Colm

  18. Imo

  19. Colm

  20. Imo

  21. Colm

  22. Colm

  23. Imo

  24. Imo

  25. Colm

  26. Imo

  27. Colm

  28. Imo

  29. Colm

  30. Imo

  31. Colm

  32. Imo

  33. Colm

  34. Imo

  35. Colm

  36. Imo

  37. Colm

  38. Imo

  39. Colm

  40. Imo

  41. Colm

  42. Imo

  43. Colm

  Epilogue

  Ready for more?

  A Heartfelt Thank You

  1

  Colm

  “Tonight”—I lifted the corked bottle of champagne high above my head—“we drink my sister’s inheritance. Who’s with me?” I popped the cork, and bubbles and booze overflowed from the bottle. Below me, people lifted their glasses to catch the stream of champagne. A part of our trust our parents had left in my capable hands when they died eight years ago was being chugged by people packed into the happy hour bar. If Liv didn’t want to follow our plan, then she didn’t get the money I’d carefully been managing for us.

  Responsible Colm was dying tonight in the bottom of several bottles.

  Setting down the champagne, I ignored the glares from the bartenders and grabbed my bottle of gin. My phone buzzed in my pocket. I grabbed it and checked out the screen.

  Declan.

  More like Decline.

  So he’d been nominated to make first contact.

  Notifications filled the screen.

  Heath. I didn’t feel like hearing any of his wisecracks right now.

  Emmett. I didn’t need him launching into a whole spiel about forgiveness and not being bitter. Maybe I’d take a page out of his book and wait four years to finally figure all this out.

  Ford and Liv. Were they together when they’d called?

  I tilted my head back, pouring a swig of gin before spraying it out over the crowd of people jumping up and down at my feet. How had I never stood on a bar before? This was king of the world insanity right here. Most my teammates had been living it up for years while I’d been playing Dad, sacrificing my own teen years so my little sister… And for what?

  Liv wanted to throw her life away. All the years of hard work, study sessions where we’d sat together going over flashcards at our weekly dinners, practice exams. The hours of science team drills. The free agent position I’d turned down on the west coast to be closer to her. All gone. Poof, up in smoke like that shitty apartment—I’d warned her it was a death trap, but she’d just had to live there.

  My brilliant little sister was disproving her top of her class GPA by throwing it all away to be a dance teacher. Out of nowhere. People don’t study their asses off the way she did—the way I helped her to—to wake up one day and decide to throw their future away for a hobby. I didn’t understand. The only thing that had really changed was Ford swooping in and blowing up her life like the ticking time bomb he was. I wasn’t going to help her destroy the future we’d spent years working towards. She could do it without the money our parents had set aside for her and given me control over.

  Old responsible Colm was dead. No more reservations. No more playing by the rules. No more not getting shitfaced because Liv might need me. No more rushing back home or to wherever she was for dance recitals or finals week. No more always being the one who didn’t get to have a wild college experience or wade through the mania that it meant to be a pro hockey player. I’d always been that guy everyone could count on.

  Fuck that. I was going to live it the hell up. Now it was my turn for a little bad behavior.

  The season started in ten weeks, and I’d spend the rest of that time partying like I never had before. Drowning every bit of the old me in overflowing bottles of booze and the company of strangers who didn’t give a shit about me or my tragic past.

  I took another gulp of my gin. It was a smooth, clean burn. Not whiskey like I usually drank. Ford loved whiskey and I wanted to rip his head off with my bare hands right now; I didn’t need to drink his damn booze all night long as a reminder. And I also wasn’t going to think about him—shit, too late. Maybe I’d had one too many. Nah, not possible. I signaled to the bartender to set up another round.

  He eyed me up and down, shaking his head and grabbing more glasses, and took a step back from the horde ready to take advantage of the free drinks racking up on my lengthening tab.

  The way my knee had felt all spring while I’d rehabbed it in California had nothing on the raw ache in my chest. Twelve weeks of intensive physiotherapy to get me to where I was now, standing on the bar. The king of the drunks. I’d take that recovery cakewalk all over again compared to this.

  Ford screwed my sister. Went behind my back when I asked him to look after her and moved in on her. For some reason, I’d thought because she was my only family it would be different. That my best friend—already on rocky ground—would protect my family instead of moving in on my baby sister.

  And Liv chose him over her only family. After everything she and I had been through. They’re both so willing to take this chance on whatever infatuation they have going on and damn the consequences. And what happens when their ‘love’ blows up? Liv’s crushed and I have to hate Ford forever. Ford’s totally fine putting Liv’s heart on the line after his history. And Liv didn’t seem to care one bit about jeopardizing my friendship with him after we’d barely repaired it.

  After everything I’d held back from doing and how much I’ve sacrificed for her since our parents died, she saw nothing wrong with taking my best friend away from me and throwing away the future we’d both worked so hard for.

  Losing our parents, keeping our family of two together while I was in college and then turned pro, always sacrificing for her and giving her the best. After all the sacrifices I’ve made, she turned her back on me like we were strangers on the street, choosing someone she’s known for a few short years over me. Because of Ford. It’s always Ford. Ford stole my once imagined happily ever after by banging my almost-fiancée, and now he’s stealing the future my sister worked so hard and sacrificed so much for —hell that I’d worked and sacrificed for—where Liv becomes a doctor like our parents. Where she’s able to do the kind of good they had and save lives every day on the job.

  “Hey, are you Colm Frost?” The woman draped herself across the bar, tugging on my pant leg.

  “No,” I bit out, taking another swig straight from the bottle. “Fucking hate that guy.”

  “Oh.” Her startled response was quickly smoothed over with a wide grin. “Then who are you?” She shoved her arm
s under her chest, pushing her tits up even higher in her dress. There’d be a nip slip before long, if she wasn’t careful.

  “Does it matter? You want some of this?” I gestured to the bottle in my hand.

  She nodded, opening her mouth.

  I tipped the bottle, pouring the clear contents into her open mouth. She caught it like a pro. Like this wasn’t her first rodeo with unexpected liquids blasting her in the face.

  Servers came out with trays filled with drinks that disappeared before they made it two steps. Everyone lifted their glasses to me, screaming out their progressively inebriated thanks.

  Standing up on the bar lost some of its charm after the initial high of blowing through a few thousand dollars.

  I jumped down, keeping hold of my bottle, and found myself swarmed by people not wanting the free alcohol gravy train to end. Their fake smiles and faker interest in me made the hollowness inside feel even deeper. Maybe I should’ve stayed home. But home was empty—filled with no one and nothing but shelves lined with photographs featuring people who didn’t give a shit about me.

  Everything was too loud now. Was this the seventh drink I’d downed or was it the eighth? Hard to calculate when you’re drinking straight from the bottle.

  Everyone around me laughed, jockeying for position at my sides. The poor people who’d come in for some bar snacks and a drink to unwind after a hard day’s work were being overrun by the bar crowd I’d unleashed with a no-limit credit card and a host of bad ideas for the night.

  Noise pulsed through the club like an ever-growing beast. Bottles being put back into their recessed lighting-lined shelves. An overwhelming swarm of voices buzzing around in my head. I needed to be way drunker to get through the night.

  When was the last time I’d eaten something? Food was overrated, plus it all turned into sawdust in my mouth. Time was complicated. My girlfriend had left me weeks ago. My sister had turned her back on me less than seventy-two hours ago. My best friend had set our shared history on fire at the same time. Living my best life for sure.

  More gin.

  Sitting alone in my house had driven me nearly to the point of madness. I’d been staring at four walls the whole time I was in LA, but now my leg wasn’t useless. Bailey, the team trainer, had gloated the entire time I was in Philly before they shipped me off to rehab my knee, about being right and calling my injury from the first game she’d watched me play.

  No, I hadn’t listened to her about changing my workout plans. I’d learned my lesson. Now my knee was stronger than ever, there wouldn’t be any more issues, and next season, I’ll be a fire breathing dragon out on the ice.

  For now, I’d breathe gin fumes in any bar that would have me, surrounded by people who loved a free drink and didn’t care where it came from.

  I’d destroy anything in my way and I wasn’t apologizing for it. This was what I needed to do—now that I was alone. Hockey was what I lived and breathed. What would keep me going.

  How could he do that to me?

  I’m not supposed to be thinking about it, but fuck! Ford waltzes in and derails my driven little sister from her life’s purpose.

  But he’s all about destroying futures, like when he swooped in and took my fiancée from me. Just like he swooped the fuck in and stole that hottie from my English seminar right from under my nose sophomore year of college. At this point, it was my fault for even still being friends with him. That friendship had sailed, crashed into an iceberg, caught on fire, been attacked by torpedoes and sat as a wreck at the bottom of the ocean.

  I tipped my bottle over and a few droplets splattered onto the bar. Holding up another finger, I signaled to the bartender. That’s what I needed to be right now. Drunk as hell.

  The bartender eyed me again. I pointed to my black card sitting on top of the register. His gaze darted from my card to me. He grimaced and nodded. That’s what I thought.

  So many voices and bodies invaded my space, I could barely keep anything they were saying straight. Come back to their table. Order bottle service. Let’s go dancing. Was there a room we could go back to for some privacy?

  Tonight wasn’t the night to bring anyone home. Tonight was the night to put the old me to bed, and not with a woman who only cared about how much I was spending on strangers in the bar. The bartender handed me another bottle of Bombay Sapphire. Tomorrow I’d wake up and know this was a mistake, but tonight—tonight, I didn’t give a fuck.

  Shoving my hands against the bar, I pushed myself back up on top. “Who’s ready for another round?” I yelled. Popping the top off the bottle, I poured out a few more drinks into waiting mouths and glasses.

  A gaggle of women from the back of the bar were leaving. It was all purses and limbs, heads thrown back cackling with the laughter of a Girls’ Nite as they made their way toward me and the front of the place. They hadn’t rushed up for the free drinks being poured non-stop for the past hour.

  “Colm?” The word shot through me like a crack of smelling salts. Her voice sliced through the clambering crowd even though she wasn’t yelling, but it was her hair that confirmed what I’d already known. It wasn’t blonde so much as white, like a glowing beacon. “What are you doing here?” She stared up at me.

  Suddenly, being up on the bar didn’t mean I was playing the bankrolling big shot. It meant I was a selfish asshole and she was seeing it. Fuck, not here when I’m so damn drunk. I blinked, trying to clear the mirage of her away.

  Her bright white hair and light blue eyes were just like I’d remembered them. Her eyebrows dipped low, but she stayed back, not trying to push forward to the front of the bar, like she knew I couldn’t not look at her.

  My body tingled and it wasn’t the booze this time. How long had it been since I’d seen her? Six months? How long had it been since that night on the beach? Almost five years. Five years since I’d opened my big mouth and proposed. What the hell was wrong with me?

  Blinking at her, I shook my head trying to clear the fog in my brain.

  “You guys go ahead,” she called out to the women’s handbag section of Target.

  “Hey, Imogen.” I climbed down off the bar, nowhere near as smoothly as I had the two other times. How long had I been slurring my words? “What are you doing here?”

  “Where are the guys?” She craned her neck, surveying the bustling bar, checking for anyone else ready to jump up and start making it rain.

  “Don’t care.” They’d taken Ford’s side, telling me to calm down and that I was wrong to cut Liv off. They didn’t understand. They’d never understand. Their little olive branch of an invite to play with them tomorrow was one I wanted them to shove up their asses, but, whatever, I’d go. I could use the workout after wrecking my body tonight. My penance. At least they’d said Ford wasn’t going to be there.

  Imo’s eyebrows shot way up. She had the most expressive face. I’d thought the same thing that night she looked up at me from the sand on that Jersey Shore beach and the moonlight caught her tropical ocean blue eyes.

  “Should I call Liv?” Her gaze darted past me like she was looking for someone to pawn me off onto. Worry and concern radiated off her.

  “No,” I bit out, barely keeping myself together.

  “Colm.” She looked at me and cupped her hand to the side of my face. “Come with me.”

  Her fingers clasped mine and she pulled me through the throngs of people like they weren’t even there, around the side of the bar and down the small dimly lit hallway. She didn’t hesitate, not even when she pushed through the door with the women’s bathroom symbol on it.

  I tried to dig my heels in, but, damn, she was strong.

  She didn’t drop my hand until the door slammed shut. “Where’s everyone else?” Her arms were crossed over her chest and she stared into my eyes like she was trying to peel back layers of my soul.

  “No idea. They didn’t feel like coming out.” I shrugged, trying to play at nonchalant, but feeling like I’d been sent to the principal’s office.
>
  “So, you decided to come out alone, get up on the bar, and blow through a bunch of money like you guys just won the cup?”

  “It’s my money to blow. What the hell do you care?” I’d been the careful guy trying to set a good example for my little sister for as long as I could remember. The dutiful son always doing the right thing trying to make sure I lived a life worth—nope, I wasn’t going there.

  Imogen’s head snapped back. The intensity of her stare made my skin tingle as if her fingers were brushing against my skin. Something beyond the clash of emotions in my head was stirring with her touch. Something hungrier.

  “Are you okay?” She placed a hand on my shoulder, standing toe to toe with me.

  “I’m fine. Why do you ask?” I worked hard to keep the syllables from slurring together into a string of gibberish.

  Her thumb brushed along my cheek and she tilted her head, bringing it closer to mine. Her soft lips parted slightly. “You’re crying.”

  I jerked my head back like she’d slapped me for getting so close, and ran my fingers across my face. They came away wet. Fuck! What the hell was wrong with me? I turned to the mirror and saw myself looking like a prom date who’d been stood up, set down the bottle I hadn’t even realized I was still holding, and splashed handfuls of water on my face.

  I stared back at myself, my eyes ringed with red. Some paper towels were shoved into my line of sight. Without looking at her, I grabbed them and scrubbed at my face like I could wipe away the embarrassment.

 
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