Power Play (Nashville Assassins: Next Generation Book 2)

by Toni Aleo

  “Not the first time I’ve heard that.”

  “And you don’t want to let anyone get close.”

  “Neither do you.” I shrug.

  He doesn’t look at me as he hit the start button on our game. “So, good talk.”

  “Real good talk.”

  Like the men we are, we start our game and leave our relationship issues behind us. I won’t lie, though; Julia is on my mind, and I wish she weren’t. I do hate that she is in a relationship and getting married to someone else. I wanted that to be me, not to be the one who was hurt by her, but that isn’t the case. She gets to hurt people and be happy. It isn’t fair. Which I guess means Wes is right. I haven’t moved on. But that doesn’t feel right. I don’t want Julia, but I really don’t want anyone else either. No one has caught my eye or made me want to be close. To move on.

  Maybe I’m not even trying.

  Or maybe no one has given me a reason to try.

  There is a knock at the front door before it opens, and our buddy and linemate, Aiden Brooks, comes into the living room. “Who’s moving?”

  “Whore ex-fiancée,” I answer as Wes’s and my characters do a dance after winning.

  “No shit. Was that the bastard Phil?”

  Wes nods. “Yup, but we can’t kick his ass. Mama Hoenes said so.”

  “Well, that sucks,” Aiden says before dropping down beside Wes. “It’d be an easy ass-kicking anyway. Pretty sure Shelli could kick his ass.”

  I scoff. “Shelli could beat all of us up. They don’t call her Slap Shot Shelli for nothing.”

  Wes chuckles as Aiden smiles proudly. “I only get the loving side of that woman.”

  We both laugh at that. Sure, he gets the loving side of his beautiful fiancée, but Shelli Adler also does not take his shit. She is fierce and strong, knows what she wants. Lucky for Aiden, she wants him. “Sure, you do,” I tease, and he flashes me a cheeky grin.

  “On the topic of my soon-to-be bride. We set a date.”

  Both Wes and I look up. Word on the street was they were going to wait awhile before they got married. There was no rush, Shelli is on the younger side, and they didn’t need to be married to be happy. Apparently that isn’t the case anymore?

  When neither of us says another word, Aiden realizes we’re waiting. “Oh, next summer. July.”

  “Cool,” Wes says, hitting start once more. “I’ll be there.”

  “Yup, just make sure the bar is stacked,” I say as I look back to the game.

  Aiden chortles a bit before leaning on the sofa. “Um, so my brother is going to be my best man, but I was wondering if you two would be my groomsmen.”

  I look up just as Wes does, and I hit the pause button. “Don’t you have better friends than us?” I ask, and Aiden grins.

  “I like you guys more. We’re the McBroenes line.”

  I want to roll my eyes. I hate the nickname the announcers have given our line. We couldn’t be the “badass Assassins top line motherfuckers” or something awesome like that? No. They smushed our last names together, and boom, a nickname was born. So stupid.

  “I feel closer to you guys than I do some of the guys I grew up with.”

  I can’t hate on him for it. I like him and Wes more than anyone else too. Most of the guys tease us because we spend so much time together, but we just click. Probably why we’re such badass motherfuckers on the ice. See? The name fits!

  Wes slaps him on the back. “Yeah, bro. I got you.”

  Aiden beams at him before looking over at me.

  “If you still like me then, yeah, I guess.”

  “Please don’t sound excited.”

  I chuckle as I lean back, propping my ankle on my knee. “I am. Hopefully, there are some hot-ass bridesmaids. Who we got?”

  “Her cousin, Amelia, and Allison Titov, and then her sister, Posey, who—hey, did you guys hear—might be our new assistant coach for special teams?”

  I perk a brow, and Wes nods. “I did hear talk, but I thought she said no?”

  “Yeah, since she thought she was going to Colorado for some guy. But he didn’t want her like we all told her he didn’t, and now she’s back. There is really no reason for her not to take the job. She’s a genius playmaker,” Aiden says, and Wes points to him.

  “Don’t we use some of her plays now?”

  He nods. “Yeah, but Titov wants to bring her in full time.”

  “Cool. If she’s good, we can use her. Our power play is a little wack right now,” I say honestly. I can’t place Shelli’s sister. I’m sure I must have met her, but if she’s anything like her sister, I would remember. Shelli is an iron fist in a velvet glove. A little fairy who could snap your neck. I hear all the Adler kids are like that, though. Dream-chasing badasses.

  “It’s not too bad,” Aiden says as he stands. “But it can be better.”

  “Sure can,” Wes says as they shake hands, and then Aiden stops in front of me, shaking mine.

  “You out of here?” I ask.

  “Yeah. Shelli is on the phone with her mom in the car, which is why she didn’t come in. We’re going to dinner.”

  I waggle my brows at him. “I could eat.”

  He shakes his head, grinning. “Nope, I’m wining and dining my girl for some freaky stuff tonight,” he says with a wink, and then he heads out.

  “Is it bad that I’m jealous he gets freaky stuff tonight?” I ask as I glance over at Wes.

  He rolls his eyes. “It pisses me off that we’re friends with him, and because of that, I can’t mess with his sister.”

  I nod then point to him. “I’ll let you have that.”

  “Good. But I’m not letting you have the jealousy shit. You can have the freaky stuff. You just gotta find someone to be freaky with.”

  “Seems like you have,” I say with a nod, and he glares. “If Stella wants you, I’m sure Aiden would be cool with it.”

  He looks toward the TV, ending our conversation. “Good talk.”

  “Real good talk.”

  I’m not sure it was a good talk, wasn’t very productive, but one thing is for sure.

  I may have to put myself out there before I start dwelling on my ex-fiancée again.

  More so than I already am.

  Chapter Three

  Posey

  I’m pretty sure I am mirroring a scene from Lilo and Stitch.

  But instead of Elvis, I’m listening to Lewis Capaldi’s “Someone You Loved.”

  On repeat.

  There are tears in my eyes and streaks of past tears along the sides of my face. My nose is inflamed from rubbing it and all the snot. My heart hurts, my stomach aches, and my body feels heavy.

  I am dead inside.

  I’m unsure if I’m crying because I made a total fool of myself and flew all the way to Colorado to profess my love for a man who didn’t love me, or if I’m crying because he didn’t feel the same and I was convinced he did. Either way, my good mate Lewis is singing to my soul. Or making it worse. Not sure. The jury is still out.

  It all just burns, though. I’ve been home for a couple weeks now, and I still find myself having moments when I need Lewis to sing my pain. I can’t seem to forget the look on Maxim’s face when I admitted to being in love with him. The rejection he so easily delivered. Seeing my total opposite stand in his house and in his arms once I left. It didn’t even seem like Maxim cared that I loved him. He didn’t love me, and it was that simple. Why would he, though, when he could have someone like Stella Brooks? Super-hot model or kinda chunky tomboy? It’s a clear choice, I guess. But man if I didn’t want him to feel what I felt for him.

  On an exhale, I close my eyes and press my palms into my chest, singing loudly and with all the heartache I assume Lewis is feeling too. I want to believe I’m not in love with Maxim anymore. It isn’t like we ever kissed or had sex, nothing of the sort, but I miss him. I do know that feeling. My craving for him is bone-deep. Our jokes, our similar likes, the time we spent together on the ice; it was nice. He w
as great, fun, and I miss him. I do. I just hate the rejection coursing through my veins. The first time I ever put myself out there for a guy, and it blew up in my face.

  Exploded, really.

  The scars from it, they’re invisible, but I feel them burn.

  It isn’t only Maxim’s rejection that has left scars; it’s the pure humiliation of coming home with my tail between my legs. I didn’t actually tell any of my family I went—well, I told Ally, but no one else—but they all found out once my uncle Jakob dropped the bomb. Everyone knew Maxim didn’t care for me the way I did him, so of course I got a chorus of “I told you so” once I arrived home. Even though I am almost twenty-two years old, my parents scolded me like I was a child. I am aware that I live with them, that they paid for my school, and they also pay for a lot of the things I am doing right now because I am between jobs. That alone should have afforded them the consideration of being told where I was going, but I wanted to follow my heart. I wanted so badly for Maxim to love me and for us to start a life together, but I’m realizing that kind of stuff only happens in romance books. The kind my mom’s life is based on. I wanted my parents’ happily ever after, and well, I didn’t even get the prologue.

  I got the sad, depressing version that I’m starting to think is actually my love life. I haven’t had much luck. I feel I can blame this one on Shelli. With us so close in age, we ran with the same people. Everyone always saw Shelli—How could they not? She’s a star—but it wasn’t the same for me. Unfortunately, I was used to get closer to my sister. The guys I liked usually liked my sister instead. The boyfriends I did have weren’t really into me, and as soon as I wouldn’t put out, they’d dump me. I’ve known this my whole life, yet I still stayed close to my sister. She was my buffer. I got to experience life, but I didn’t have to make it happen. She did, and I rode along beside her.

  When she went off to Broadway, I didn’t have my buffer anymore. One would think that would push me into the spotlight where my siblings lived. But instead, I stayed in the background, almost like a recluse. I didn’t go to prom. I didn’t go to homecomings. I wasn’t the super-popular kid like Shelli; I was the loner writing in my journal in the back. I’d think of plays for the next hockey game, and when I showed them to my coach, who was always my dad, he’d gush over me and use them at practice.

  I yearned for that approval. For once, I had something special about me. I was amazing, so I became obsessed with how the game worked. I spent hours upon hours watching footage with my mom and dad. I’d suggest ideas, and most of the time, they were taken to the coaches. I guess it was for the best since it’s what I want to do for a living, but because of that interest, I didn’t make much time for a social life. Which is the reason I flew to profess my love for a guy who obviously only saw me as a friend. If I had spent more time around people my age and put myself out there, I would have known that. Instead, here we are.

  Sing it, Capaldi.

  I press my hand into my stomach as I sing, the words hitting home. I let my guard down for Maxim. I was myself, and it was beautiful. I love how he helped me escape into that person. I felt so free. We were beautiful, but then he left. Without a care in the world. He was chasing his dreams, and I wasn’t supposed to be a part of them.

  The door flies open, and my baby brother, Quinn, comes in with his arms up, singing the chorus as he acts out the song. Banging his fist to his chest, throwing his hands up, the whole nine yards. As if he wrote the song for the woman who wronged him. Exactly like how I want to do it, but I refrain. I close my eyes as he sings with Lewis, and when the song ends, Quinn falls onto my bed. I feel him looking down at me since I’m on the floor, and when the song restarts, I hear him make a noise of contempt.

  “I love this song.”

  “Me too,” I answer groggily.

  “The first nine hundred times you played it. I now hate it.”

  I won’t apologize. “You know where the door is.”

  “Wow, this is very Lilo of you.”

  He has always gotten me. Since Shelli was always off doing something and the twins were each other’s best friend, Quinn and I spent a lot of our downtime together. Plus, I’m the only one who would babysit his ass. He doesn’t sit still for long, is constantly trying to cut open a frog, and yeah, he’s an interesting dude.

  “I thought so,” I answer on an exhale. “Please leave.”

  “Naw. I feel you need some company.”

  “I don’t,” I promise, squeezing my eyes shut. “I just want to be left alone.”

  “Everyone is worried.”

  “I doubt that,” I say softly, and I’m sure he can’t hear me over the volume of Lewis. “I’m not Shelli.”

  “Oh, come on. Don’t be like that. Everyone loves you, even if you don’t want to feel that right now,” he suggests, and I shrug. “Don’t let what happened with Maxim come out as no one loving you. That’s not the case, and you know it. Everyone loves you, more than you know, but we get it, you’re just upset.”

  He is spot-on, but right now, I don’t want to hear that. I want to think that the reason I feel this way isn’t because I was rejected, but because no one loves me. That I am alone and pathetic. It’s way better than accepting the rejection of the person I loved. I open my eyes slowly, wiping under them before looking over at my brother. We look a lot alike, though his hair is more black than auburn. Quinn isn’t as thick as me either, slim like my dad. All the boys are thin, though Evan is a little thicker. Makes him look scary, which is great for the ice. “Why doesn’t he love me?”

  Quinn reaches over, squeezing my shoulder. “Because he couldn’t see the perfection before him.” Leave it to my brother to bring on a new round of tears. “But you knew this, and you still continued to try to get him to like you. And Posey, it wasn’t you. You were trying too hard to be a version of someone he wanted instead of being yourself. You are amazing. Just you.”

  I blink. “How are you so wise but such a pain in the ass?”

  “I really don’t know. It’s kinda kooky up here,” he says, pointing to his head. “But I also watch a lot of Dr. Phil when I get home and on the way to games. Ellen got me into it.”

  I grin as I wipe my face. “I just wanted so badly for him to love me.”

  “Eh, I never saw it.”

  I perk my brow. “You didn’t?”

  “No,” he says simply, leaning on his knees. “Like, I love looking at Ellen. She is beautiful and stunning, and she’s funny, ya know? I felt like you were a means to an end for Maxim. He needed to learn English, and you could help his game. I think you were never gonna break in to the category of someone who could be more to him.”

  I blink once more. Utterly confused as to how my seventeen-year-old brother is schooling me on my love life right now. I’ll give it to him—he’s been dating Ellen since his seventh-grade year, and she’s amazing—but is it pathetic that I’m jealous of him? Hell, of her?

  “You’re better than this, sis. Seriously. Get up. Go forth in life. You have the world at your feet. It’s an oyster, and you are the clam—”

  “Please God, stop,” I beg as I shut off my phone, putting a stop to Lewis. I clear my throat and wipe my face once more before I sit up. When I glance over at Quinn, he’s grinning from ear to ear. “I guess I should eat.”

  “I feel it’s a good idea.”

  “Is Mom still mad?”

  “That you used her credit card to fly to Colorado? Just a bit.”

  “And Dad?”

  “Oh yeah. He’s pissed and real glad he sent Maxim away.”

  I exhale heavily, replaying it all. Was it worth it? The rejection and the scolding from my family? I want to say no. I gained literally nothing from telling him how I felt. Yet, I know if I hadn’t, I would always have that “what-if.” Now there is no “what-if.” Maxim doesn’t want anything from me, and there is nothing more to it. Like Quinn said, I think I always knew too, which is the sad part. There were times when Maxim could have kissed me, when I
wanted him to, but he didn’t. We shared a bed together, yet he never copped a feel. I would change in front of him—yeah, I had my bra on—but still, nothing.

  Fuck, I knew the entire time, but I still went after him.

  “Maybe I ignored the signs because of how bad I wanted him to love me.”

  “You did,” he says matter-of-factly as he hands me a tissue. “But it’s cool. I’m glad you did it. For the first time, you put yourself out there, and I’m proud of you.”

  My lips quirk. “You are?”

  “Yeah, and I’m going to be even prouder of you when you get up and go eat something. Face Mom and Dad.”

  I sigh. I’ve done a damn good job hiding out in my room. The boys have been bringing me dinner, and neither parent has said anything. I think they needed the time to cool off, and I needed the time to mourn. I swallow hard once more and get up slowly. “Are they in the kitchen?”

  “Yup. Dad is begging Mom to make some fried chicken and corn bread for dinner, but you know, we’re still not being fed carbs around here.”

  We all miss carbs. Desperately. I’m pretty sure that’s why Shelli moved out. Not because she was engaged and all that jazz but because we weren’t being fed carbs. There are no carbs in the house. Not even simple carbs. I mean, can I get a damn potato? I’m still unsure what the damn potato did to my mom, but it is banned from our house until further notice.

  I head out of the room, and once I hit the hall, I can hear my father. “Elli, baby. I’m dying. I am a man. I need the carbs! Simple or complex. I’ll take them all.”

  “Shea, the sugar is killing us! It is causing cancer. It messes with your glucose.”

  My father groans at this. “I said simple ones, Elli. Just give me some potatoes. Anything.”

  “No, Shea, I am taking care of our family. Carbs are the devil!”

  “At one time, you told me calories were the devil. I’m so fucking tired of diets and counting calories. Everything is causing cancer, Elli. Hell, if I’m going down, let me go down full of carbs and happiness. And please, the same goes for you, because I love your round ass, and I don’t want it to change. Eat some fucking carbs, please. Come on, we can get fat and happy together.”