by Toni Aleo
“Best movie ever,” Benji proclaims, and then he stands, holding up his stick. “They may take away our lives, but they’ll never take our freedom!”
The guys all chortle as I shoot him a dry look. “Are you done?”
Benji shakes his head. “I could quote that movie all day.”
“Can you do that and score?”
Benji thinks that over. “For you, I can, William Wallace.”
I blink, confused.
“He’s the main Scottish dude. Blue face?”
“Ah,” I say, nodding. “Sorry, I watch hockey in my free time,” I say, jabbing him with my blade, and he laughs.
Vaughn raises his hand. “Is there a trainer here, though? My hip has been a bitch lately.”
Phillip points to Vaughn in agreement. “What he said. I was throwing my grandson up and down the other day, and I think I threw out my back. Have y’all seen Harrison? He’s a little fat thing—I don’t know what Claire is feeding him.”
Erik scoffs. “It’s probably Jude. That dude doesn’t stop eating.”
“A-fucking-men. I can’t stand when he, Jace, and Jayden come to the house. They’re just so hungry all the time, and then add in their kids, and Lucy and I are broke,” Benji laments, and I raise an eyebrow.
“I highly doubt that, with her successful home design company,” I say, and he smiles proudly.
“True. But remember, our daughter just got into a pretty awesome program in Carolina, and we’re paying room and board.”
I forgot Angie had just left for bigger and better things, but as I go to answer him, Aiden calls, “Hey, seasoned legends. You guys ready, or do you want to cancel and head on up to the YMCA for y’all to sit around, eat bagels, and drink coffee?”
I glare over my shoulder at Aiden. “I’m going to lay your kid out.”
Lucas shakes his head. “Not if I get to him first.”
When I notice that Boon is laughing a little too hard, I set him with a look. “Hoenes, Posey isn’t here to protect you, buddy!”
He presses his lips together, but his eyes are full of wicked playfulness. “Bring it, Adler.”
Ha. This is going to be fun. “Let’s go.”
We hired a couple refs, mostly guys that like me and not Aiden, but he doesn’t know that. Aiden is a good hockey player, but he’s chippy, and he talks a lot of shit when the puck doesn’t go his way or he thinks a call is shit. Figured the current team might be faster than some of us, so I needed to get refs who can ignore my dirty play.
As everyone gets into position, I skate back to Jensen, tapping his pad. “Glad you guys could come. We’ve missed you. It’s great seeing Wren and the kids.”
We both look to where his wife, Wren, their son, Gunner, and daughter, Carley, sit. But then all I see is Tate’s son. Just like his dad, he’s huge, looking like an ice king with blond hair and blue eyes. He took completely after Tate, has idolized his dad his whole life. He is sitting behind the goal, leaning on his legs, waiting for his dad to hit the ice. I bet he doesn’t remember seeing his dad play since he was so young. Man, what an amazing moment it’s going to be to see the great Odder hit the ice again. I just hope he doesn’t throw anything out trying to keep his nephew from scoring.
“Yeah, moving to Canada has been a huge change for everyone, but we’re adjusting. I’m just glad they came back here with me.”
“They wouldn’t miss seeing their dad play again.” I smile as he stretches to the right. “But how is Canada? You like it?”
“I do. It’s home. Carley hates it, but Gunner is thriving in the hockey world. He loves it.”
“That’s awesome, man,” I say, tapping my stick to his pad once more. “Elli told me that a little birdie told her you guys were looking at maybe trying again?”
He beams. “We’re pregnant. We just found out that the itty-bitty amount of sperm I was able to make made the journey!”
Shit, maybe we should go to the YMCA. We should be talking about how we’re going to kill these guys, not how Jensen’s sperm finally made a baby. He’s a killer goalie, but his sperm is weak, unfortunately.
Again, not something that should matter right now.
He grins at me through his mask as I set up opposite Alex. This is insane. It feels like it’s been centuries since we’ve shared that “let’s do this” look, but at the same time, it feels like only yesterday. There wasn’t a moment in my young career when Alex didn’t mentor me. He has always been my best friend, even from afar, off in Canada, doing emu farm things or whatever is it. Goats? I don’t know, don’t care, because we belong on the ice.
Together.
Alex nods to me as I do the same to him before moving my gaze to where Aiden and Lucas have lined up for the puck.
“When I school you, don’t be embarrassed, okay?” Aiden asks as Boon and their buddy McMillan all snicker like little boys.
“Aiden James, remember this moment when I tell you how proud I am to be your father—but also when I knock you into next month.”
They both grin at each other, and I lean on my stick, waiting for the puck to drop. When it does, the crowd roars when Lucas wins it over his son.
“I let you do that!”
“Is that what you tell Shelli when she schools you?” Lucas asks as he sends it to Vaughn, who starts to carry it up the ice. He’s slower than he used to be, but that doesn’t stop him from weaving in and around the players who respect him. For the longest time, Vaughn held the record for the highest goals on our team, but then Aiden Brooks came along, and well…Vaughn doesn’t anymore. Vaughn shoots hard on Peca, the Assassins’ goalie, but like the ninja he is, he bats it away. Lucas rushes for the puck just as Aiden and Boon do. I see it happening before it does, so I speed toward the situation to save my friend. Aiden squishes him into the boards, and Boon helps, fighting for the puck. The hit wasn’t as hard as it could have been, but I’m sure he’ll be feeling it tomorrow. Lucas gets the puck out somehow, sending it to me, and I whip my stick back, leaning my whole body into it before I release hard like I used to.
And just like how I used to do it, I completely miss the net, and it hits the glass hard.
I cringe, already hearing Elli’s mouth before Lucas gets the puck and sends it over to Titov. I stand at the point, but when Erik tries to pass it, it’s sloppy and slow. Within seconds, Boon has it, and he’s hauling ass down the ice. Not while I’m on the ice, though. I put on the jet engines—which some may say are clogged with dead birds and other crap and is why I’m slower than before. I get to him, though, lifting his stick with mine. He throws his shoulder into mine, trying to push me away, but that’s not happening. I lean down, getting real deep, and throw my shoulder hard into Boon’s. Not only do I knock him off the play, but he flies a solid two feet over the ice before hitting the rink.
The whistle blows, and I throw up my hand. “Embellishment!” I protest.
The ref gives me a look. “You tossed him two feet, Adler.”
“What!” I look down at where Boon is lying, looking up at the jumbotron. “I didn’t even hit him!”
“Dad!” Posey is leaning on the railing, her belly between the two rails. My baby is pregnant by this jackass. I don’t feel bad. “Really!”
I shrug. “He ran into me.”
“Really! You guys are supposed to play a friendly game.”
Boon holds his hand up to mine, and I smack it away. “Who said that?”
“Mom!”
I shrug my shoulders. “I didn’t hear that. Did you hear that?” I ask the ref as he guides me to the box with a look that says he knows I heard it.
I did.
I’m just choosing to ignore it.
Chapter Three
Second Period
Aiden
“I’m pretty sure Shea knocked me into next week,” Boon complains, rolling his shoulder to relieve the pain in his arm.
“My dad has cup checked me twice. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want grandchildren,” I say with wide eyes, repositioning my
cup to contain my goodies.
Boon looks at me in pure panic. “Hopefully he doesn’t tell Shea that.”
“I wouldn’t put it past him.”
Boon waggles his brows at me. “It’s okay. I have super-strong sperm that burst through condoms and knock my girl up.” Everyone looks over at Boon, and he grins. “True story.”
Peca laughs loudly as he leans his long body out from his locker. “It’s rough out there. These guys aren’t playing.”
Boon exhales loudly. “I think he broke my toe. Do you think Shea kicked me on purpose when we were fighting for the puck?”
“Yes,” Wes and I answer, and we all chuckle together as we lean back in our lockers, taking in soothing breaths. Everyone pretty much mirrors the action, but unlike a real game, we are more relaxed. The guys are joking, bullshitting, and enjoying one another. A lot of our team flew back in from vacation for this, and they plan to fly back out tomorrow before coming back for the wedding. We’re such a huge family, and it means so much to me that my brothers want to be here for me and to celebrate this next chapter in my life.
Marriage.
It seems kind of crazy that it’s finally here. I proposed to Shelli almost a year ago, and I’m ready for her to be Mrs. Shelli Adler-Brooks. Yes, she is keeping her last name, and no, I don’t care. She’s an Adler through and through, as is Posey. But Boon must have this magic dick he keeps talking about, because she quickly changed her name to Hoenes without looking back. Okay, maybe I am a little salty about it.
Eh, who am I kidding. I just want this over. Not the game—I love this; this is a blast—but planning this wedding has been absolute hell. I have never in my life gotten into a fight with someone about flowers. Yes, flowers. I felt the red went better with the whole whimsical theme, but no, it’s the white. I was supposed to choose white. I fought, gave her one hell of a battle over those red roses. But in the end, she held out for a week. She didn’t have sex with me for seven days. She didn’t even kiss me. Just gave me a high five or a smack on the butt that only woke up my cock.
It was completely and out-of-this-world insane, so disrespectful, and I told her so. I don’t think she cared. And you better fucking believe I’ve agreed to everything else about this wedding ever since.
Wes sits beside me, stretching his groin. “Why are we only up by one? We should be beating those dinos.”
Wes isn’t wrong. I think I underestimated my dad and his buddies. For one, I was told this was going to be a fun, friendly, soft-contact game. I was lied to. Shea and my dad have come out of the gate ready to plow me under. Even my uncle Tate is giving me a look that says he’s coming for me. Shea still has one hell of a shot. I got pinged with it in my thigh, and I’m pretty sure I’ll feel it a year from now. I’m also pretty sure Erik Titov hasn’t been in Russia on vacation but instead to play over there, because he’s still fast as hell and has a lethal shot. I should have known better when Monroe got in goal; he’s only been out a little over a year. He’s as badass as he’s always been. Then Phillip Anderson’s got his wicked wrist shot, and Jordie Tomas is ruthless with his hits. They are all still so damn good.
Oh, Karson King—he blocked my shot and sent it up the ice to my dad from his knees.
They are seasoned legends, and I want to be just like them someday. I’ve always wanted to be like them. This is a dream come true, which is why Shelli pushed so hard for it. She knows how much I respect and admire the older Assassins since I grew up watching them. Now…to play against them? It’s unbelievable. The perfect reward for dealing with the woman I fell in love with, who is now a WWE version of Bridezilla. The only thing keeping me from calling off this whole thing is the fact that I love that girl something insane. So damn much.
“I don’t know about you guys, but I have a hard time believing those guys are alumni,” our goalie, Peca, says. “I’ve never in my life felt a shot in my palm like Shea Adler’s. He’s terrifying.”
Boon gives him a look. “Try being married to his daughter.”
Wes nods. “That whole family is terrifying.”
“They aren’t. They’re the best people ever,” I say, grinning. “But that’s because I’m in the inner circle, unlike you guys.”
“How does one come into the circle?” Wes asks, and I look over at him, putting on my helmet.
“Marry in?”
Boon shakes his head. “Nope. I’m still fighting to get in with Shea.”
Wes laughs. “That’s ’cause you’re an idiot. I’m fabulous. Remember, I scored the winning goal for the Stanley Cup during overtime.”
Everyone looks at him with dry, exasperated looks. He doesn’t fucking stop. “We know. We were there.”
“Just making sure,” Wes says with a shrug. “But since I have you remembering the great things about me, are we still a no for me dating your sister?”
Everyone looks at me, amused expressions on their faces. “You know what, Wes? No. We’re a yes for you dating my sister.”
“Seriously!” He gets so excited. “Thank God, because she keeps sending me these looks that say she wants to hook up, and I’m down.”
I swallow hard as I lean in. “No, dumbass. I’m not serious. Touch my sister, and you die.”
“Seriously?”
“Serious as a heart attack, bro,” I say, and everyone laughs, giving Wes a hard time. I don’t know why it bothers me that he wants to date Stella. She’s almost twenty; she can do what she wants. But Wes, he’ll hurt her. I know his past. I know he only wants one thing, and the thought that my sister only wants that same one thing makes me queasy.
Thankfully, though, I don’t have to think much about it because Jayden Sinclair hobbles in on his crutches. He’s our coach since he can’t play due to his injury. “Time to go, boys. Let’s go. I want more pucks on Monroe. Surely he’s getting tired.”
I shake my head as I reach for my stick, and Wes says, “I think he ate his Wheaties.”
“And drank a Monster,” I add.
“Maybe even a Red Bull,” Boon jokes, and then I realize why people call us the three musketeers.
We’re losers.
Thankfully, the second period is a bit slower than the first.
My dad has only cup checked me once, and Shea hasn’t come near Boon at all. Wes scored on Monroe, giving us more of a lead. Everything is opening up now that the alumni are getting tired. They’re gassed out; they may have had that rush of adrenaline at the beginning, but now they’re sucking air and making line changes like crazy. It’s messy and giving us a lot of room. Room to nail those coffins shut. It’s over for them. I can add four more destinations to Shelli’s and my honeymoon since we’ll have a private plane. I’m thinking a stop in Rome and Paris will need to happen.
“Hey.”
I look over my shoulder to find my beautiful bride-to-be. “Hey, you.”
“Hey, slow it down. You guys are making them look bad.”
Wes brings in his brows. “We’re champions. We make everyone look bad.”
The driest look covers Shelli’s face. “If you can bring the cockiness down a bit, that’ll be great.”
“As long as it’s just the cockiness you want brought down, sweetheart,” he says with a wink, and Boon leans over the boards.
“I don’t get it, Wes.”
“You know, like she better not be telling me to keep my cock down.” We both look at him blankly, and then he shrugs. “Yeah, it was a bad joke.”
“So bad,” I agree as I look back up at Shelli. “I mean, we’ve got to win, babe.”
“I know, but they’re trying so hard, and y’all are skating circles around them.”
Wes looks back once more. “Champions,” he says, pointing to all of us before pointing to the other side. “Dinosaurs.”
Pretty sure my bride is about to check my boy’s ass. I hold up my hand. “I hear you.”
She gives me a small smile before heading back up to where her mom and sister are sitting with a bunch of the wives. I don�
�t want to upset her, nor embarrass my dad or my future father-in-law. “Guys, let up a bit. Let them get shots off.”
They don’t argue with me; they know we have this. We’re now up by three. When I hit the ice, I notice my dad is out there too. I get the puck, carrying it up the ice as he tries to block me. It reminds me so much of when I was a kid and he was teaching me how to play. I was awful at all sports except hockey. Dad said it was because I was meant to skate, not be the Bill Buckner of all other sports. I didn’t disagree with him, but the nostalgia of skating beside my dad is astounding. I go to pass it to Boon, who has an opening. But out of nowhere, my dad is there, stealing the puck and skating down like the pro he was. I chase after him, along with Wes and Boon, as he dekes once around a defensemen and then again before going top shelf on Peca.
I’m not really annoyed…until he throws up his arms, grabbing the blade of his stick before thrusting it up and down as he leans back, grinning hard.
Like I do when I score.
This guy.
I glare as he skates toward me, grinning. “Tell Shelli I said thanks.”
My eyes narrow as I look up at Shelli, who is grinning from ear-to-ear before shrugging for forgiveness.
Oh. Oh, it’s on like Donkey Kong.
Chapter Four
Third Period
Lucas
“Should have played the Shelli card this period,” Karson says beside me, and I grin as I nod. “I’m sucking air.”
I try to laugh, but I can’t. I’m winded. I’m dead. Can’t feel my feet, and trying to do my son’s goal dance was a bad idea. When I brought the stick down, I hit my cup, and it pinched my balls. I may have cried a bit. This is a blast. I’m loving every second of it, but I’m pretty sure I’ve left most of my soul on this ice. Then again, it’s always belonged there. This is the only place I could call home other than the house I share with my wife, Fallon, and our girls. Both boys are getting married, and it’s wild that I’m okay with it all.