Chapter 1

W hy do I keep subjecting myself to blind dates and online matches? Maybe because I can't just go out to a bar. I've tried. The women are too young. Too desperate. Too… opportunistic. And that's if I'm not swarmed by bros who want to discuss my NHL stats or my time with the Minnesota Lakes hockey team—especially since they just won the Stanley Cup a week ago. Holding that cup with Barrett was everything.

"So, what do you like to do on the weekends?" I ask.

"Saturdays are usually reserved for my yoga classes, and sometimes, I'll meet up with friends in the evening to see live music or something. On Sundays, I attend church and have dinner with my parents. It's sort of a weekly tradition, a nice wind down before starting the work week."

"That's cool. You must be close with your family."

Katherine offers a forced smile. She's a beautiful woman with brown hair and blue eyes. Her wardrobe is appropriate and put together. She seems like she has her shit together. "Yeah, we've always been really tight. What about you?"

"My brother lives a few states away, so we don't see each other as often as we'd like. We both have busy schedules."

This is the third time I've had this conversation this week. How do people handle having the same conversations day after day? Reciting the same boring, rote bullshit over and over again. It's madness. What are your hobbies? What music genres do you enjoy? Where did you grow up? Do you have a big family? Do you have kids? Pets?

We sit opposite each other at a small table while dining on Italian cuisine. My eyes are drawn to the dancing flame from the candle on the table. The food is terrific, the wine is excellent. The woman across from me is lovely… She's nice and pretty and says the right things, but there's no spark. I can't imagine staring at her the way my best friend, Barrett, stares at his wife, Raleigh.

One thing's for sure, the dating pool is a lot smaller the older you get. My career was my focus for most of my life—I have zero regrets; I love hockey. It's in my blood and my bones. Plays and strategies haunt my dreams at night. Even now, on a date, my mind slips to the game when I find myself staring at that damn candle for too long.

Retiring was one of the hardest things I ever did, but my body was ready, and I didn't want to be the player who didn't know when it was time to hang up his skates. Do I miss hockey? More than anything. I'd never admit it out loud, but there's been a hole in my life since leaving. I tried traveling, golf, knocking things off my bucket list, and hoped a partner would provide me with some closure the way it did for Barrett. But I've yet to find someone to calm that storm inside me, the one that drags me out of bed every morning and has me lacing up my skates and heading to the arena.

Last year, I was offered a full-time commentary spot on a television panel, but that's not for me, I want to be in front of the action. I want to feel the bite of cool air on my face and breathe in the fresh scent of ozone right after the Zamboni turns the ice to glass.

I'd love to find someone who's more interested in the sport than in the fact I played it professionally. I've only ever desired simplicity, someone who fits with my life and vice versa. I want to find my person. A friend. An equal partner. For life.

Barrett loves to give me shit because I want to meet someone but don't want to meet people to do it. Maybe it's me? Am I dull? I'd like someone who prefers staying in and binging Netflix to going to a nightclub. Enjoys letting me cook for them rather than being seen on my arm at the new opening of some trendy restaurant. A woman who'll bring me a cold beer when I'm done mowing the lawn. Normalcy.

I could have that with Katherine, across from me. Nothing's wrong with her, she's lovely, she's just not my person.

Dating is hard, even when the woman looks like a sure thing on paper, if the connection isn't there, it doesn't matter how perfect we'd be. The whole endeavor is frustrating as fuck. Maybe it's time to put this whole dating thing on hold.

After our plates are taken away and the wine is gone, I pay the bill and we head our separate ways.

I'm not hers either .

"Man, I told you, I'm taking a break from dating."

I open the fridge and grab a beer, then an opener from a drawer and pop the top off.

"Look, I get it, but—" Rhys says.

"Actually, you don't… Sorry, bud. I'm retired and almost twice your age. You have no idea how hard it is out here. Dating sucks." I pace the floor as Rhys tries to convince me to meet up with one of his wife's friends.

He sighs. "Yeah, okay. You're right about—" There's shuffling in the background before his wife, Micky, cuts in. "Sully?"

Here we go. "Hey Mick," I say, sighing. "Gotta give you props for turning Rhys into your errand boy."

"Who knew he was so good at begging, right?"

A sharp crack echoes through the phone, and she shrieks.

I roll my eyes. "I'm hanging up now—" I don't need to hear this.

"No, wait! Just give me a second!" Micky shouts.

My fingers pinch the bridge of my nose. "You've got a minute."

"I need you to have dinner with Kendra—"

"Already told Rhys I'm taking a break from dating."

"Do I get my minute or not?"

My head falls back, and I stare at the ceiling and shut my mouth, giving her a chance to plead her case. After a beat, she continues. "It's not a date. Well, the dinner with Kendra isn't, at least. She's producing a new dating show. But hear me out, it uses AI to find your perfect match. It's based on real-life compatibility instead of just interests and shit. They had a guy, but he backed out last minute. I told her you would sit down with her. You don't have to agree to anything! All I'm asking is for you to get a free drink and listen to her pitch. If you still aren't interested by the end of the meeting, just say no. It's not a big deal. But please, she needs this. It's her show, and it's going to get scrapped if they can't get a solid replacement. She's worked really hard for this and deserves to see it through."

I blow out an exasperated breath. "Micky, this is the first and last time you ever agree to anything on my behalf without running it by me."

"I promise! Never again!" Her voice rises as the excitement shows through. "Does that mean you'll do it?"

"I'll meet with her," I grumble. "But that's it."

"I knew I could count on you! You're the best. Okay, she's expecting you tomorrow night at Urban Elixir. Seven o' clock."

"Got it. Your minute's up. Bye, Mick."

I take a long pull from the beer. There's no way in hell I'm doing a fucking television show.