Chapter 2

“ A nother round!” I cheer obnoxiously and completely out of character, smashing my empty shot glass against the bar. “For me and all my friends.”

Practice tomorrow is going to come early, and it’s going to suck. But ever since my wife left and now that my house is empty, all I want to do when I’m not on the ice is get fucked up, to the point of oblivion.

I’m the guy who fucking hates crowds. Yet here I am, hammered off my ass in a crowded bar. Again.

My publicist is sure going to love this. Oh well. She’ll clean it up, just like she has all the other messes I’ve made lately.

I’m hardly aware of the body that comes next to me until I feel a fingernail dragging its way down my arm before moving to my leg. I turn my head quickly, and everything begins to swirl. I can just make out the bright red lipstick and bleached-blonde-haired woman beside me.

“Hey, handsome,” she coos, moving that same fingernail up and down my thigh. “Looks like you’re having fun.”

“Fun?” I smirk, shaking my head. “Oh, I don’t know about that, sweetheart.”

“Sure you do,” she whispers, moving her face closer to mine. It’s all blurry, but it’s also all wrong.

Her eyes are blue, not brown. Her hair is too light, not natural and beautiful. She’s not Paige. And because of that, I wish she’d get the fuck away from me. Now.

“Don’t let me fool you. The last fucking place I want to be is here. Next to you,” I gripe, pulling back, but when I do, my head spins more. “I want my wife,” I utter when she tries to touch me again. “You’re not my fucking wife!” I scream, standing quickly but falling back.

“What the fuck, Richard?” a familiar voice suddenly barks at the bartender as I get back onto my feet and sway around. “I called you earlier and told you not to let him get fucked up tonight. And yet here he is.”

“Look, Walker,” Richard says hastily, prepared to defend himself to Walker James, one of my teammates. “I fucking tried to tell him no, but he started having a meltdown. I didn’t want anyone to catch him on video, freaking the fuck out. And until about thirty seconds before you all walked in, he was peaceful.”

“Yeah, and then some fucking girl kept touching my arm and leg,” I grumble, stumbling back to the barstool. “Killing my whole fucking vibe.”

“Fuck you. You have no vibe,” the woman hisses before I feel a hand land on my cheek when she slaps me. “You’re a loser. And a sloppy drunk too.”

Holding my middle finger up, I laugh obnoxiously, unable to help myself even though I look like a tool. “Next time, don’t fucking touch my leg with your long-ass nail without permission.” I shake my head. “My wife would be pissed if she were here.”

“All right, buddy, time for you to go,” another voice says, and right away, I know it’s Logan, just before I feel a hand around my arm.

I turn my head, and even though I know it’s Logan, I fucking fight him.

“Go home to your kid,” I say, pulling back. “I’m hanging out with my friends.”

“These aren’t your friends, Kolt,” he answers with sadness in his tone, and it instantly pisses me off.

What the fuck does he have to be sad about?

“Come on, man. Let’s get you home,” Walker says, coming to my other side. “We can do this the easy way, where you act like the fucking man we know you are and come with us. Or the hard way, where you act like a bitch—like you have been for months—and we can knock you out and fucking drag you out in front of all these people. Your choice.”

I look at Logan. “Pfft. Sterns, you really going to let him talk to me like this?”

Logan squeezes my shoulder. Even when I’m in my drunken stupor, he still reminds me of Klay. “Yeah, man, I am. Because, to be honest, I’m fucking scared for you right now, considering how you’re acting.”

“I’m fucking fine,” I growl, standing up and backing away from them both. “Can’t you see that?”

Like a wild animal being ganged up on, I look between both of them, in fight mode, my chest huffing. But it becomes harder and harder to stand. When I look at Logan and then Walker once more, the room spins. But this time … it never slows down.

I open my eyes and hiss, “Fuck.” I grab my forehead, as if that could numb the stabbing sensation in the center of it, before I sit up, trying to figure out where the hell I am.

“Yeah, I bet your head hurts,” Logan’s deep voice says.

Suddenly, the bedroom light comes on, and I look around to find I’m in his guest bedroom.

“Walker waited around for you to wake up for a few hours, but he wanted to get home to Poppy and get some sleep before practice. But he was here. And if it wasn’t for him helping me carry your ass out, you’d be back on the dirty-ass floor of that bar you seem to like so much.”

Logan doesn’t usually get worked up, but right now, he’s pissed.

“Do you two want a medal or something?” I utter, dragging a hand down my face and feeling like I’m going to puke. But I swallow, keeping it in because I’m not giving Sterns the satisfaction of watching me puke from being drunk.

“Nah. I just want you to come out of it,” he snaps. “Whatever you’re going through, figure it out. Because you’re not going to sabotage my team’s season just because you’re getting fucked up every night.”

“Your team, huh?” I say, shooting up quickly. “ Your team, Sterns?”

He stands, charging toward me. “Yeah, my team, Kolt. Because lately, my team has been the last fucking thing you’re concerned about. So, guess what. You are going to stay here, in this fucking room, and talk to me. And decide where to go from here. Because I’m not standing by and watching you ruin your life and our season.”

“I’m fucking fine,” I say, heaving deep breaths in and out and staring at him.

His eyes darken, and he smirks angrily. “I don’t think so, man. I think your wife left you, and now, you’re pretty fucking set on fucking up your entire life. That’s what I think.”

“Fuck you!” I scream. So fucking pissed that I’m not even considering my voice might wake up his daughter, Amelia. That should prove to him and me both how much of a shitbag human I really am.

He shoves his hand into my chest. “Tell me I’m wrong, Kolburne. Tell me that Paige leaving doesn’t have anything to do with what a fucking loser you’ve been the past few months.” He leans closer, his eyes narrowing. “Which, by the way, I don’t fucking get. Because you pretty much showed that girl the door. She might have been the one to leave, but you drove her to do it.”

I grasp his shirt as an animalistic growl comes from inside of me. My jaw tenses, and I feel my veins bulge in my neck. “You don’t know the fucking half of it, Sterns, so shut the fuck up.”

“Maybe I don’t.” He cocks his head to the side. “So, tell me.”

“You’d never get it,” I hiss. “You have everything. You don’t give a fuck about my problems.”

I’m drunk and angry. And even though I know nothing I’m saying makes sense, I can’t seem to stop.

“Everything?” His eyes widen. “I have a baby whose mother is dead, Kolt. One day, I’ll have to tell her that her mom died the day she was born. So, as much as I love you, buddy … fuck off.” He steps back, pulling out of my grasp.

“At least you have a fucking kid!” I roar. “At least you know you can fucking have kids!”

There’s no missing the confusion and shock on his face. Dragging a hand down the back of his neck, he frowns. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I didn’t push my wife away for the fucking hell of it, Logan,” I mutter. “I did it because all Paige has ever wanted is to be a mom. And thanks to my fucking weak-ass swimmers, I was never going to be able to give her kids.”

His face pales as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “What are you saying? Are you saying you sabotaged your marriage? Did you even give her the option to stay?”

“Fuck no.” I scowl. “She would have just told me it was fine. Then, she would have hated me for the rest of our lives because I’d stolen the chance of her having a baby.” I plop down on the edge of the bed and look at the ground. “Fuck that. That girl deserves the world. I’m not taking it from her.”

For a moment, Logan is quiet before he eventually sits down beside me. “Kolt … I love you, man. You’re like a brother to me. But I have to tell you something.” He pauses, looking over at me. “I think you fucked up, man. I think you really, really fucked up.”

Something about those words sobers me. Because … fuck, he’s right.