3. Ash

CHAPTER 3

ASH

I hear reporters shouting and cameras clicking outside as I throw my clothes into a bag. I never thought I'd want to live in a gated community, but now I see the appeal.

I look out the window and sigh. There's a mix of paparazzi and reporters all waiting to pounce on me the second I leave my house.

Thankfully, this house was once owned by someone who despised being watched so the windows are reflective. I let the curtain fall back into place. Logically I know they can't see in, but I still feel exposed.

What a disaster.

Usually, the media don't care too much about hockey players. There are a few throwaway articles or blurbs about who we're dating or if we're being traded, but nothing like this.

My phone beeps. My driver has managed to get through the sea of reporters, through my front gate and into my garage.

My friend Cameron lent me his car, which is paparazzi-proof. I remember him bragging about how no one can take pictures of him in his car. His parents are well-known, and were sick of him being caught in compromising situations.

I lug my things into the car. To be honest, I was expecting something fancier, like a Batmobile. Don't get me wrong — it still looks like a ridiculously expensive car.

Whipping out my burner phone, I snap a picture of the driver from the outside with the flash on. Sure enough, you can't see anything.

I cringe as the car passes through the crowd, everyone snapping pictures. When we get to the airstrip, I'm given the VIP experience, which is basically just getting taken through a lot of tunnels and back doors. Glamorous.

There are a couple of close calls with paparazzi, so I'm happy when I find myself safely in a car in Colorado.

Coach lent me the team jet so I could get here as soon as possible, and I spent most of the flight trying to gauge the severity of the scandal. Apparently I'm the hot topic of the day. It seems like everyone on social media has an opinion.

There's a lot of misinformation circulating. I hate not being able to defend myself. I hate not being able to explain what really happened.

From previous experience, it doesn't matter if you're telling the truth. The media and the public grab onto a story, and they stick with the version they like best.

After reading through the flood of media posts and hot takes, I'm exhausted. I watch the mountains pass by as we drive further from civilization and breathe a sigh of relief. As much as I'd like to finish out the hockey season, this is a good alternative. I don't think I've had a proper break from hockey since I was in high school.

It seems like there's nothing but green grass and mountains for miles. I'm surprised how lush the grass is, given the time of year. Although it has been unseasonably warm. This time last year, I went skiing on our off week. Now it doesn't look even close to snowing.

The car winds down a long road and stops at an archway that reads Mystic Ranch .

The driver turns back to me. "It says we're here, but I'll drive you down to the house. It would take you a while to walk."

I nod. "Thanks, man. I appreciate it."

He continues down the long, winding path, and I take in the acres of land. I can see some animals in the distance, but it's hard to work out if they're cows or horses.

The car pulls up to a large stone-like house and I let out a deep sigh. The trip here was more exhausting than I anticipated.

I take in the arches and pillars that look like they're made from stones and rocks. There are wood elements thrown in, but overall it looks like the house was carved out of a cave.

As I step out of the town car, a bunch of unsavory smells hit me.

I'm definitely not in the city anymore.

I look around at the lush green grass and towering mountains. It feels like I've entered a different world.

I spot Jack lifting a huge bale of hay on one shoulder. He's in an undershirt, cargo shorts and cowboy boots. He looks like he's covered in dirt. I hope it's dirt.

He looks completely different from the last time I saw him. He's got a deep tan and larger muscles. Apparently, working on a ranch keeps you in shape.

I wonder how he's tan if we're just getting out of winter. Perhaps he spends so long in the sun that it's permanently altered his skin.

The last time I saw him he had a buzzcut. Now his hair is long and shaggy. I'm definitely going to have to make fun of him for that.

He spots me and breaks out in a massive grin, jogging over to me. "A-list! Glad you're here."

I roll my eyes at the nickname. He's been calling me it since we met. He said I had the ego of an A-lister. He wasn't wrong.

I take his hand and bring him in for a brief hug. The one guys always do when they see each other. It's more of a slap than a hug. "Jack! Nice digs."

He wipes the sweat off his forehead with his arm. "Let me show you around. Let's start inside so I can grab a drink."

He leads me to the porch, through the archway and in through the front door.

I take in the high ceilings and the mixture of wood and stone throughout the house.

Jack pauses. "Let me guess — nicer than you were expecting?"

I laugh. "I thought I'd be sleeping in a barn."

He rolls his eyes as he grabs a bottle of water from the fridge. He offers me one, but I politely decline.

I take a seat at the large wooden table. "Someone had a thing for stone and wood."

He chuckles. "Yeah, my grandfather. For the record, you are staying in the barn."

I feel the blood rush from my face. "Seriously?"

Jack almost spits out his water. "The look on your face is priceless. I'm serious, but trust me, it's amazing. It's a loft above the barn."

I smile. "Okay, that doesn't sound too bad."

He nods his head in the direction we came. "Come on, I'll show you."

Jack leads me into the barn, and it's exactly what I was expecting — horses, hay, and it smells worse than a locker room.

I wonder how Jack felt having to give up hockey to come here. I wonder if this life could be fulfilling. I can't imagine not playing hockey. It's who I am.

He leads me around a corner and up a wooden staircase.

My eyes widen. You would never guess this could be above the barn.

We walk into an open living room that looks surprisingly modern. There's a kitchen to the right with a marble countertop and sleek, textured tiles. The space is covered in light-colored wood. It's more modern than the main house. It feels like it's got a woman's touch in here. I don't recall Jack having said he's seeing anyone, though, in our brief catchups over the years.

I take a closer look at the living area. There are generous-sized couches facing a flatscreen TV, which is hanging above what looks like an electric fireplace. It's the perfect spot to watch all my sports. I could definitely get comfortable here.

I almost run into the glass coffee table that sits in the middle of the space because I'm too busy taking it all in.

The living room flows effortlessly into a cozy bedroom space that overlooks the ranch. Jack shows me the bathroom that's tucked away in the corner. I honestly thought it was storage space until he opened the door.

My jaw drops. It looks like something you'd expect when you stay at a luxury hotel.

Jack chuckles at my expression. "I told you."

I smirk. "I was expecting a loft similar to that dodgy one above the bar."

He scrunches his face. "Jeez, I haven't thought about that place in a long time. It was horrible."

I laugh. "But we had some good times there."

He nods in agreement.

Someone clears their throat from behind us, and Jack looks around me.

I follow his gaze. I'm pleasantly surprised when I see a pretty, petite brunette — also covered in dirt.

She makes getting dirty look good, though, in her tight jeans and tank top. I smile when I notice her cowboy boots.

Where has Jack been hiding her? I don't blame him. She's stunning.

She clears her throat again, and I suddenly feel like I'm in trouble. My eyes meet hers, and I'm struck by how piercingly blue hers are. A shiver runs down my body.

I study the scowl on her face. It seems like she's annoyed by my presence. Interesting. I don't think that's ever happened before.

Jack sighs. "I was just showing Ash around."

She crosses her arms and glares at him. "When you're done gossiping like a girl at a beauty salon" — she throws me a sour look and looks back at Jack — "get your butt into gear. We have things to do."

Jack looks at me. "Pardon my sister's lack of manners; she wasn't raised with the same social graces as me."

Sister? I feel like I would remember him bringing up having a sister.

She sticks her finger up at him.

Jack laughs and gestures between us. "Ash, Kayla. Kayla, Ash."

I try to remember if he ever mentioned having a sister. I know a few of the guys on our rival team tried to hide the fact that they had sisters. When the homecoming game weekend came about, it was war — all the guys trying to sleep with each other's sisters. There were a lot of walks of shame and fist fights after that.

I rack my brain but I'm pretty sure Jack never mentioned Kayla. Given hockey players' track records, it makes sense that he kept her a secret. Especially when she looks like that.

She notices me staring at her and narrows her eyes. "Okay. Hi."

I give her a small wave. "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt his work."

She sighs heavily and rubs her forehead. I wonder if she left another career behind in order to fulfill her dad's wishes.

If it were my dad, I would've told him to let developers buy it. Jack told me all about the offers they had for the ranch, but his dad wanted a legacy.

I remember him saying his dad moved to Florida. So, his kids are here and he's not. That seems like a shitty deal.

I look between the siblings. They seem to be having a silent conversation, or a stare-off. I can't really tell.

Kayla raises her eyebrows. "Finish showing him around and then put him to work." She swings around, whipping her long ponytail through the air. "Show Pretty Boy what hard work is."

Jack laughs and then shrugs when I glare at him.

Slowly, a smile tugs at my lips.

He notices and frowns. "You wouldn't."

I click my tongue and confirm what I'm thinking. "I'm sure the boys would love to hear about her."

He rolls his eyes. "Actually, I would love to see them try. She would eat them alive."

I laugh. Of that, I have no doubt.