Chapter 1

Asher Gray

"Alright, assholes," I say, bouncing the ball between my hands. "Are we going to play basketball or stand around all day?" Kaleb, Dakota, and Ryder are already trash talking and laughing as we divide into teams.

The game kicks off, and our sneakers squeak against the pavement as we dart back and forth, chasing after the ball as it pounds against the concrete. My roommates, who are also my teammates on our professional hockey team, Charleston Renegades, decided that it would be a good idea to relax by playing a competitive sport. They should know that a friendly game of basketball in our house’s driveway turns into high stakes when competition is all of our livelihoods.

"Come on, Jet, you can do better than that!" Dakota teases me using my hockey nickname as I miss an easy shot.

Frustration kicks in as the ball swishes past the hoop and Dakota, not missing his chance, sprints for it. He grabs it with ease and shoots, scoring a perfect two-pointer. His hazel eyes gleam with victory, sending a smirk in my direction. "That's how it's done, boys."

Dakota “Lucky” Miles is something else. Picture the perfect poster boy for mischief and mayhem. He revels in his heartthrob status both on and off the ice. Being the resident "fuck boy" of the Charleston Renegades comes naturally to him. His brown hair is always messed up perfectly, like he just rolled out of bed after a night spent partying hard or being tangled in the sheets with some unnamed girl.

"Nice shot, pretty boy!" Kaleb chimes in, ruffling Dakota's hair on his way past. Dakota simply grins at him and takes possession of the ball again, but I run by and snatch the ball from him.

"Oh yeah? Watch this," I retort, grinning confidently. Sweat drips in my eyes from the heat and humidity of the salty air from the ocean breeze. Although, I welcome it, since we spend most of our time on frozen ice.

With a quick flick of my wrist, I send the ball soaring towards the hoop. It smacks against the backboard with a satisfying thud before swooshing through the net to score. My friends erupt in both cheers and groans, with a few of them high fiving each other and playfully shoving.

Kaleb glares at me. "You just got lucky, Jet."

Kaleb “Viking” Jensen, our team’s goal-tender, shakes his head at me, a wry smile playing on his lips. Standing at an impressive 6'3", with a blonde mop of hair and intense gray eyes that seem to pierce right through you, he oozes a sense of quiet dominance and authority, both on and off the field. You can always tell when Kaleb steps into a room - not because he's loud or obnoxious, but because his very presence demands attention. He's the kind of guy who keeps his mouth shut but his eyes wide open, who speaks more through his actions than his words.

"Or maybe I'm just that good," I shoot back, winking. I can feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins, the thrill of the win is a welcomed cortisol boost.

"Your ego’s showing. Put it away. We've got a game to win." Ryder grins, tossing me the ball.

Ryder "Wolf" Raines. Just hearing the name has the ability to frighten the opposing team. There's an energy about him that's both intimidating and alluring. He's the team's captain, our rock, our undisputed alpha. He's a towering figure in shoes, and then you add the height from the skates, and he’s scary tall. His muscular frame is built like a brick house, and his dark hair is peppered with streaks of silver that do nothing but add to his ruggedness.

There’s something about Ryder’s demeanor that screams danger and mystery. Yet at the same time, you can sense there’s a gentleness beneath his gruff exterior. He's not one to express his feelings verbally, but let him pick up his guitar, and it's as if he pours out all the sentiments he holds back in beautiful melodies.

"Okay, Okay. Let's make this interesting," I say, smirking and dribbling the ball between my legs. "Next point wins, loser buys drinks at Sand Dunes tonight."

"Deal!" Kaleb exclaims, rubbing his hands together.

"Bring it on!" Dakota adds, already positioning himself for defense.

There's nothing quite like a little friendly wager between men.

"Ready?" I ask, looking each of them in the eye.

"Born ready," Ryder replies with a smirk.

"Let's do this!" Kaleb shouts, clapping.

"Game on," Dakota adds, narrowing his eyes in determination.

I take a deep breath and launch into action, quickly maneuvering around Dakota with a swift sidestep. He tries to keep up, but I'm too fast, my agility and speed honed from years of training. I pass the ball to Ryder, who fakes out Kaleb with a quick feint before tossing it back to me.

"Nice one!" I shout, catching the ball effortlessly and spinning towards the hoop. With a precise flick of my wrist, I send the ball sailing through the air, its trajectory aimed perfectly at the net.

"Damn, Jet! You don't mess around!" Dakota exclaims, clearly impressed by my skills.

"Hey, when it comes to money and booze, I always bring my A-game," I reply, grinning broadly as I watch the ball swish through the net, sealing our victory.

"Looks like you're buying drinks, Kaleb!" Ryder teases, patting him on the back.

"Ugh, fine. But you guys better not go overboard," Kaleb grumbles, but there's a good-natured smile on his face.

Just as we're all turning to head into the house, I feel a need to take one last shot. This time, though, I decide to get fancy and show off my footwork. It doesn’t really go the way I picture it in my head, and my feet tangle. All of a sudden, I’m tumbling headfirst into the bushes lining the driveway.

"Shit!" I yell, trying to untangle myself from the branches as I hear my friends' laughter echoing around me.

"Smooth move, Jet," Dakota teases, extending a hand to help me up. "You alright?"

I nod, brushing leaves and twigs off my clothes. For a split second, the laughter of my friends feels like mockery, and my chest tightens. What if this moment of clumsiness is a sign of things to come? What if I take this bad luck streak into the game on the ice?

I shake off the laughter but not the nagging feeling that I still need to prove myself on the ice as a valuable Charleston Renegades player before I get traded. It's a fear that has plagued me since childhood, stemming from the loss of my parents and the pressure to make them proud.

"Hey, you know what they say," I grin, trying to play it cool as I dust myself off. "If you're not falling, you're not trying hard enough, right?" I chuckle.

"Sounds about right," Kaleb smirks. "Now let's get going before Jet decides to sleep in those bushes."

We make our way to The Sand Dunes Bar it's our passion, our dream, our lives.