Chapter 2

brADY

An hour after running into Grace, I sat at a bar, waiting for my teammate and friend Mac to arrive. Mac had always been the one to arrive before me until he’d fallen in love with Elodie.

I had a feeling the two of them had gotten busy before Mac was about to leave. I grimaced thinking about it. I was happy for my friend, but I was also unbelievably jealous—not that I’d ever fucking admit it to him.

I was fond of this dive bar off Sunset Boulevard, mostly because nobody bothered us here. Nobody gave two fucks that I was a hockey player. People kept to themselves. Even the dreaded paparazzi left us alone here. Or maybe they just hadn’t figured out that so many of us from the Blades came here on the regular.

How the fuck did no one tell me Grace was coming back? I thought for the millionth time.

Running into her had given me the shock of my goddamn life. Running into her when I’d been totally naked? Christ, I’d been torn between laughter and arousal just from her being a few feet away from me.

Grace Dallas had grown up. As a kid she’d been chubby, with braces and glasses. She’d lost the braces, gotten tall and slim, and wore glasses only when she thought no one would see her.

At least, that was how she’d been as a teenager. The woman standing in front of me in that locker room was a stranger.

A fucking gorgeous and sexy blond woman. She had a self-confidence she hadn’t had the last time I’d seen her.

Then again, Grace had always confused me. One second, she’d been shy, then the next, a vixen who Satan himself must’ve sent to tempt me.

It didn’t matter that Grace was an adult now. She was still off-limits. When he caught me talking to her, Coach’s reaction showed me that nothing had changed.

“Sorry I’m late,” Mac said, slapping me on the shoulder. He sat down next to me, smiling like an idiot. “Elodie needed me to do something for her.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “Is that code for ‘I was banging my girlfriend’?”

“Surprisingly, no. She needed me to fix something with her car.”

I stared at my friend, unconvinced. Mac just chuckled and ordered a drink.

We chatted about the upcoming game against the Tsunamis, the latest play that Coach had had us practicing, and why our teammate Zach was a gigantic douchebag. I’d started in on my second beer, the alcohol relaxing me.

But when Mac brought up Grace, any relaxation I might’ve felt instantly fled.

“Yeah, I ran into her,” I said.

Mac stared at me. “What? When?”

“After practice.”

“Huh. I’ve only met her once, years ago. I’d always thought Coach would never let her work for the team. I’m pretty sure if he could’ve locked her up in a tower, he would have.” Mac chuckled. “I met her at a party at the Dallases’. She was home from college. And Coach gave her an earful because she tried some of the wine even though she wasn’t twenty-one yet. I think her birthday was a week away or something.”

I hadn’t gone to that party. I’d wanted to, but I’d steered clear when I heard Grace would be there.

“Her birthday was the day after,” I said without thinking.

Mac stared at me. I scowled at him when he gave me a look that said, Tell me more.

“I know the Dallases pretty well,” I finally hedged.

Mac just waited.

I sighed, but I also knew that I’d rather tell Mac all of this myself than have him hear it from a third party.

“You know my mom was messed up, right? Well, I was put in foster care starting when I was just five. My mom would get sober for a bit, I’d go home, then she’d relapse, and back to foster care I’d go. When I was fourteen, the state finally terminated her parental rights when ...”

I shook my head. “Never mind. But you should know that Coach and his family were my foster family until I turned eighteen.”

Mac didn’t say anything for a long moment. I hated waiting for people’s responses to my pathetic childhood. More often than not, people would either say they were sorry and give me a pitying look, or they’d change the subject because they didn’t know what to say.

Mac, though, just squeezed my shoulder. “Sorry, man,” was his simple but sincere reply.

I shrugged. “It was a long time ago. But I grew up with Grace and her brother.” The thought of Ben made my throat close, and I had to clear the lump that formed there. “She’s just two years younger than me. Anyway, we used to be close.”

Until you wanted her for yourself, my brain reminded me. And you fucked everything up right afterward.

“How did I not know you lived with Coach?” Mac asked.

“I mean, it’s not something you just bring up in the locker room.” I made my voice sound higher. “‘Hey, guys, do you have a minute to talk about how my parents were assholes?’” I dashed a fake tear from my eye.

Mac, though, didn’t laugh. “That sounds tough. Is your mom still around?”

“Shockingly, yeah. She’s still drinking. Last I heard, she’d moved in with a guy named Weasel out in Bakersfield.”

“And your dad?”

I gestured at the bartender to pour me a third beer. “Prison for selling drugs and a little incident where he shot a police officer.” When Mac swore under his breath, I added, “The cop survived, at least. And this all happened when I was a baby. I never knew my dad. A blessing, really.”

“So did you know Grace was coming back to LA?” Mac asked.

My stomach knotted. Considering I was a pseudo family member, you’d think Coach would’ve told me. But no, he hadn’t said a fucking word. As far as I knew, he hadn’t intended to tell me at all. I had no idea how he thought I wouldn’t run into his daughter when she’d gotten an internship with the team.

“Nope,” I replied.

But even as I was pissed at Coach and confused about my reaction to Grace, I couldn’t stay mad. Not when I remembered all that the Dallases had done for me.

“They saved me,” I said quietly, staring off into space, remembering. “I’d been a fucking mess. I was angry. I pushed them all away because it was easier than believing that somebody might not abandon me for once.”

I let out a humorless laugh. “Did you know I was adopted? Before I was sent to live with the Dallases. But after a month, they changed their minds. Said I was too difficult.”

Mac looked incredulous. “What the fuck? You can do that?”

“Yep. They needed to ‘rehome’ me. Like a fucking dog.”

“Jesus. I’m so sorry.”

“So I was waiting for the Dallases to do the same thing. I pushed all their buttons. I broke their rules. I was an asshole, but they never gave up on me. And then Ben introduced me to hockey, and my life changed forever.”

“Ben?” Mac asked.

Shit. Why the fuck am I running my mouth like this?

I shook my head. “Never mind. Coach doesn’t want me hanging around his daughter, anyway.”

I’d always suspected Grace had a crush on me when we were younger. And then there’d been a time when that suspicion had turned into a certainty ...

“Can you blame Coach?” Mac was saying, forcing me to stop reminiscing about the past. “You have a reputation.”

I was offended even though I couldn’t disagree with Mac. “I’m not going to do anything to the coach’s daughter,” I protested.

“Dude, you’ll fuck any woman who you think is attractive. Pretty sure you have way more notches in your bedpost than even I do.”

“Nothing wrong with wanting to have fun.” But the alcohol flowing through my veins ended with me adding, “But I’m getting kind of bored of it all, to be honest. It’s too easy. Women just throw themselves at you. I miss the chase, you know?”

Mac nodded. “I get it.” He paused, then said, “Maybe you need a change of pace.”

“Like what, exactly? Catfishing women on Tinder?” I joked.

“I went to this club often.” Mac gave me a pointed look. “It caters to lots of different ... tastes. You might like it. I haven’t been going since Elodie and I started dating, and Zach has been wanting an invite, but if you want it instead ...”

We both knew our teammate Zach was even more of a horndog than I was. But he was the worst kind: he collected women like trophies and then crowed about his exploits to the team afterward.

“Different tastes?” I repeated. “Now I’m intrigued.”

“You can do a trial run. They know me there. Let me know if you want an invite.”

A sex club wasn’t normally my cup of tea, but maybe it’d relieve this ever-present boredom I was feeling lately.

“Maybe it’ll get my mind off Grace Dallas,” I muttered.

“Were you guys close?”

I thought about the question, then shrugged. “Sort of. But like everything else in my life, I fucked it up.”

Mac and I talked for a bit longer, but Mac had to leave. Probably to “fix” something else on Elodie’s car, I thought in amusement.

I finished off my beer and was about to call for a ride when a woman approached me. She was just my type: gorgeous. Dark hair, dark eyes, big boobs, and a nice juicy ass that you could bounce a quarter off.

“You’re Brady Carmichael, aren’t you?” she asked, her eyes widening in shock.

I nodded. “The one and only.”

“That last game you guys played ...” She shivered. “It was amazing. I love watching you play.”

I wasn’t immune to her charms. She was totally the type of woman I preferred to take home.

“Thank you,” I said.

The woman reached out to pick something off my shirt. She giggled. “Sorry, but you had a bit of fuzz.”

She didn’t remove her hand, though. She made a point to run her fingers across my chest, her eyelashes fluttering. I didn’t stop her from moving her hand to my shoulder and then down to my biceps. She squeezed one, and her eyes widened.

“Wow. You must work out a lot,” she remarked.

“It’s kind of part of the job.” I winked and then made a point to flex my arms.

The woman made an ooh noise, like I’d just performed some amazing party trick.

“What’s your name?” I asked her.

“Theresa,” she replied. “But my friends call me Tess.”

“Then should I call you Tess, too?”

Tess licked her lips. “Sure.”

I gestured for her to sit down with me at the bar, an invitation that she accepted eagerly. My brain, though, kept demanding to know why the hell I was wasting my time with this woman.

Even worse, I couldn’t stop thinking about Grace Dallas. As I stared into Tess’s eyes, listening to her talk about the most inane subjects, I could only wonder what Grace would think about this entire situation.

“One time I drank five Jell-O shots in a row,” Tess was saying, “and you know what happened next?”

I forced myself to smile. “What?”

“I fell flat on my face trying to run after Aidan Miller. You know, the basketball player? But he helped me up right after. I wish he hadn’t, though. I ended up puking all over him.”

I had to restrain myself from rolling my eyes. “Does this story have a happy ending?” I asked.

Tess giggled. “Well, yeah! Aidan took me up to his room to help him clean up.” She leaned closer to me. “And he invited his friend. We had a great time, the three of us.”

“Ah.”

“How about we go find somewhere else? Somewhere with a little more privacy.” Tess traced a hand up my arm, her long, red nails scratching at my skin like a cat’s.

I seriously considered her offer. She sounded like she’d be a fun time, at least. I had a feeling she’d be up for anything, too.

But something was stopping me. The words that I should say somehow wouldn’t come out of my mouth. It made zero sense.

What’s stopping you? I was suddenly disgusted with my hesitation.

Hadn’t I just been complaining to Mac about being bored? Tess would definitely relieve my boredom for a bit. It was clear she wanted me.

So what was the fucking problem?

“Let me buy you another drink,” I said, turning toward the bar to get the bartender’s attention.

I managed to extricate myself from Tess’s claws before she dragged me into a dark alley to have her way with me. She wasn’t happy at me not taking her home, but I didn’t care.

I made a point to give her an autograph, told her who to contact for some free tickets to the next Blades game, and then headed home.

And I was going home alone. No Tesses to distract me tonight. I told myself it was because I was tired when I knew, deep down, it was because I couldn’t get Grace Dallas out of my head.

As if by fucking magic, I got a text from Grace herself. Is this still your number? It’s Grace.

I stared at my phone screen. But my jumbled, tipsy brain couldn’t put together a coherent reply. So I stuffed my phone into my pocket and ignored the problem, like I always fucking did.

But by the time I arrived home, it felt like my phone was burning a hole in my pocket. I couldn’t stop myself from responding.

Yeah, it’s me, I sent.

Grace replied quickly. Did you not want to text me back or what?

No, I was just busy.

Bullshit. I know you.

I chuckled. She did know me, damn her.

Our conversation over text continued as the evening wore on. I admitted that it’d been weird seeing her out of the blue like that.

Weird, bad? Or weird, good? she asked.

Weird good. It was a surprise.

Oh good. Glad it was good for you, then.

I could hear the sarcasm. I laughed. You know you look good, I replied.

The three dots of her typing appeared on my screen. Then they disappeared. Then reappeared. At last, she sent, You look good, too.

When we finally said good night, I’d forgotten all about the woman I could’ve been fucking.

I could think only about the woman I knew I could never, ever have.