Chapter 1

Wade– Present Day

Eagles defenseman, ‘Wild' Wade Collins punches fellow teammate, Zane Edwards in locker room incident

I almost laughed when I saw the headlines this morning. They are a far cry from when I signed with the Eagles eight years ago and the press called me the Golden Boy, about to shake up the face of hockey forever. I don't even recognize the man I've become.

Too terrified to enter, I pace back and forth outside the meeting room I"ve only ever been in a handful of times.

One of them being the day I signed my Edmonton Eagles contract. The best day of my life.

Depending on what happens in there today, this may possibly be the worst day.

Although I have already been through one of the worst days of my life.

Nothing could top that.

A year later, my heart still feels like it's bleeding out and raw.

I tip my head back and pull in a deep breath, then blow out the ugly thoughts that still live in my head rent free of that day.

The day that sent me spiraling down this path of self-destruction.

Not now, Wade. Pack it up, and put it beside your other emotional baggage.

I'm here because I'm an idiot and have been a thorn in the Eagles' side for months.

An entire year of anger, pain, and heartache, which no one knows about and that has led to far too many game suspensions.

And after last night, there is most likely another one coming my way from behind this door.

Much like the last one, it's deserved, which came after getting caught having ‘sexual relations', with Britney from the Eagles' marketing department.

More like I got caught with her bouncing up and down on my dick by my former coach, Ash Johansson, which was embarrassing enough, but to have his wife be there too, was simply shameful.

Unfortunately, it happened. I can't change it, but deeply regret it.

He threw me out of his house that he had been letting me live in straight after. Then Britney got fired, which I feel terrible about, but hey, apparently, I wasn't the first player she'd slept with.

Sleeping with her was a moment of weakness after yet another bad day, which I seem to have a lot of lately. Even with all the shit I've pulled, she's still only the second girl I have ever slept with.

My first being Amelia.

I thought she was my beginning, my middle, and my end.

She wasn't.

She's still the only girl I've ever loved though, that is, besides Gretchen.

Gretchen would be disappointed in me and my recent bought of bad behavior.

I'm disappointed in myself, but not enough to change what I'm doing.

Staring at the still-closed door, I consider what my life would look like with Amelia and Gretchen still by my side.

Childhood sweethearts from the age of ten, Amelia and I stuck together like glue throughout middle school and then high school. Even when I was drafted to the Eagles, and she went off to college, moving to Vancouver to study dentistry for eight years, we continued to date, until we split up.

Looking back, it was me who always made the effort. Even when my schedule was slammed, I'd fly back and forth whenever I could. Call her, send endless text messages and flowers, until one day I decided to surprise her in person. However, it was me who was in for a surprise when I caught her in bed with someone else. I thought losing Amelia would be the worst pain I ever experienced; it ripped the flesh from my bones and left me feeling exposed.

But then something much worse followed.

Gretchen died.

The thought of that day causes a ferocious tug at my heart and makes it beat out of time.

It's too painful.

I want to forget, but I can't.

Then I do stupid fucked up things. Like fighting and drinking excessively.

Since my last suspension, I haven't exactly been keeping my nose clean or toeing the line like management hoped I would.

Finding solace, drinking alone in a bar usually leads to me fighting with anyone who even looks at me the wrong way, which I've been arrested for more times than I care to mention. I'm never out of the newspapers and out-of-court settlements have become the norm.

So, why am I hesitant to open this door?

Because I know my head is on the chopping block today.

Last night was the final straw.

But they can't blame me for what happened.

The blame can't all be pinned on me.

No way.

Following our exhibition game with The Montreal Lynxes, I got into a fight with my teammate, Zane. The tension between us has been brewing since the day I was drafted. Years of his endless jokes about my mother finally tipped me over the edge.

His jokes aren't funny. I find them hurtful. Humiliating.

His nose was begging to be broken. Everyone in the locker room agreed with me that he had it coming.

Always popular before my life began to unravel, I've made more enemies than friends on my team recently. When I stopped caring, so did they. However, last night was the first time they genuinely stood by my actions.

The way Zane spoke about my mom, calling her a cougar, asking if I could pass his number on to her and if I could put in a good word for him as he knows how much she likes young boys.

Her boyfriends might be around my age, but saying what he did in front of my entire team made her sound like she was breaking the law.

My embarrassment turned into unhinged anger in a heartbeat.

He had it coming.

He's not just a prick, he's a fuckingtactless prick. Someone I would happily dig a grave for and bury thirty feet under, then cement over and smile while doing it.

I don't hate many people, but Zane Edwards, I hate with every cell in my body.

And the feeling is mutual. The evil side eyes, and his smart-ass comments, make my teeth itch.

He's learned all my weak spots and likes to press them repeatedly.

If I never had to speak to him again, I would die a very happy man, but I can't.

Unfortunately, digging a grave for him is not an option either. According to the online forums, the fans would miss him because he's amazing and the NHL's hottest goalie.

I can't deny he's a talented goalie, and it pains me to say that he ultimately won us the Stanley Cup last season, saving goal after goal.

So, while he rises, I'm blowing my career into minuscule pieces. The same way my heart feels. Shattered.

My two best friends, Ezra and Myles, think I'm lashing out due to all the grief I'm harboring and won't talk about.

I think they are wrong.

No one understands what I'm going through, or how I feel, and I will be damned if I share my personal shit with anyone.

In all honesty, it's none of their business.

I push my shoulders back to muster all the fake confidence I can, slowly twist the boardroom door handle and then push open the door.

I was expecting to be met by two, maybe three people at most. What I'm not expecting is a room full of officials.

Unprepared, my internal iron-clad fortress pulls in a little tighter, making it impenetrable.

It's official.

I'm getting fired today.

For breaking Zane's nose.

Totally worth it.

No, it wasn't, you asshole.

My inner conscience gives me the virtual bitch slap I need.

Shit, what was I thinking?

Oh, yeah, I wasn't.