WRECKING THE CRUEL HOCKEY GOD

Chapter 7: Girlfriend For Years

Our feet touch the pavement like the last couple stepping out of the bus.

Around us, players and a few girls are still talking about the housewarming party tonight, their voices carrying across the driveway.

I pull my notebook from my bag, opening it fast just to give my hands something to do aside from shaking.

My fingers tap the screen, typing down random details about the party setup, trying to look busy and entirely unbothered, even though my insides are screaming.

Garrett stands next to me, my camera hanging off his neck.

Over by the front entrance, Zykiel tosses a small foam ball back and forth with Mikael.

He grabs Mikael by the shoulder, laughing at something, and the two of them lead the group inside, all loose and easy, like a man walking into his own house.

He looks completely relaxed, which is honestly kind of insulting.

He ruins my entire year and then just laughs and plays catch? Must be nice, having a conscience made of Teflon.

A few feet ahead, Finn walks with his girl completely hurled into his hands, as if they just wedded and need everyone within a hundred feet to notice them.

A short breath bursts out of me. My gaze goes to the concrete under my shoes.

Garrett catches my shoulder and pulls me forward. "Don't look at Finn. Look at me."

I give him a quiet smile, letting him drag me along. "I'm looking at the ground, Garrett."

"Good. Keep it there or look at my shoes. Just keep moving."

"Your shoes are also not a great option, for the record."

"They're clean, Mara."

"That's not the standard I meant."

The mansion in front of us is massive. From the driveway, it looks more like a private compound built for a top athlete than a normal team house.

I bet the water bill alone could cover my rent for a decade.

We walk through the main entrance and step into a wide corridor lined with recessed lighting from floor to ceiling.

The brightness hits differently, and the black tiles on the floor are too clean and squeaky, making me want to take off my shoes.

As the rest of the team strides further down the hall, I slow my pace and turn to Garrett.

"Okay," I say, wearing my professional tone. "Once we're in the main room, you take the camera."

Garrett blinks at me. "Excuse me? Why me?"

"Because we need to get a clear shot of everyone settling in, and you can ask them quick questions for the socials."

"Mara, no." He shakes his head immediately. "You know I do the edits. I sit in the back, cut the messy footage, make you look good on camera. You do the talking. That's the whole arrangement."

"Please." I stop in the middle of the hall. "I'm serious. If I walk up to them with a camera right now, it's going to be weird. Especially with… him and everyone."

I shift my eyes toward the end of the hall, where Zykiel's dark shirt disappears into the rooms with three other players.

Garrett follows my gaze and snorts. "You didn't come on this tour to sweat over some guy. You're here to do your job."

"My job is exactly what I'm doing, friend. I'm delegating."

"No! You're running."

"That's a very funny way to put it… okay sure, let's go with running."

Before I can say anything else, he grabs the notebook straight out of my hands.

"Garrett!" My voice sharpens with a harsh whisper. "Give that back!"

Instead, he shoves the mirrorless camera into my hands, looping the strap around my wrist.

The camera was paid for with money that was supposed to be my rent, a fact that makes me hold onto it like my little baby.

"Move, friend." He gives me a small push. "Go do your thing. I'm right behind you."

I let out a groan, staring down at the display screen. I have no idea how I'm supposed to walk up to Finn, or Zykiel, and ask casual questions without either of them pulling another scene like the one on the bus.

My whole plan for this month was staying invisible. Off to a great start already.

"Mara, hurry up." Garrett looks down the empty hall. "We're the only two left in this corridor!”

"Fine," I mutter through my teeth, my pulse picking up the anxious beat I don't love. "Let's just get this over with."

I grab Garrett by the sleeve, pull him toward the double doors at the end of the hallway, and push them open.

The room on the other side doesn't look like the inside of a house.

Instinctively, I bring the camera to my eye level to take a shot, but this camera is totally ruining my view, so I lower it again, just to… savor this place with my eyes.

I walk in, and my brain genuinely spins with absolute awe.

This place is insane.

The mansion is built in a huge circle. In the middle, there's a giant sunken living room that reminds me of a small football pitch, except instead of grass, it's filled with sofas and chairs where everyone can hang out.

Upstairs and downstairs, there are doors. I can't even count how many rooms there are.

Giant 3D glowing portraits of every Gunner Wolves player cover the walls, all of them wearing their jerseys like this place is part mansion, part sports museum.

Further back, there's a long, dark-wood dining table near a kitchen that looks big enough to run a restaurant out of.

I take a slow breath, tipping my head back to track the height of the ceiling.

Beside me, Garrett whistles. "What is this place!" he breathes.

His voice has that rare, exquisite tone he only brings out when he's violently impressed.

"It's ridiculously beautiful," I say, though I hate how good it is. Considering the house doesn't belong to me or my bestie, it belongs to the person I should give a very negative f**k about.

The team's already spreading out, dropping bags onto the black leather couches.

Mikael walks in from the kitchen holding a chilled bottle of champagne.

He twists off the wire cage, and the cork flies up to the ceiling with a loud pop that should make everyone scream.

Foam sprays over the nearest couches. The room bursts into shouting and applause.

"Welcome to The Hyde!" Mikael yells, holding the bottle up. "We made it, GunnerFuckers!"

He lines up a row of glasses on the center table and starts pouring, turning to face the room.

"Okay! Quick house rules before anybody gets too comfortable!"

He points the bottle neck around like a teacher with a ruler. "This is the team house. Everyone keeps it as clean as your mama raised you to do."

He works his way around the room, pouring into Zykiel's glass first.

"Rule number one—wash your darn plates! My mama didn't raise none of you, but she'll come back from the dead to whoop yo ass if you leave dirty dishes."

The rook shakes with laughter.

"Rule number two—I don't wanna see panties on the floor. I don't wanna see used condoms near my breakfast."

"Shut up, Mikael!" someone yells from the couch, and everyone loses it. Including Garrett.

He grabs two full glasses and walks straight toward Garrett and me.

"Why aren't you two holding a glass?" He hands one to each of us. "We're doing a proper welcome."

"We're on the clock," I smile, taking the glass anyway, because apparently my professionalism has a two-second expiration.

"Tour hasn't officially started until tomorrow morning. Drink up." He winks.

Garrett takes a sip immediately and lets out a big sigh. "Hmm. Good stuff. That's not a cheap brand."

"I'm glad you like it," Mikael says, already turning back to the rest of the team.

Before anyone else can talk, the front doors sweep open, and every head turns toward the entrance.

Garrett and I, our glasses both stop halfway to our lips.

A woman steps into the entryway.

She's tall, with long black hair that falls over one shoulder in soft waves.

A long black leather coat brushes her calves as she walks, and underneath it is a chain top that defines her cleavage.

Her black fishnet tights disappear into a pair of high, red bottom black heels that somehow don't slow her down.

Then… bags. Bunch of shopping bags that should be impossible for just one person to carry. But she's carrying them with a sleek level of perfection that tells me she lives and breathes with shopping.

She slides her pair of dark sunglasses down her nose with one finger, slowly.

"Hello, house," she says, voice smooth, totally unbothered by the fact she just silenced an entire room without trying.

Show-off.

"Hey, Cleo!" A few players call out greetings. Someone raises a glass toward her.

I lean closer to Garrett. "Who… the hell is that?"

He drops his whisper against my ear. "That's Cleopatra Dallas. Zykiel's girlfriend for years."

My heart quickly dips into my belly for reasons I don't understand.

I shift back to my position immediately, regretting ever asking that question.

Zykiel's girlfriend.

For… YEARS.