Wanting to Forget (Jordie's Tale) (Assassins Series Book 7) Read online

  The Bellevue Bullies Series

  Boarded by Love

  Clipped by Love

  Hooked by Love (Fall 2015)

  The Assassins Series

  Taking Shots

  Trying to Score

  Empty Net

  Falling for the Backup

  Blue Lines

  Breaking Away

  Laces and Lace

  A Very Merry Hockey Holiday

  Overtime (Summer 2015)

  Standalone

  Let it be Me

  Taking Risks Series

  The Whiskey Prince

  Becoming the Whiskey Princess

  Jordie Thomas is looking for something to take his mind off of the woman he let go—or rather, pushed away—and the terrifying prospect of what will happen if his broken leg doesn’t heal. He’s ready to get back to his family and fellow teammates on the Nashville Assassins and get back onto the ice. However, with his injured leg in the way and his mind clouded by a certain woman, he needs a break to clear his head and his heart. With New Orleans in his sights, can this player find a way to get back to the crazy and reckless life he used to live? Find out as author Toni Also takes readers on a wild journey in this Assassins novella.

  Jordie Thomas knew he should stop her.

  He should, but he couldn’t.

  Pressing his lips to hers once more, he held the door open, the cold air coming in a gust as she rushed out, pulling it shut behind her. Holding the knob in his hand, his eyes fell shut as the sound of her footsteps disappeared and then the slamming of her car door. Leaning his head against the door, he sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  Go after her, he urged himself. Don’t let her go.

  But he didn’t move.

  When he didn’t hear her car start, he slowly made it to the window, favoring his mending leg to peek outside. She was in the car, as he assumed, but fuck, she was crying. Hard. He usually didn’t care when girls cried, having watched his mom cry for every one of her husbands, but he’d truly never believed that she cared. Though now watching her jerk with her sobs, Jordie couldn’t handle it. Looking away, he fell into the chair beside the window before leaning forward, cupping his face in his hands as he sucked in deep breaths, letting them out in a whoosh. This was his chance; he had time to get out there, to stop her, but still he didn’t move.

  He could blame it on his leg. After snapping it in a hockey game back in October, he was still recovering from all the surgeries. The pain was dull due to all the crazy sex they’d just had, but he was fine. He could blame it on the fact that she was his best friend’s sister, but that hadn’t stopped him from fucking her, had it? He could blame it on all kinds of things, come up with reason after reason for why they couldn’t be together, but the answer was pretty straightforward.

  An answer he was going to fully ignore at the moment.

  When he heard the car finally start and then her tires crunching through the snow, he let his head hang as he squeezed his eyes shut. Reaching for the whiskey that sat on the table, he took a long swig but then pulled it from his mouth quickly.

  He could taste her on the bottle.

  Fuck.

  Throwing the bottle against the wall, he pushed himself up out of the chair and wobbled toward the fridge for anything that was just as strong. His heart was pounding, his blood burning in his skin, and he just felt worthless. How could he have let it get this far? How could he have fallen for someone when he’d sworn off love for so long? It was just too easy. All she had to do was walk into the room and he was a goner.

  He usually didn’t like girls who gave him shit, but she did, tenfold. The first time she met him, she called him an asshole. While yes, he was just that, he liked that she called him on his bullshit and she made it known that she wasn’t going to deal with it. She was strong, beautiful, and fucking talented. She could skate circles around a lot of his professional hockey-playing friends. She was a beast. He loved her tenacity, her drive, and most of all, she fucked like a damn dream. God, he could still feel her on him, tasting him, and driving him wild with need.

  She was just different.

  He never fucked a girl continuously. He’d fuck some chick over and over again in a twenty-four-hour span, but never two days back-to-back, and he never let a girl back in his bed who had been there before. But she was different. He couldn’t get enough; he had to have her, craved her, and it was a scary feeling. When he’d moved home to Colorado, she’d actually stayed with him so they could fuck. Never had a girl lived with him, but she did, and he didn’t want her to leave. Still didn’t want to let her leave, but what could he do? He owed it to her not to allow her to fall even more. Now, at least, she could get over him. Live a good life with some dumbass who wouldn’t equal up to him in the least, but she’d be happy. The whole white picket fence bullshit.

  She’d like that.

  As long as it had a rink and a fucking beagle.

  That was what she wanted in her Happily Ever After.

  He could give it to her, he could, but would it last?

  Would he love her for the rest of his life? And if he did, would she love him? It was a risk, one he had no intention of taking, so he might as well let it go.

  He had to get rid of these feelings.

  Lock them down.

  Throwing the freezer open, he found a bottle of vodka and started to chug, hoping to dull the pain. He didn’t want to feel like this. He was the one who let her go, who didn’t give her the love she wanted. He could see it in her eyes, had been seeing it for the last week, but he’d ignored it. Love was messy. Heartbreak was worse. He had lived his thirty-one years a single man, and he planned to die that way. He wasn’t going to let anyone in ever again. He just couldn’t.

  But somehow, she had wiggled her way inside, and now that she was gone, he missed her. He didn’t miss anyone, but he missed her. It was such a life-altering feeling. He’d gone so long without needing anyone, but now he wanted the one person he knew if he was to hurt would devastate him. He didn’t need that right now. He had to rehab his leg; he had to get ready to go back to Nashville, to his team, the Nashville Assassins, to play the greatest game on earth.

  He didn’t have time miss or even love her. She deserved better, someone who wanted to take the risk on love. One who didn’t care about his past or the betrayal that still haunted him or even the fear of losing his best friend. He didn’t let people in, but somehow this brother and sister duo had gotten in and he couldn’t lose them both. He had to let her go. It was what was for the best; he just wished it didn’t hurt so badly.

  Chugging more of the bitter liquid, he closed his eyes, hoping for oblivion. Letting the bottle hit the table hard, he rubbed his eyes, hoping to feel something other than the pain, but still it was there. He had to forget, but how could he? You don’t forget someone like her.

  Kacey King left her mark on him.

  He was hers.

  When his phone signaled a text, his head popped up, making him dizzy. Shaking his head, he reached for his phone, and he hated how much he hoped it was from her. He should have known better than to sleep with her. He should have known at first glance that she would be his downfall. Her eyes spoke to him, those gorgeous brown eyes that could undress him in two seconds flat. Her dark brown hair fell along her breasts in the most delectable way. Her ass was a thing of the gods. She squatted like a good girl should, and man, he loved getting his hands on those globes of beauty.

  And fuck, she tasted good.

  Like honey almost.

  Ugh, why did he let her go?

  Opening his eyes, he saw tha