Power Play (Nashville Assassins: Next Generation Book 2) Read online

  “Not the first time I’ve heard that.”

  “And you don’t want to let anyone get close.”

  “Neither do you.” I shrug.

  He doesn’t look at me as he hit the start button on our game. “So, good talk.”

  “Real good talk.”

  Like the men we are, we start our game and leave our relationship issues behind us. I won’t lie, though; Julia is on my mind, and I wish she weren’t. I do hate that she is in a relationship and getting married to someone else. I wanted that to be me, not to be the one who was hurt by her, but that isn’t the case. She gets to hurt people and be happy. It isn’t fair. Which I guess means Wes is right. I haven’t moved on. But that doesn’t feel right. I don’t want Julia, but I really don’t want anyone else either. No one has caught my eye or made me want to be close. To move on.

  Maybe I’m not even trying.

  Or maybe no one has given me a reason to try.

  There is a knock at the front door before it opens, and our buddy and linemate, Aiden Brooks, comes into the living room. “Who’s moving?”

  “Whore ex-fiancée,” I answer as Wes’s and my characters do a dance after winning.

  “No shit. Was that the bastard Phil?”

  Wes nods. “Yup, but we can’t kick his ass. Mama Hoenes said so.”

  “Well, that sucks,” Aiden says before dropping down beside Wes. “It’d be an easy ass-kicking anyway. Pretty sure Shelli could kick his ass.”

  I scoff. “Shelli could beat all of us up. They don’t call her Slap Shot Shelli for nothing.”

  Wes chuckles as Aiden smiles proudly. “I only get the loving side of that woman.”

  We both laugh at that. Sure, he gets the loving side of his beautiful fiancée, but Shelli Adler also does not take his shit. She is fierce and strong, knows what she wants. Lucky for Aiden, she wants him. “Sure, you do,” I tease, and he flashes me a cheeky grin.

  “On the topic of my soon-to-be bride. We set a date.”

  Both Wes and I look up. Word on the street was they were going to wait awhile before they got married. There was no rush, Shelli is on the younger side, and they didn’t need to be married to be happy. Apparently that isn’t the case anymore?

  When neither of us says another word, Aiden realizes we’re waiting. “Oh, next summer. July.”

  “Cool,” Wes says, hitting start once more. “I’ll be there.”

  “Yup, just make sure the bar is stacked,” I say as I look back to the game.

  Aiden chortles a bit before leaning on the sofa. “Um, so my brother is going to be my best man, but I was wondering if you two would be my groomsmen.”

  I look up just as Wes does, and I hit the pause button. “Don’t you have better friends than us?” I ask, and Aiden grins.

  “I like you guys more. We’re the McBroenes line.”

  I want to roll my eyes. I hate the nickname the announcers have given our line. We couldn’t be the “badass Assassins top line motherfuckers” or something awesome like that? No. They smushed our last names together, and boom, a nickname was born. So stupid.

  “I feel closer to you guys than I do some of the guys I grew up with.”

  I can’t hate on him for it. I like him and Wes more than anyone else too. Most of the guys tease us because we spend so much time together, but we just click. Probably why we’re such badass motherfuckers on the ice. See? The name fits!

  Wes slaps him on the back. “Yeah, bro. I got you.”

  Aiden beams at him before looking over at me.

  “If you still like me then, yeah, I guess.”

  “Please don’t sound excited.”

  I chuckle as I lean back, propping my ankle on my knee. “I am. Hopefully, there are some hot-ass bridesmaids. Who we got?”

  “Her cousin, Amelia, and Allison Titov, and then her sister, Posey, who—hey, did you guys hear—might be our new assistant coach for special teams?”

  I perk a brow, and Wes nods. “I did hear talk, but I thought she said no?”

  “Yeah, since she thought she was going to Colorado for some guy. But he didn’t want her like we all told her he didn’t, and now she’s back. There is really no reason for her not to take the job. She’s a genius playmaker,” Aiden says, and Wes points to him.

  “Don’t we use some of her plays now?”

  He nods. “Yeah, but Titov wants to bring her in full time.”

  “Cool. If she’s good, we can use her. Our power play is a little wack right now,” I say honestly. I can’t place Shelli’s sister. I’m sure I must have met her, but if she’s anything like her sister, I would remember. Shelli is an iron fist in a velvet glove. A little fairy who could snap your neck. I hear all the Adler kids are like that, though. Dream-chasing badasses.

  “It’s not too bad,” Aiden says as he stands. “But it can be better.”

  “Sure can,” Wes says as they shake hands, and then Aiden stops in front of me, shaking mine.

  “You out of here?” I ask.

  “Yeah. Shelli is on the phone with her mom in the car, which is why she didn’t come in. We’re going to dinner.”

  I waggle my brows at him. “I could eat.”

  He shakes his head, grinning. “Nope, I’m wining and dining my girl for some freaky stuff tonight,” he says with a wink, and then he heads out.

  “Is it bad that I’m jealous he gets freaky stuff tonight?” I ask as I glance over at Wes.

  He rolls his eyes. “It pisses me off that we’re friends with him, and because of that, I can’t mess with his sister.”

  I nod then point to him. “I’ll let you have that.”

  “Good. But I’m not letting you have the jealousy shit. You can have the freaky stuff. You just gotta find someone to be freaky with.”

  “Seems like you have,” I say with a nod, and he glares. “If Stella wants you, I’m sure Aiden would be cool with it.”

  He looks toward the TV, ending our conversation. “Good talk.”

  “Real good talk.”

  I’m not sure it was a good talk, wasn’t very productive, but one thing is for sure.

  I may have to put myself out there before I start dwelling on my ex-fiancée again.

  More so than I already am.

  Chapter Three

  Posey

  I’m pretty sure I am mirroring a scene from Lilo and Stitch.

  But instead of Elvis, I’m listening to Lewis Capaldi’s “Someone You Loved.”

  On repeat.

  There are tears in my eyes and streaks of past tears along the sides of my face. My nose is inflamed from rubbing it and all the snot. My heart hurts, my stomach aches, and my body feels heavy.

  I am dead inside.

  I’m unsure if I’m crying because I made a total fool of myself and flew all the way to Colorado to profess my love for a man who didn’t love me, or if I’m crying because he didn’t feel the same and I was convinced he did. Either way, my good mate Lewis is singing to my soul. Or making it worse. Not sure. The jury is still out.

  It all just burns, though. I’ve been home for a couple weeks now, and I still find myself having moments when I need Lewis to sing my pain. I can’t seem to forget the look on Maxim’s face when I admitted to being in love with him. The rejection he so easily delivered. Seeing my total opposite stand in his house and in his arms once I left. It didn’t even seem like Maxim cared that I loved him. He didn’t love me, and it was that simple. Why would he, though, when he could have someone like Stella Brooks? Super-hot model or kinda chunky tomboy? It’s a clear choice, I guess. But man if I didn’t want him to feel what I felt for him.

  On an exhale, I close my eyes and press my palms into my chest, singing loudly and with all the heartache I assume Lewis is feeling too. I want to believe I’m not in love with Maxim anymore. It isn’t like we ever kissed or had sex, nothing of the sort, but I miss him. I do know that feeling. My craving for him is bone-deep. Our jokes, our similar likes, the time we spent together on the ice; it was nice. He w