Page 7 of Wild Blades

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 likesyoung 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 afuckingtactlessprick. 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’samazingand the NHL’shottest 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.

CHAPTER TWO

Wade

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

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