Page 1 of Wanting the Winger

ChapterOne

Bash

“Damn,bro.The resemblance between you and your son is uncanny.”

My teammate Carter cuts a glare at me.“Stop calling Darling my son.”

I can’t help smirking as I check out the photo he just showed me after we finished a six-mile run.Even though it’s August, his wife Suki already had family photos done for their holiday cards this year, and they include the family pet, a pig named Darling.

“The girls call him their brother and Suki calls him her son.Why you gotta be so cold?”

“He’s a two-hundred-and-eighty-two-pound pig and he ate one of my hockey sticks the other day.He’s lucky I even let him live in the house.”

Our teammate Leo shoves his shoulder.“I know you’re not fat-shaming my nephew.I’ll fucking fight you.”

Carter shrugs and pulls off his sweat-soaked T-shirt.“You’re both uninvited from fondue night.”

“The fuck we are,” I say.“Let me ask your boss about that.”

Harry, one of Suki’s best friends, is a chef.Once a month, he helps Suki host a fondue party for their family and close friends.It always has a huge spread of perfectly seasoned and cooked steak, chicken, vegetables and potatoes for the cheese fondue and assorted fruits and sweets for the chocolate fondue.It’s my favorite meal of every month.

“Remind my boss who really wears the pants in our relationship,” Carter says lightly.“I’m the man and I make the rules.”

I scoff and reach for my phone.“I’ll let her know.”

He frowns.“No, don’t.”

“That’s what I thought.”I glance at my phone screen, finding messages waiting.

One is from Jana, who delivers my groceries.

Jana: They didn’t have broccolini but they had broccoli so I got that.And they didn’t have Junior Mints so I got mint M&Ms.

I roll my eyes and thumbs-up her message.It’s fine on the broccoli, but not the candy.I’ll have to stop on my way home later to find Junior Mints for my new roommate.

She’s the one who sent the other message waiting for me.

Lainey: Running late.Can’t fit everything in my car so I’m unpacking and trying again.It’s not as fun as Tetris.

My jaw tenses.Why the fuck isn’t Shane, her fiancé, packing his car up with her shit and driving her here?

Because he’s a piece of shit.I already knew that, but I seem to be the only one.Lainey was cozied up to his side during their engagement party two months ago in Columbus, my hometown.And her brother Eric, who’s been one of my best friends since we were kids, thinks Shane’s good enough for his sister.

Not even close.When Lainey, who recently finished her master’s degree in microbiology, got a chance to do a semester-long research project with a professor at Cleveland State University, I told her she was staying with me.The house I bought after signing with the Cleveland Comets three years ago has five bedrooms, so I have plenty of room for her.

And this will give me a chance to convince her to dump Shane’s ass.She’s only twenty-four—way too young to be getting married.

If her own brother won’t talk some sense into her, I will.I’ve known her since she was a kindergartener with bright-red pigtails, and I’m not letting her make the biggest mistake of her life.I don’t have to report to training camp for another month, so I’ve got lots of free time.

Carter pats my belly.“You’re looking better than you were before last season started, Fatman.”

“I look fucking great, douchebag.And I did last year, too.”

That’s not entirely true.I have a distinctive voice—it’s deep and gravelly.Since high school, people have gotten a kick out of asking me to say, “I’m Batman” because I’ve got the voice for it.Knowing that, when I picked up fifteen pounds in the last offseason from slacking on my workouts and hiring an Italian chef, they hung up pictures of a heavyset cartoon Batman all over the locker room.And not just our locker room—visiting ones, too.Every time I walked into a room, they’d say, “I’m Fatman.”

So I lost the weight and the joke died—mostly.I didn’t drop the pounds for those fuckers, though, but because I was so much slower.I can’t let myself get out of shape again.Me, Leo and Carter have been running five days a week and lifting with our team trainers this offseason.

“Those are abs, by the way,” I tell Carter.“You probably don’t remember having those since you’re a lazy married guy now.”

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