Page 8 of Total Shutdown

I climb off the stool and rest a hand on Ezra’s shoulder, letting him know we aren’t done with this conversation.

When I push through the patio doors and out into the yard, I hit Accept on the call. “What’s up?”

“Where are you? I’ve been at your door for ages.”

My goalie is as relaxed as they come. He doesn’t get worked up off the ice or even at the crease, making him one of the best in the league. Though, right now, he sounds borderline frantic.

“I’m at Alyssa and Dom’s, and I won’t be back for a while.” I pause. “What happened?”

He releases a long breath. “I think I fucked up, man.”

I stop walking. “Are we talking hockey or something else?”

“Technically both.”

I swivel back around and watch as Alyssa talks with Ezra through the glass door.

“Go on.”

Archer clears his throat, and his surroundings turn quiet, like he’s moved somewhere more private than outside my front door. I hear a car door shut and another sigh.

“Want me to guess?” I say, figuring this is hard for him to admit.

He chuckles low. “Yeah. Why not?”

I smirk, thinking of all the possible ways the biggest NHL playboy could land himself in shit. “You got into it with a girl last night, and she turned out to be even kinkier than you. When she pulled out the strap-on, you winced but went along with being pegged anyway. Trouble is, now you can’t sit down.”

Expecting him to laugh, I’m surprised but even more concerned when he doesn’t react.

“I fucked another dude’s girl.”

“What?”

His voice is hoarse, steeped in regret. “I didn’t know until this morning. Last night, after you left with Collins, I stayed behind for a while and then went to a club with some of the other guys. They left around one a.m., and that’s when this hot-as-fuck blonde started talking to me at the bar.” He puffs out a despondent breath. “I was planning to leave alone for once, but she was too fine to turn down, and after a couple more beers, my inhibitions dropped. So, I took her back to my place and fucked her brains out.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “And how do you know she’s got a guy?”

“Well, that’s where it gets really interesting. Honestly, she kind of looked familiar last night, but I chalked it up to the beer goggles and that she was your typical supermodel-type girl. She ended up staying over since we had gone at it all night, and in the morning, while she was taking a shower in my en suite, her phone lit up with an incoming call.” He swallows audibly. “The contact picture was Shane Stevens—the defenseman who got dropped to the farm team three seasons back.”

Fuck. I move my phone from one ear to the other. “And you’re sure she’s his girl and not, like, his sister or something?”

He chuckles, but there’s zero humor behind it. “Unless she calls him Sweet Cheeks for a joke, then, no, I’m guessing they aren’t related.”

I switch the call to hands-free and pull up my browser. “What was her name?”

Silence.

“Archer, what was her name?” I repeat.

“I … think it was …”

My head lops between my shoulders, and I squeeze my eyes shut. “You don’t remember, do you?”

“I think it began with aK.”

I bring the phone back to my ear.

“What do you think I should do?” he asks with hope in his voice, like I somehow have all the answers.

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