Page 2 of Big Rucking Disaster

“Jesus Christ, Carly.” I pulled away. “Give it a rest. Give it a goddamn rest.”

“Hey, everything okay?” Roger gently eased Cassandra into Travis’s arms and approached Carly and me. “There are little ears.”

Speaking of ears…mine burned. “I’m sorry.” I faced Roger. “My bad.” I pivoted to my girlfriend. “I’ve had a rough day, and I need to be alone. I’ll, uh, call you.”

Before anyone could respond, I beat a path to the exit.

Chapter One

Yardley

“Aw, fuck.” I eyed my phone. “Today? It has to be today?”

Hugo gazed up from his coffee. “Today is always today, my friend. That’s the way the world works. Oh, did I show you Midnight’s latest trick?” He queued up his phone and hit play.

I watched while Midnight the Samoyed twirled on her back paws. Kind of adorable. “How did a white dog get the name Midnight? And it looks like she’s shedding.” I spotted some of her notoriously thick fur flying.

“The family we rescued her from named her. I think the kids had a hand in that. And yeah, she’s molting. It’s March, spring is on the way, and she’s…shedding like crazy.”

“Your friends are watching her next week, right?”

Hugo grinned. “Renee and Cope, yeah. She’ll get to play with the twins, Matthew and Scarlett, who are getting mighty big.” He swiped to another picture of the toddlers. His best friend and her husband had become parents after years of trying, and theirjoy at the antics of their twins was visible in all the photos Hugo shared. “I can’t wait to see Grindstone perform. Axel’s been away for three weeks now.” He pouted.

"And yet you’ve survived.” Hugo’s rockstar fiancé was on tour right now with his band. The journey was ending with a big performance at Massey Hall in Toronto next week.

“I miss him.”

“You’re marrying him in less than a month.”

“Well, there is that.” He grinned. “And you’re still standing up for me, right?”

I’d been surprised at the invitation. Since my divorce, though, I’d grown closer to Hugo. My ex…well, the less said, the better. Still, I’d have thought Hugo would pick Renee. With the twins, though, she didn’t want to commit. “For sure.”

Axel’s bandmate and best friend Ed, was standing up for him.

They were opting for a small ceremony with just close friends. Hugo’s parents werenotinvited, and Axel didn’t have any blood family around. What the men had were Hugo’s sister and her kids, as well as Axel’s bandmates and a select few of Hugo’s teaching friends. Found family. In some cases, far more important than blood.

The bell rang.

Hugo pocketed his phone. “Oh, hey. What was thefucking todayabout?” He slung his messenger bag over his shoulder as we prepared to leave the staff room—him for his music room and me for the gym.

“I’ve got a rugby player coming to speak to the students.”

“What’s wrong with that? I love when guests come and speak to the kids. Reinforces what I’m telling them but that they ignore because it's coming from me. And gives me a break from teaching.” He grinned yet again.

Damn guy was happy all the fucking time.

Not that he was yucking my yum, but I wasn’t as gloriously happy. I wasn’t in love. I was newly divorced and just a little bitter. “This guy? Captain of Vancouver’s Orcas. Big showoff. Huge social media presence.” Damn attractive, gorgeous girlfriend, and probably standoffish. Probably thought he was better than us just working as physical education teachers.

“Johnnie…” Hugo snapped his fingers.

“Johnnie Leclerc.” I squinted. “How do you know him?”

“The local news did a segment about them. The team, I mean. How they’re on this winning streak, but Montréal keeps breaking it. They’re headed to national finals, if they beat Calgary and Winnipeg—which should be easy. If Montréal beats Toronto and Halifax, then the Orcas are against their archrivals again.”

I scratched my stubbled chin. “I didn’t know any of that. I’ve been focused on the Canucks this month.” Vancouver’s professional hockey team was actually doing really well, and it looked like they might make the playoffs. Undoubtedly, they’d lose at some point. It’d been over thirty years since a Canadian team had hoisted Lord Stanley’s Cup. That drought was almost as old as I was. I’d been all of seven when the Canadiens won in ’93. I wasn’t overly optimistic about Canada’s chances. I was a diehard Canuck fan until they lost for the season—then I’d cheer any and all Canadian teams who advanced.

“You know the Canucks aren’t going to win.”

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