Page 1 of Ready to Snap
PROLOGUE — WILL
“We’ve been through this,” Russ growls. “It was just an accident. I don’t have anger issues.”
Except, it’s not entirely true. I don’t hold it against him—his heart was in the right place, even if he nearly murdered a man with his skate. Russ is what I would call a consent king, and seeing anyone being taken advantage of triggers him. To say it was an altercation is an understatement. He was being pulled off of the opposing fucker—player—when the injury happened. It was technically an accident, but he deserved it for grabbing a physical therapist’s ass during a game. I would’ve done the same thing in Russ’ shoes—or, I guess, skates.
Group therapy has been interesting since the incident, and has taken the spotlight off of me. The online sessions I attend include three other athletes who’ve become good friends. Personally, I believe every athlete should be in therapy, and I really enjoy the dynamics of the group I’m in. Ronan’s an Irish soccer player—I refuse to say he playsfootball. He hates it, which only makes me say it more. Russ is a hockey goalie in Canada. And then there’s my favoritefriend from Down Under—Lucas. Luc doesn’t have an official reason for therapy. He just believes everyone should work on themselves, seeing the value in it. Ronan and Russ, on the other hand, are mandated by either their leagues or teams.
Then there’s me. The fuck-up. Being a New Englander traded to New York, I’ve been subjected to the heckles of heckles by the fans. But what was my alternative? Not play?
I think the fuck not. Even the guys in therapy agree: a trade is better than retiring. I only have a few years left playing, if I’m lucky.
After nearly ruining my career, the league forced me to increase my online therapy sessions—therapy I desperately needed after a severe bout of depression a few years ago. I don’t blame the league for insisting I attend additional therapy. I may or may not have tried to detach the balls of an asshole linebacker after practice. Not my proudest moment. Harlan fucked my girlfriend. He knew better. You don’t fuck around with your teammate’s girl.
Once I was sent to New York, I was forced to deal with the Cougar's PR manager, Elle. She’s been trying to clean up my image, but has mostly been a pain in my ass. I’ll admit, I enjoy it a bit too much. It doesn’t help that she’s fucking gorgeous and completely off-limits. I’ve only been giving her a hard time to avoid the ache in my chest every time I see her. Being an asshole will keep her at arm’s length.
Our therapist, Vicky, has Russ retell the particulars of the accident for what feels like the hundredth time. I zone out, and in the middle of it, he snaps, “What’s so fucking hilarious, Ronan?” Calling out Ronan brings my attention back to the call. Ronan’s grinning at his phone like an idiot, and there’s only one reason the man has stars in his eyes—it has to be a woman.
Ronan shrugs and insists, “Nothin’.” I do my best to stifle a laugh. He’s a terrible liar.
Russ continues, “As I was saying??—”
“Actually, it’s not nothing,” Ronan rushes out. “I have something I’d like to share. I’ve met someone.”
“Met someone?” Russ cocks an eyebrow, and I can’t help doing the same.
“I suppose I’m using ‘met’ loosely; we’ve been talking for over a year. This past month, things have been shifting between us to the point that I haven’t dated… anyone. No one interests me. I know this isn’t meant for dating advice, but I don’t know what to fucking do!” He rakes a hand through his hair, mussing it, then blows out a long breath. “I’m like a damn teenager with a crush.”
Part of me wants to admit I’ve been pining after someone I can’t have. Every time I see Elle, my heart leaps out of my damn chest. Calling it a crush doesn’t even scratch the surface.
“Ronan, we’ve been over this,” Vicky, our therapist, interjects. “We’d like to keep our f-bombs to a minimum here. This is a safe space. Russ, can we pause on your incident and circle back to it?” He nods, and she continues, “Ronan, feel free to tell us about this woman.”
“How do you know it’s a woman?” Lucas asks. I’m not surprised—Luc is the most vocal of the four of us when it comes to love and relationships. He loves people for who they are, not how they identify. Having him in our group sessions has helped me be more inclusive, and to never assume someone’s sexuality.
“True, a valid point, Lucas,” Vicky agrees.
“Yes, it’s a woman,” Ronan sighs. “She’s my mate’s ex.”
“No, nope,noooo!” I bark. “Run away, change your name, change your phone number.”
“It’s not like that,” Ronan insists, hands in surrender. “They dated over a decade ago, and we’re just friends. She interviewed me when I played for Ireland in the World Cup, and we kept in touch. She’s smart, fucking beautiful…” Vicky gives Ronan a look of warning, and he blows out a long breath. “In the last month, we’ve been… flirting? At least I am. She’s coming to Ireland in a few weeks for work. What should I do?”
Vicky smiles and offers, “You could ask her on a date when she’s there, after discussing it with your friend? But as far as relationships are concerned, I’d highly recommend that any potential partners you gentlemen court are privy to the fact you’re attending therapy. Don’t wait until eight months into the relationship to discuss your mental health.”
Russ folds his arms over his chest and growls, “I don’t have mental health issues.”
“We know,” Luc, Ronan and I say in unison, making us all laugh.
“I say go for it,” Luc suggests with a wide grin. “What’s the worst that can happen? Single mums are hot.”
I don’t remember the last person he was with and can’t help asking, “When was the last time you dated, Luc?”
“It’s been a while,” he admits. “I think I need a change. The new Irish rugby league has been interested in me for a while. I should move to Cork, then Ronan’s girl can match me with one of her friends.” He winks, and Ronan cocks an eyebrow, then they both burst into laughter. “What do you say, mate?” Ronan smirks but doesn’t reply.
“All right, gentlemen, let’s stay on track.” Vicky pushes the glasses up her nose. “Will, would you like to share an update?”
“No update. Elle has been riding my ass harder than usual. There’s a charity event she wants me to participate in, but I don’t want to attend.”
“What event?” she asks, jotting something in her notebook.
