Page 1 of Heartbreak Hockey
Prologue
JACK
Me: Shit. You should see this place. This is it. This is the night.
Hittingsend, I stare awe-struck at the sheer size of the chandeliers—how do they even clean those?—and wonder at the fairy lights blinking magical ambiance my way. The flowers alone. All freshly cut. All out of season, which means the restaurant pays a mint to have them imported regularly.
There are so many pieces of cutlery spread before me, I have no idea which is for what. How awesome is that? I was even offered sparkling or distilled water rather than having a glass of tap water shoved at me. The napkin is folded to look like a bird of paradise and sits perched in my wine glass. I whip out my phone again to snap a photo and send it to the group.
Casey:Steal the spoons.
Stacey:And the forks.
Dirk:Why are we leaving out the knives?
Me:Whichever one of us makes the NHL first takes us here for dinner?
Dash:Not if he really does ask you to marry him. It’ll be too sacred or whatever.
Rhett’s not in this chat. I created it with the sole purpose of talking about this night. One I’ve waited ages for.
The conversation devolves into bets on whether Rhett’s going to ask me or not and I put my phone away. I’m early. Usually am. It’s something that’s been drilled into me. One of my dads is an active member of the Royal Canadian Navy, set to retire at the end of this year. We’re fifteen minutes early to everything.
Rhett’s not even late and they weren’t going to seat me until he showed up, but the hostess felt sorry for me and showed me to our table. It’s given me time to be an over-excited puppy, trampling all over the stuff on the table.
On the minute, Rhett strides through the restaurant, trailing the hostess. He’s so handsome. Even with this jet-black hair grown out as it is, reaching to his nape, he’s every bit the aristocrat he’s always been. It’s neatly kempt, with the long bangs falling over his ears just so. He’s too well put together for a hockey player, dressed in a cashmere turtleneck and slacks.
It comes with the territory, I guess. His father’s the mayor of Vancouver. His mother is one of the top lawyers in the city. Both his younger brothers play hockey too, with their sights set on the NHL. Even his little sister plays. Athletics runs in the family on both sides. His parents don’t play anything professionally, but they’re fucking good at tennis and with how savage they are on the court, it’s easy to see where the competitive nature of their children comes from.
Rhett will be the first in his family to play in the NHL. He was drafted by the New York Eagles.
He leans to press a kiss to my lips before he sits his large form across from me and flashes his million-dollar smile. “Hello, sweetheart.”
Rhett’s aristocratic upbringing has made him all proper. He’s never sounded much like a hockey player, unlike me who’s a crude piece of shit on and off the ice. Um, so long as Dad’s not around. The captain doesn’t care about swearing and we both get scolded by Dad for our dirty mouths.
“Hey. This is nice,” I tell him. “Hope you’re paying.”
He sniffs. “Of course, I’m paying.”
He always pays. He prefers to pay and since he likes to frequent places like this, I’m glad to let him. Otherwise, we’d be dining at the local fast-food joint. He picks up the long black wine list. “I’ll order us a nice bottle. We’re celebrating.”
Everything became official this week. Rhett’s so good at hockey, he had teams fighting over him. I’m so fucking proud of my man.
He orders us a bottle of the Tinhorn Creek Cab Franc. I order the juiciest steak I can find on the menu with two lobster tails, and he does the same. All the while I’ve got a giddy smile on my face. Our best memories together dance across my mind, like the day first started fucking.
We started playing for the Kelowna Wildcats in the American Hockey League the same year. Even though we’ve lived in the same city our whole lives, we went to different high schools and our paths only crossed when we played hockey against each other. I was dating someone else at the end of high school—Rex Milton—and while I definitely thought Rhett was smoking hot, my interest was with Rex. When I got to my first day of AHL hockey training camp, I was single, and my and Rhett’s attraction was instant. How could it not be? Watching each other on the ice was a drug of its own, which led to many passionate fucks in locker rooms all around the continent.
The way he’d pin me to the wall with all that raw power and shove his cock into me … it gives me shivers now. We became an item quickly and made big plans of getting drafted together. We’d marry in Italy and then have enough children to start our own hockey team.
Our relationship so far has been three years of bliss and I know I’m young, but he’s it for me.
Once the server has removed all our dinner plates, we splurge and get dessert, something we usually try to stay away from, but it’s the off-season. We’ll do a long run along the seawall tomorrow or something.
While we wait for our orders of cake and crème brûlée, he reaches for my hands and cups them in his large ones. “Do you still plan to play for Kelowna this year?”
I frown. “Of course, I do.” He knows this.
Unfortunately, things don’t turn out as neatly as they do in Hallmark Christmas movies. I did not get drafted, despite everyone—including Coach—telling me how much interest there’s been. My stats are pretty close to Rhett’s, but while he had agents fighting over him, I didn’t even have one approach me.
