Page 17 of Bad Wolf

We hold our glasses up in a toast and echo his sentiments.

“Now, I need to hear every idiotic thing this boy has gotten up to over the years,” Jim laughs as he sits back down next to his wife.

My dad pats Casey roughly on the knee and settles in, “This is gonna be good, Son.”

Most of Theo’s firefighter buddies left after the ceremony to catch their flight, so only our family and teammates remain.

“Before all that,” Casey chuckles, “I’d like to thank you all for being here with us today. We know we sprang it on you all last minute and we’re both grateful for how you rallied.” He stands then and moves to the back of the chair he and Anna were sitting on.

“My gorgeous wife, today you have made me the happiest man alive. I’ll promise to honor those vows every day of our lives and love you beyond even that.” He bends to kiss her sweetly.

The next half hour goes on just like that, my mom and Lexie telling a tale or two until the girls feel the call of the disco ball and scatter off again, leaving only my brothers and teammates once more.

Casey sighs, knowing exactly what’s coming, all of us eager to outdo the other on a stupid story, but he cuts in before any of us even open our mouths.

“I’d actually like to put a pin in the embarrassment that’s about to ensue to check in on you.”

I look around to see who he’s talking about, find everyone staring back at yours truly, and choke on the mouthful of whiskey I just drank.

“Me? Why the hell do you wanna talk about me? I’m literally letting you have an entire day of my—” Rex coughs, “sorry,ourbig weekend, and you want to talk about me?” I try for egotistical but it falls flat.

“No one has had a chance to talk about last night and we wanna know how you’re doing with seeing Wren after six years.”

I run my hand down my face and then sink the expensive drink.

“Jesus. I’m fine,” I say, narrowing my eyes at Jason and Scott across from me. “What do you idiots want from me? Goddamn tears?”

Troy stays silent beside me, his eyes fixed on his drink.

“Fucks sake!” I say, agitated, “Do you not remember what happened? Do you not remember me jumping into a packed truck, alone, and driving to college without her? I’m over it, why is no one else?”

I turn to the teammates that aren’t related to me, “You know about this now?”

Callan gives a slow nod while Hollywood speaks, “I mean, kinda, yeah. You were not in a good place last night, man. You nearly started two fights and were way past wasted. I’ve never seen you like that. You have this control about you and your game is off the charts but last night you were just, well, a fucking mess.”

Hence the mighty hangover and not being able to remember much after midnight.

My dad’s stare burns the side of my head, but I don’t want to meet his eyes. I’ll only find worry and disappointment.“Keep a level head,”that’s what he’s always told me, and I always manage to let him down in one way or another.

“I may have lost it for a hot minute there, but I swear I’m good. Don’t spoil your wedding talking about this Case, it’s a waste of good scotch and she’s not worth it. Let’s all move on.” I finally look at my dad, “Please, Dad, tell them.”

He appraises me and it feels like it stretches on and on, but he finally comes to a decision, obviously sensing the need for a change in course, and sits up. Only I know I’ll pay for this when there’s less of an audience.

He’s not done with me and I know it won’t be dropped for long, but he’s not a woodpecker like the rest of them.

He’ll bide his time and before I know it, I’ll be begging him for advice and apologizing for all the ways I manage to fuck up.

“Okay, I’ve got a good one. Remember the time when I came back from awarzoneand you brats had promised you were being good for your mamas, only to find there were very suspicious scorch marks all over the driveway? Who wants to talk about that?”

There’s a collective Madden groan and then Troy bleats out, “We called them FUCKS!” and starts snickering, which sets the rest of us off.

Save for hitting the little dance floor now and again when the DJ plays a banger or the mamas pull us up, that’s pretty much where we stay. Under a clear, starry sky, sipping on expensive whiskey, reminiscing about covering our sticks in fire retardant spray and shooting flaming pucks into an empty oil drum. Nerd or Coralie standing a few feet away with the lawn hose and a bucket of sand, and basically getting away with shit loads of trouble.

I mean, we essentially set fire to flying disks of rubber, two feet from our home—not the brightest game we ever came up with, but I think my slap-shot thanks me for it.

CHAPTERFIVE

WREN

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