Spiked by Love (Bellevue Bullies Series Book 6) Read online

  Spiked by Love

  Bellevue Bullies

  Toni Aleo

  Copyright © 2020 by Toni Aleo

  All rights reserved.

  Spiked by Love is a WORK OF FICTION! No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  This book is for my Bobbie.

  For no other reason but because I love her and I couldn’t do this life without her.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Epilogue

  Also by Toni Aleo

  Acknowledgments

  About Toni Aleo

  Chapter One

  Ally

  “Push! Push! Push!”

  My shorts are going up my ass, and I’m sweating like a whore in church, but it doesn’t matter when I’m on the volleyball court. This is my home. My why. When I was younger, watching my dad play hockey, I always wondered why he lived and breathed it. It’s cold, people are always trying to knock you into a wall, and you’re attempting to get a small little puck past a huge goalie. I would get so frustrated watching him play, but he loved it. He adored it, and soon I fell in love with the game too. It’s kind of hard not to when it’s all I know. Everyone we know is either a part of the National Hockey League or the Nashville Assassins. They’re either in the organization or they play for the team. Growing up as an Assassins kid, you’re bred to bleed purple and black. We all wear our daddy’s numbers on our backs. We go to every game. We all want to be them.

  I was a black sheep for not playing hockey. But in my defense, my auntie Elli gave me a volleyball at a backyard party, and I was done for.

  Elli Adler isn’t really my aunt by blood, but my mom always says you choose your family, and she’s right. I am closer to the Adler family than I am to my own aunts. That’s not anything against my aunts—they’re wonderful, but they were so much younger than my mom—Mom just tends to hang out with her best friend rather than her sisters. Her sisters are twins, and it was hard to get a word in edgewise with those two. In a way, Elli is like my mom’s twin. They grew up together and, to this day, still do everything together. They added in Fallon Brooks, another hockey wife, and the three of them live their best lives. Though, I’m pretty sure all us kids are about to boycott Elli since she is trying to make everyone carb-free.

  I don’t know who thought it was a good idea to take away carbs, but I’m pretty sure there is a special place in hell for them.

  Not my auntie Elli, though. She’s the most amazing, sweetest, strongest woman I know. She loves hard and is hell-bent on teaching us to love ourselves, no matter what. To choose ourselves. She is awesome like that and has always taken credit for my love of volleyball. When I was a senior in high school, I was offered a scholarship to six schools, and she told everyone it was because of her—she gave me the volleyball. But my mom would fire back that it was because of my grades. The two of them weren’t wrong. Not only am I talented, I’m wicked smart. Problem is, I make snap decisions and hardly ever think anything through. Instead of taking one of those scholarships, I decided to travel. I lost a lot of the offers, but it was okay because I always wanted to go to the University of Bellevue.

  I always wanted to be part of the Bullies.

  And here I am.

  It’s my senior year, and I’m ready to kick some major ass.

  I move on the court, calling plays and pushing my team. I have been the captain of the Bellevue Bullies’ volleyball team for two years now. I love it. I love my team; I love my girls. We aren’t ranked yet, but I feel this could be our year to make our mark in the NCAA. It’s my goal, at least, to get my girls in position to be the best they can be. I set the ball for my hitter, and she spikes it perfectly and with ease. We meet in a huddle, patting each other, and then I high-five my hitter, who is also related to me in a really drawn-out way.

  But that’s how life is when you’re associated with the Nashville Assassins. You’re someone’s aunt, cousin, uncle, brother, next of kin, sleeping with this person, Grandma’s dog.

  Yes, that makes no sense and is completely irrelevant, but that’s how it feels most of the time.

  Angie Paxton, my hitter, is my mom’s sister’s husband’s great-niece. We’re cousins? Not sure, but she’s one cool-ass chick, and I love her dearly. I get to take credit for giving her a ball. So, no wonder Elli likes to brag. It’s fun. Angie is way better than anyone I’ve ever met. She is so smart and has great hands. She’s good and tall and can knock the hell out of the ball.

  We are even roommates in our dorm—my doing since her mom, Lucy Paxton, wouldn’t let her stay on campus unless she roomed with someone she knew. Apparently, Lucy knows the trouble her brothers got into when they all went to Bellevue. They’re legendary around here, the Sinclair brothers. All of them went to Bellevue, and all went first round in the draft. They all still play, though the middle one, Jayden Sinclair, who is also the captain of the Assassins, is out with an injury.

  I don’t know if Angie will stay here for long. She only wants to go to school here until she can get into this program that is opening up in South Carolina. Don’t get me wrong. I love nerdy shit, especially stuff that deals with my major, but the shit she’s into is way nerdier than my cup of tea. She starts to talk about it, to try to convince me to go with her to the program, but I’m pretty sure I mirror how my best friend looks when I start talking about my major. With that glazed look and wanting to die from boredom. I have no clue what she is talking about, but it has to do with something about alcoholics or something. It’s complicated, but to her, it’s awesome and she’s excited.

  “Great set,” Angie throws my way, and I smack her hand.

  “Couldn’t do it without you.”

  She beams at me, her deep green eyes blazing as she brushes back her highlighted brown hair. We set up again, and I want to groan when I see my coach is serving. I hate his serves. They’re rough to set because he puts a weird spin on the ball. It’s my job to stop the spin so that Angie can knock the hell out of it. As we set up, I crouch down, watching him, and a wave of emotion washes over me.

  I can’t believe I almost gave this up.

  I almost chased a guy to Texas for a life of uncertainty. Yes, the appeal was there and it would have been fun, but I have it all right now. I can do all the impulsive and crazy things when I finish my job here. I can have love later, even though I so desperately want to be in love. It is not that I can’t be alone, that’s fine, but watching my mom and dad and how much they love each other… I want that. I want that die-for-you kind of love. I wanted it so bad with my ex, but I knew from the jump I didn’t have it. I was trying to shine a turd, and no matter how many people told me
so, I wouldn’t listen.

  I think it had a lot to do with the fact that my best friend was engaged. He’s only twenty, and I’m twenty-four, and it bugged me that he was getting married and I wasn’t. So, I tried to make something out of nothing. Yet now, Asher is coming home, newly single. It’s a good thing I didn’t follow Taco, my ex. If I had, I wouldn’t be where I am. I would have disappointed a lot of people, and I see that now. Before, I didn’t.

  Because of this, I have a new plan. Hang with Asher a lot since I haven’t lived in the same state as him for three and a half years, and I’ll more than likely move when I graduate. Help my team win, graduate, and then find a job in my field of sports psychology. It’s the same field Angie is in, but her focus is geared more toward addiction, while mine is more about anxiety and depression. Our specialties tie in since addiction usually arises for people with anxiety and depression, but I have no desire to go to the program she is pursuing. That would add two more years to my study, and I’m ready to work. I’m ready to help people because it can be rough on athletes. We both know this. Not only are we Assassins kids, but both our dads suffered from addiction. My dad’s was from being injured and getting hooked on pills, and her dad’s was alcohol. It’s hard being a professional athlete and coming from where we do. It only makes sense that we want to help athletes like our fathers.

  It’s a good plan, and I’m ready to execute it.

  Coach throws the ball up and serves it hard to our libero. She passes it up to me, and of course, it’s still spinning. Her passes fucking suck ass, but she is fast, and I can make any ball hittable. I slow the ball, setting it for Angie, and she jump hits it to their back row. Soon, we’re in an intense volley, and it’s what I live for. Angie and I are all over the court, setting and spiking the ball left and right. My team moves with us, picking up the slack, but when Coach jumps up, spiking the ball on our libero, she misses it.

  We all groan as Katie lets her head fall back. “Ugh. Sorry.”

  “Water break!” Coach exclaims, which really means, “Everyone else get water, and Katie, come here.” I pat her back, squeezing her shoulder. “You got this. It’s okay.”

  She doesn’t look convinced as she walks toward him, while the rest of the team heads to the bleachers where all our stuff is. I sit down beside Angie and reach for my phone as I guzzle my water.

  When I see a text from Asher, my face lights up.

  Asher: Landing in an hour ten. Don’t be late.

  Me: How are you texting me when you’re on a plane?

  Asher: I got the Wi-Fi to text you.

  Me: Aww, shucks. You paid $8.99 to text me?

  Asher: I’d pay more…to make sure I have a ride.

  Me: Ass.

  When he sends me a kissy face, I laugh just as Angie leans into me. “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

  I give her a blank look. “I don’t. It’s Asher.”

  “Oh, your hot-as-hell best friend?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know about hot-as-hell—”

  “How do you stay just friends with him? I’d bang him every chance I got.”

  “Angie!” I say, appalled. “You’re, like, ten.”

  She laughs, her green eyes full of playfulness. “Just because you’re old and crusty doesn’t mean the rest of us are babies. I’m eighteen and ready to mingle.”

  This is why Lucy wanted me to watch her. Horny little shit.

  “Jeez, send you off to college, and you’re ready for a good time.”

  Angie grins, looking just like her mama. “Whatever. You are just as busy as I am.”

  Shit, she’s not wrong. I flash her a suggestive grin as I lean back, pressing my water bottle to my forehead. It may be cold outside, but it’s hot as hell in this gym.

  “For real, for real. How?”

  “How what?” I ask, confused.

  “Do you stay just friends?”

  “Because we are.” I shrug. “We’ve been best friends since we were kids.”

  “That’s so weird. No hookups?”

  “No,” I say simply. “We’re just friends.”

  “Is he gay?”

  “What in the world!”

  “Seriously,” she says, laughing. “No red-blooded dude can resist you. You’re so damn hot, and he is too. Y’all should get together, have hot-ass sex, then have a hot-ass wedding, and then have hot-ass kids. It’s really a service to the world.”

  I just blink. It’s the only thing I’ll allow myself to do. I may love Angie, and she’s family, but I don’t confide in her. That’s reserved for Asher and my cousin slash best friend, Posey Adler. And I don’t even confide in Posey concerning Asher. It’s quite complicated. “I don’t know how to answer that.”

  “With the truth?”

  “The truth is, he’s my best friend. No feelings. Just friends.”

  She gawks at me, and then her lips curve. “Fine, can I get the hook-up?”

  I snort and ignore the anger bubbling inside me. He isn’t even here, and people are already thirsty for him. “I don’t hook people up with my best friend. You want him, you gotta go after him.”

  “Will do,” she says in her sassy way. When she gets up, I swallow hard and ignore my instinct to text Asher to tell him to be on the lookout for Angie. He just got out of a serious relationship. Yes, it’s been almost five months, but still. He really thought he’d marry his ex, but come to find out, she was gay. It was unfortunate, but I think we both knew. She hit on me a lot. With him around—and sometimes when he wasn’t. It was weird, but Asher always thought she was just playing around.

  Yeah, she wasn’t.

  I know it broke his heart when she told him her true sexual preference, but it’s better that it happened before they were married. I kind of hate her for holding on to him for as long as she did. Pretty sure she knew she was a lesbian, but she kept the relationship going. I think it might have been because she was embarrassed, but I don’t know why. Love who you want.

  Though I also think it was really because Asher is so damn good. He is just wonderful. So easy to talk to. Funny as hell. Loves his parents and his siblings. He makes everyone feel special, and he’s romantic. He’s everything I want, but for some reason, I keep hooking up with total assfucks. No one has ever measured up to Asher. He’s pure good, and because of that, I want to protect him. Not saying Angie would hurt him, and he could probably use a random hookup, but I don’t know… It doesn’t sit right with me. I don’t want him with anyone I know. It’s easier that way. I don’t know why it’s easier, but it is.

  The rest of practice goes by fast, and after showering, I head to the airport. I can’t wait to see him. It’s been almost nine months since I’ve seen his face, and it seems like years. After parking and finding my way to the spot where he’ll exit the terminal, I take my sign out of the bag and hold it up. He texted me that he was on his way, so I know he’s coming soon. I can’t wait for him to see my sign. I’m basically bouncing on my toes as I wait. Each person who comes out, I hold my breath, hoping it’s him. It seems like hours, but it’s only minutes, and then I see him.

  When he left for school three and a half years ago, he was skinny and dorky-looking. Gone is that boy; I’m pretty sure he ate him. Now, at almost six two, Asher is built like a hockey player instead of a scoreboard engineer. He’s the guy who can fix any jumbotron in any arena. I’m pretty sure the only reason he came back to Nashville was because he would have a job with the Assassins. I really didn’t think he would settle here; there are way more arenas in California, and he wouldn’t have to live with his sisters. Problem is, his ex wouldn’t move out of their apartment. She said they could be roommates.

  Asher would have rather taken a fist up the ass than do that.

  He has dusty-brown hair, lighter now from the California sun. His blazing gray eyes aren’t hiding behind his thick-rimmed black glasses. He has contacts now, and that pisses me off because I loved his glasses. His face is made up of hard features, his shoulders are h
uge as hell, and those lips…they’re thick and luscious. He squints at my sign, and I grin wider. My mom tried to talk me out of it, but I knew he would get a kick out of it.

  ASHER BROOKS, WELCOME HOME FROM SEX REHAB!

  As I knew would happen, a huge grin covers his face, and my heart stops. His laughter fills the airport as he comes toward me. I would go to him, but he’s still behind the security desk.

  “You’re such an ass.”

  I’m breathless. I feel like crying, I’ve missed him so much, but I’ve planned this welcome for so long. “I hid the pornos and cleared out all the sex toys. We’ll make it the full thirty days!” I joke, and he shakes his head. Finally, he’s within reach, and he drops his bags as I jump into his arms, hugging him tightly. I wrap my legs around his waist, and it’s almost unreal. He used to be smaller than me, and now he’s huge. He hugs me just as hard, and to bystanders, we probably look like long-distance lovers. I want to correct them, but what’s the point? They don’t matter. Only we matter.

  When he pulls back, his blazing gray gaze meets mine. “Really? Sex rehab?”

  I grin from ear to ear. “I had to get you back for the mental rehab sign when I came to see you.”

  He snorts. “Oh yeah, that was a good one.”

  “I thought so.”

  He beams. “I missed you, Ally T.”

  My heart soars. “I missed you, Ash B.”

  His laughter thrills me as he pulls me in close, and I hug his neck tightly. I nuzzle my face in his neck, getting overwhelmed by his cologne. Suddenly, I remember why it is so easy for me when he is gone.