Dump and Chase: Nashville Assassins: Next Generation Read online

  We went at it all night in the dark, and I regret that. I wish I had turned on the lights. I want to look at her, admire her. I was pretty far gone last night. With the NHL All-Star break, I’m able to let loose, have some fun. It’s the first time I regret not being sober when I had sex. I feel like I didn’t give her all that I could, but she seems pretty satisfied.

  Fuck, I know I am.

  I wonder if I can convince her not to leave. To stay for the day. I don’t have anything to do, and I wouldn’t mind rounds six and seven with her. Maybe make it to round ten. I owe Chris for this one. He never disappoints. He brings me some really great girls who keep quiet about our time together, but he went above and beyond with her. As much as I hate depending on someone else to get me a girl, I can’t trust myself to pick them. Seems every girl I find and fuck tries to screw me over. Wants me to fall in love, take my money, and make me theirs. When I refuse, they come up with some bullshit story and go to the media. I love to fuck, don’t get me wrong, but I always make sure to respect the girl. I don’t do anything they don’t want to do, yet I’ve been pegged as some kind of womanizer. Hence the reason I have to depend on a friend to bring me someone to fuck. I refuse to allow another woman to make more fucked-up allegations. I refuse to embarrass my mom and dad any more than I already have.

  I don’t know why I’m thinking of that when I have this spectacular beauty in my arms. I kiss the side of her boob and then her ribs. Just as I’m about to run my tongue across her ribs, I notice her ink. I pull my brows together when I realize it’s the Nashville Assassins logo. The Assassin with the skyline of Nashville on his shoulders. It’s the old-school logo, the one my dad wore for most of his career. I’m a bit taken aback by it. Usually, the girls I get hooked up with are Rangers fans or don’t know a stick from a puck, but she must be an Assassins fan. It’s actually kind of cool since Nashville is my hometown and I watched my dad play for them almost my whole life. His jersey hangs in the rafters of the Luther Arena. I have always dreamed of playing there professionally, but it hasn’t happened yet.

  One day.

  I kiss that spot on her body as the sun shines in on us. Just as I’m about to wake her to ask her about it, my phone starts to go off again.

  “Is that your phone?”

  I kiss the underside of her boob. “Yeah, ignore it.”

  “What time is it?” she asks, her voice raspy and sexy.

  “I don’t know. Don’t care. Please don’t move.”

  She ignores me, and when she reaches over me, I suck her nipple into my mouth. The breathy giggle that leaves her lips awakens my cock in seconds. “Shit, it’s nine. I’ve got to go. And it’s your agent.”

  She drops my phone on my chest as she untangles herself from me.

  “He can wait. Where are you going?”

  She moves quickly through the room, picking up her clothes. Her hair is still in her face, and I want to brush it aside so I can see her features. I go to get up, but she holds up her hand. “Don’t. If you get up and come anywhere near me, I won’t go. And I gotta go.”

  My mouth goes dry as I watch her dress quickly. Her body is a wonderland, and I am nowhere near done with her. As she pulls her hair up into a big messy bun, I say, “But I don’t want you to.”

  She shakes her head. “I have to.” When her eyes meet mine, I cock my head. She blows her hair out of her face and sends me a sweet grin. “I had fun.”

  I blink a few times because there is something familiar about her. “I did too. Please stay.”

  “I can’t,” she says, and she bites her lip. “Have a good life, Aiden.”

  And then she’s out the door.

  I hop out of bed and run to the door completely naked. She’s fast, and by the time I reach her, the elevator doors are closing. That sweet smile is still sitting on her lips, and fucking hell, she’s beautiful.

  “Bye.”

  What the hell just happened? Usually, I have to kick a girl out when we’re done, but she basically hightailed it out of here on her own. But that’s not the part that is bothering me the most. I think I know her. But from where? I can’t place her. Maybe she’s one of Chris’s actor friends. Maybe I’ve seen her onstage. Though, that doesn’t seem right. Weird.

  Either way, I want to see her again.

  I head back to my bedroom and reach for my phone in the sheets to see it’s ringing once more. Again with my agent. I ignore the call and notice that my mom and dad have called many times too. What the hell is going on? I should call them back. But I go to Chris’s text thread instead.

  Me: Dude, after making me wait a month, you hit the jackpot with her. Can you send me her info? I NEED to see her again.

  He doesn’t answer me back. Not even those three dots pop up, but then, it is early. When my phone starts ringing one more time, I hit answer, and the voice of my agent, Joey Brown, carries over the line.

  “What the fuck, Aiden? I’ve been calling you all morning!”

  I fall back in my bed, looking up at the ceiling as I cup my balls. “Sorry, man. Busy night and late morning.”

  “Whatever. Listen, she did it.”

  “Who?” I ask, bringing in my brows.

  “Elli Adler.”

  The name of the owner of the Assassins makes my heart stop. I have known Elli Adler for as long as I can remember. She has always been a pillar in my life. My family is close with hers, and I grew up babysitting her sons when I wasn’t watching my own siblings. She has wanted me on her team since I went into the NHL, and I want to be on her team, too. It’s my dad’s team, and I want to be just like him.

  “What about her?”

  “She offered the Rangers the Assassins’ next three draft picks and two prospects for you.” When he pauses, my heart stops. “The Rangers accepted. You’re an Assassin now.”

  My heart suddenly goes dead in my chest. Surely I’m still drunk. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously. She wants you in Nashville by tomorrow. Dude, you’ve wanted this. Sound excited!”

  I am, I really am, but holy shit, I never thought this would happen. I’ve wanted to play for the Assassins since I started playing. When I was younger and my dad would take me to the rink, I would imagine I was an Assassin in my way-too-big number twenty-two Brooks jersey. I would score the winning goal in game seven for the Stanley Cup. I’ve dreamed of this my whole life, yet my thoughts are consumed by the girl who just ran out on me.

  “Aiden! What the hell? I thought you wanted this?”

  I cover my face with my hand. “I do, man. I’m shocked.”

  “It’s a great thing. You’re going home.”

  Home. I’m going home. To play for my dream team.

  Don’t get me wrong. I’ve enjoyed New York. I’ve had the best time here and made some really great friends. Problem is, New York isn’t Tennessee. It’s insanely busy, things are always moving, and I feel like I never get a chance to breathe. When I go home for holidays or the summer, I feel complete. I feel calm. I’ve been homesick for a really long time. I miss my mom and dad, my brother and sisters. I wonder if they know I’m coming back.

  I’ve loved playing for the Rangers and, before them, the Islanders. They’re great teams, but they’re not the Assassins. I didn’t grow up pretending to be a Ranger. I was always an Assassin. When I would score in high school or even college, I wouldn’t hear the Rangers’ goal song; it was always the Assassins’. Everything has always been the Assassins for me. I was bummed when I didn’t get drafted by them, but my dad insisted I go where the money was. I was the rookie. Everyone wanted me, and when people are flashing boatloads of money at you, it’s real easy to put aside that childhood dream. Especially with my dad promising that one day I would play for the Assassins. That day is now.

  I’ve been itching for a new start after everything that’s happened, and this is it. This is my new start, and by the grace of God, it’s at home. Where my love of hockey began. After having the best sex of my life, I have to say, this morning is p
robably one of the best. Man, I wonder if I can see her again before I leave.

  Grace. I really want to see Grace again.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  SHELLI

  “GRACE. I told him my name was Grace.”

  I’m facedown in the pillow, feeling like the cheapest whore in Bedford Park.

  My cousin Amelia tsks at me on the other end of the line. “Wow. You are not living up to my mom’s name. She would be very disappointed.”

  I roll over, covering my face with my hands. My phone is now lying on my chest on speakerphone. “Please. Aunt Grace was no saint.”

  “True. But still, Shelli. What in the world?”

  “I don’t know,” I groan, running my hands over my nose and mouth. “I got swept up in the whole thing. He was looking at me—like, really looking at me—and I thought he knew who I was. I thought he fucking saw me.”

  “I told you to let go of that crush a long time ago.” I can hear the disdain in her voice. “He wasn’t interested in you, never has been. Like you’ve said many times, it’s as if he doesn’t even know you’re there. Why in the world would you think, after ten years of being ignored, he finally sees you and wants to bang?”

  I press my lips together. “Because I was looking mighty hot and my boobs were showing from under your ‘Trix aren’t just for kids’ shirt?”

  “I knew you stole my shirt!”

  I let out a long breath. Amelia is more my sister than my own sister. We’re very close, which is crazy since Amelia’s three years older than I am, and my sister, Posey, is only ten months younger. But Posey is just a different kind of girl. She’s brilliant and athletic. While I am somewhat athletic, I have more of a creative brain. She has to know all the facts and how to apply them. She makes thought-out decisions. I jumped into bed with a guy I’ve been infatuated with and who has ignored me for ten years because I thought he knew who I was. I didn’t even ask. Posey would have asked, made sure he was with the right person, and questioned his motives.

  We’re different. Obviously.

  But Amelia has always been my better half. We love the same things, we get excited about sparkly stuff, and we love being together. I’m pretty sure I annoy the shit out of Posey, and she sure as hell annoys me with her dry sense of humor. I love her, but she isn’t the person I tell everything to.

  “I just wanted him so bad.”

  “And now you’re just a little notch on his bedpost.”

  “Shit, I’m a huge notch. I made him squeal.”

  “Nice.” She sounds impressed, and my lips curve.

  “It was,” I agree, but then my grin falls. “I just thought it was happening. I thought he saw me in a different light. It was so perfect. He was more than I ever could have imagined. He felt so good, and I felt good. I don’t know. It sucks.”

  “Yeah, it does, because I’m telling you, your imaginary Aiden is nothing like real Aiden. He’s actually a real manwhore.”

  I shake my head. “He isn’t. He’s a twenty-seven-year-old dude in the NHL. They live for the speed on the ice and the fastness of the girls. He got a bad rap with everything that happened, but I’m telling you, he isn’t that guy. He’s a good guy.”

  “Always making excuses for him.”

  “I’m not. Normal single men in their twenties want sex and only sex. Not everyone is like Prince Chandler.”

  Amelia laughs, and it fills me with such joy even with how low I feel about myself right now. Her laugh is so happy and carefree. It’s refreshing to hear her like this. After a nasty and disastrous first marriage, she found Chandler Moon. Her Prince Charming. Her forever. I can’t help but be jealous of how great he is to her and how much they love each other. He wanted her from the moment he met her. He was ready to lay down his life for her and make her his. As much as I hate admitting it since it sounds so childish, I want that. I want that epic love story. The one with the dramatic declaration of love that is the beginning of my forever. Every time my mom and dad get a little drunk on their end-of-the-week wine, their story almost always comes up.

  First and foremost, my aunt Victoria is an asshole. She’s a money-hungry whorebag who kissed my dad to make my mom break up with him. She did it for my grandma, who didn’t want my mom to be with my dad. Don’t know why—my dad is basically the best person to ever walk this earth, but my grandma didn’t like him, which is probably the reason I’ve never met any of those people. I have my dad’s family, and that’s it. My mom always says, “Blood doesn’t matter if they hurt you.” In her case, it’s true. She has more friends she would give her left tit for than anyone in her own family. Can’t blame her, given how everything went down.

  After my aunt kissed my dad, Mom broke up with him because she thought my dad wanted her sister. Mom had some insecurities going on then, but she’s way better about it now. Probably because my dad tells her daily that she is gorgeous.

  Swoon. I want that.

  Not the point, but after my aunt kissed my dad, my parents broke up for a couple months, and when my dad saw my mom with another guy at his hockey game, he lost his shit. He busted the glass of her box by shooting a puck straight at them. He had the hardest shot in the league for seven years. He’s so badass. But he was letting her know he wasn’t over her, nor did he want to let her go. She ignored it because she was upset, but when she found out what my aunt did, she went on the ice and sang to my dad after not singing for years. When I get really sad, I find the video on YouTube and cry. Because they’re now living happily ever after.

  I want that.

  Or even a guy who looks at me the way Chandler looks at Amelia. Like she holds the world in the palms of her hands. Instead, I have sex with a guy who doesn’t even know who I am—when I’ve been totally infatuated with him my whole life.

  Wow. I’m a winner.

  “Speaking of Chandler,” Amelia says, pulling my attention away from my thoughts. “Can you swing through here on the way home?”

  “I don’t know. Dad is coming to help me take everything to be shipped, and then we’re supposed to fly home, I don’t think Carolina is on the way.”

  “Can you take a detour?”

  “Why?” I ask, sitting up and checking the time. My dad should be here any minute. “I was going to come next month.”

  “I know, but I need to talk to you.”

  “Um, Am, we’re on the phone, and guess what, our mouths are moving—”

  “Oh my God, shut up. I mean in person.”

  I shake my head. “Again, guess what.” I hold up my phone and hit the FaceTime button. When her face appears, a look of pure annoyance on her features, I can’t help but smile. I’ve always thought my cousin was stunning enough to be a model. But instead, she uses that lean, toned body of hers to flip over stuff. She’s been a gymnast since she could walk, but now she’s a coach, and I can see all over her face how happy that makes her. “Holy crap. We live in a world where we can be face-to-face!”

  “I hate you.”

  “I know,” I say with a grin. “What’s up?”

  She’s moving through the house and ends up in the bathroom. How I know is because I just helped her paint that bathroom when she moved in with her boo thang. A little grin sits on her lips as she holds up a stick. I squint at the phone as I try to figure out what she has.

  “What the hell is that?”

  “A pregnancy test.”

  My heart stops. “No way.”

  “Yeah,” she says slowly, and unchecked excitement shows on her face. “I know it’s crazy and superfast, but we’re really thrilled.”

  “A baby? You’re having a baby?”

  “I am,” she says, and soon tears are running down her face. “A little Amelia or Chandler.”

  Emotion clogs my throat. “Am, that’s absolutely amazing.”

  “Right? I can’t believe it.”

  “I can’t either. I’m so happy for you,” I gush. And I am happy, but crap, she’s young. They’ve only been together like six months. But then,
who am I to judge? When you know, you know, and Chandler is the one for her. “Was it planned?”

  She scoffs but with a dreamy look on her sweet face. “Not at all, and I was scared Chandler would be upset, but he wasn’t.”

  “Because he’s perfect.”

  She gives me a wide grin. “He is.” But then her grin falls. “Even though he somehow set the kitchen on fire.”

  I snort. “No.”

  “Yes, he was cooking me some eggs, and I don’t know how, but the cabinets are all burned.”

  Most people would be annoyed, but Amelia just looks blissful. Like she thinks it’s adorable that her dude just burned up their cabinets. “He’s insane. Keep him out of the kitchen. He can’t be burning down the house with my—” I pause. “Wait, what is the baby to me? My second cousin? I hate that.”

  She mirrors my disgusted look. “Me too! No, you’re its aunt.”

  “Yes, aunt,” I agree with a grin. “Have you told your mom?”

  She shakes her head. “Not yet. We’re gonna wait to tell everyone. You’re the second to know, after Chandler.”

  I grin. “I’m special.”

  “You are,” she agrees, and then she sets me with a look. “Which is how you should be treated. Don’t be slumming it with assholes who thought you were brought there to be a booty call.”

  I let my shoulders fall. “I don’t make the best decisions.”

  She grins. “You don’t. Has Nico been calling?”

  Nico Merryweather, the goalie for the IceCats and one hell of a gorgeous man. We had a little thing going. It was mainly sex, and we had fun. With me living in New York and him in Carolina, I knew it wouldn’t work. I didn’t want it to work because he wasn’t Aiden. I’ve kept all guys at arm’s length because I wanted Aiden. Now that I’ve had him and know that he has never and will never notice me, I should probably move on. Even so, Nico isn’t for me. He’s too obsessed with himself to care about anyone else. He just likes having sex with me. He should. I’m good at it.