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CHAPTER ONE
SAM
MARCH
FRESHMAN YEAR OF COLLEGE
Sometimes, I wonder when the tide first started to change for me. I lived a charmed life up until college. Anything that I really wanted—hockey, that starting position on a new team, the unattainable girl—was always mine for the taking with little to no effort. If I really desired something, I usually managed to get it, and that’s not my ego talking. It’s the simple truth.
I’m the only son of Jack and Alma Anderson, a middle-class family in the Midwest, and I had a stable upbringing. My mom and dad are still married and eat dinner together every night. Dad makes a decent living as an electrician, and my mom is an elementary school teacher. Life was predictable and boring at times, but in a reliable, comforting way. Everything came easily for me, and I was always the golden child. We never had a lot of money, but what we did have was funneled into hockey. I guess over time, I took it all for granted, but only because I never knew any different. I thought things were supposed to work out the way I wanted them to because they always had in the past.
I’m not sure if there was an exact moment when things suddenly shifted, like a riptide pulling me beneath the wave instantaneously. Or if it happened gradually, like I was slowly sinking beneath the surface until the water stole all my oxygen. Either way, I didn’t realize it was happening until I was too far gone to stop it. But I do know one thing for sure … the beginning revolved around Oakley Burnham.
Oakley was my first and only real girlfriend, though not many people believe that because I’ve dated lots of women and hooked up with even more over the years. But I’d never had a serious, long-term commitment until Oak. I never even considered one before her. And I haven’t had one since.
I still remember the first time I kissed her on the back porch of my teammate Mike’s house in the fall semester of our senior year. She was beautiful with her dark hair cascading down her shoulders and those innocent blue-green eyes. She looked at me like I’d not only hung the moon, but I’d created it as well. Her expression shared secrets with me. It whispered that she loved me long before I even noticed her. I grew addicted to that look. And after that night … I couldn’t let her go. She wasn’t the kind of girl that you had one encounter with and left. Oakley was the type of woman who lingered long after she was gone. So, I locked her down and made her mine. We spent nearly a year together before I began to doubt what we had.
Then, I decided on a whim to demolish everything we’d built together. During our first semester of college, I convinced myself that Oakley was weighing me down. That the regular sex was becoming monotonous, and the nights out together were a tightening noose around my neck rather than something to treasure. My eye started to wonder, looking at all the options I had, all the other women, rather than recognizing what was right in front of my face. I mean, why would I tie myself down to one girl when there were so many other coeds out there literally clamoring for a night with me? No expectations, no restrictions. Variety. And I was just young and dumb and arrogant enough to want it. I still am.
So, I smashed us into pieces in an alleyway outside of a bar without looking back. And I left her alone to pick up the shards. I’d forgotten how special she was and how she made me feel valued every time she glanced in my direction. I wiped my memory of the way she’d loved and how she’d left me feeling like a better man every time she walked toward me. And I started to willingly drown in booze and other girls.
Until one day, not too long ago, I was walking across campus, and I saw Oakley.
In one glance, it all came rushing back. I suddenly remembered how good she’d felt in my arms. The way my chest would warm when she gazed up at me with love in her eyes. Feeling wanted every time she spoke my name. I missed her. I missed us. And I wanted everything I had destroyed back.
“You planning on sharing that?” Ben asks when I walk into the kitchen with a case of beer in my hands.
Ben Sims, Charlie McMann, and Will Richter live at this house, all teammates of mine on Sinclair University’s hockey team. We’re getting together tonight to watch a professional hockey game. A few of the other guys and several girls are already gathered in the living room.
“You planning on putting out for it?” I joke.
I rest the Amstel Light on the counter and swing open the refrigerator, unloading the bottles onto the shelf to chill.
Ben brings a hand up to his chin, pretending to ponder my offer. “That’s bottled imported beer … I’ve done worse for keg beer.”
“Sims, what is wrong with you?” I quip while Charlie laughs at him from across the room.
He’s removing a sub and some chips from a bag with the logo of a local sandwich shop on the outside.
Ben shrugs unapologetically. “What can I say, man? I have no shame.”
“That’s the rumor,” I readily agree.
Ben walks over to Charlie to snag his food before the giant goalie claims it all.
I crack open a beer and take a swig. My heart skips a beat when I see Oakley walk into the room, her long hair swaying down her back in waves. I texted her earlier tonight to see if she was coming, but she never answered. I’ve messaged her a few times in the past week, but each time, all I get are short responses, if she bothers to answer at all. I get it. I became the enemy when I broke her heart in that dark alleyway a few months ago. But I’m ready to make it up to her, to make her see what I’ve realized recently. That we belong together. And I never back down from a challenge.
She glances at her phone, and I frown, wondering if she’s talking to another guy. And if that guy is Chase.
I know he’s making his move. I saw it at the club the night we all went to celebrate her birthday. Roommate or not, Chase declared war when he pulled my girl down on his lap to blow out her birthday candles. That pissed me off. The image of them together is still seared on my brain. It’s the first time I saw the true intent of my so-called friend and teammate. Now, we can add rival to that list of descriptors.
Because Oakley is my girl. She was mine first even though we’ve been broken up for a while now. Just because we hit a bump in the road doesn’t mean that we’re completely done. And it definitely doesn’t mean that Chase has a shot with her. I’m prepared to make her see what I realized that day on campus. To make her remember what we were and the potential of what we could be again.
“There she is!” I say, aiming my signature smirk at Oakley as she walks farther into the kitchen. The one that has panties dropping at every party.
Oakley shoves her phone into her back pocket and glances up. Electricity buzzes in the air when our gazes connect. Those vibrant eyes dim a bit right before she looks away.
I deserve that.
