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Prologue
Tom
Two Years Ago
I shouldn’t have gone out with my teammates last night. I shouldn’t have gotten drunk or hooked up with that fanboy in the bathroom of the bar. I was good at making a lot of mistakes when it involved my life, but that wasn’t the worst one. The headache behind my eyes that made my vision blur hadn’t faded, no matter how much Advil I had taken. And now I was standing in the crease, trying to stop the puck as some asshole from the opposing team came tearing down the ice.
I expected the shove from Martin Hollins, the alternate captain of the Minnesota Bears, the hatred in his dark gaze as he stared up at me and bared his teeth. Martin made it known exactly how he felt about me and the other queers in the league whenever he had the chance. Everyone knew what a homophobic dick he was.
“Fag,” Martin hissed from between clenched teeth.
I squared my shoulders and narrowed my eyes. “Not too original, are you, Hollins?”
I tried to let the word bounce off my skin, but no matter how hard I tried, it still bothered me. No matter how open about sexuality I was or the fake smile I put on my face, there would always be another Martin waiting to try to hurt me. Bully me. Take me down.
“Just like you and all the boys you fuck, huh, Olson?” Martin seethed, then skated away.
I shook my head to clear my thoughts of hate. I was a professional. Nothing that asshole said or did to me would change who I was. A son, a brother, and a damn good—
Suddenly, I was slammed back against the goal post as Martin rammed into me at top speed. I was so lost in trying not to think about him, I hadn’t seen him coming. The angry shouts of my teammates filled my ears as I shoved Martin away.
“You’re just a little sissy boy, aren’t you? All that cock sucking has you distracted from the game, from what you’re paid too much money to do. If you had been paying attention, you never would have ended up on your back. But then again, you probably like it like this,” he growled into my ear as he threw his gloves to the ice.
I ripped off my mask, not caring how much trouble it would get me into.
“I’ll show you sissy boy, you little prick.” I managed to get one punch in before he knocked me to the ground, his heavy body splayed over mine. “Oh, you like it rough?” I grinned as he hit me, the taste of copper filling my mouth.
“Get off him!” Aleks Petrov, one of my defensemen, shouted. “You are insane, Hollins. Absolutely crazy.”
Martin tried to shrug Aleks away, but my teammate was a big man, and he lifted him off me. Martin stared at me with hatred on his face, scowling and struggling against the hands that held him back. Maybe it was an accident or possibly he did it on purpose, but just as I started to get up, Martin’s left leg kicked out, and he hit me square in the face.
I think I might have screamed as my hands flew up to cover my face. The pain was unbearable as it scorched through my head. I felt sick to my stomach as the crowd roared around us, my teammates coming to my rescue to try to calm me down. What if I’d lost an eye? What if I could never play hockey again? This was the only thing I had ever wanted. Were my parents watching? What would my mother think? She had to be horrified right now.
“Blake,” I heard myself whisper as pain worse than my hangover ricocheted through my body. I hadn’t said my ex-boyfriend and best friend’s name out loud in years. “I need Blake.” I grabbed Aleks’s jersey as the pain worsened.
He nodded. “Of course, man, yeah. We’ll get him for you.”
He had no idea who Blake was. I kept that part of me hidden away for nights I couldn’t sleep. Aleks was a good friend, and I knew he would help me.
I must have passed out because when I opened my eye—the other wouldn’t open—I was in an egg-white hospital room with the beeping of the heart rate monitor in my ear. Tears blurred my visions as I raised my hand to my face, terrified of what I would feel, what I might find, or what I wouldn’t. Life as I had known it had changed.
“Don’t touch that.” I glanced to my left to find my brother, Jackson. He looked exhausted, eyes red and dark circles etched into his skin. He shifted his massive body to lean forward. “They did surgery on you the moment you arrived.”
My chin trembled as I stared at him, taking in the ashen look of grief, the pained expression he wore and the tightness of his mouth. “How bad is it?”
“I tried to get ahold of Blake.”
“How bad is it, Jax? Don’t fuck around with me.”
Jackson took a deep breath. “They saved your eye. Said you should be able to keep your vision.” He tried to smile but failed miserably. “There’s going to be a scar.”
“Jesus fucking Christ.” I had to fight the urge not to hit something. Myself being the first, followed by Martin Hollins.
Jackson reached for my hand. “You’re alive, Tommy. That’s the most important thing.”
“Don’t call me that.” I yanked out of his grasp. “Where are Mom and Dad?”
Jackson stood up and moved to the window. “They’re at the hotel, sleeping. It’s been a hectic couple of days—“
