Page 26 of These Wicked Hearts

“You’re coming with me.” He reaches into his locker and waves two tickets in front of my face. “You’re coming with me to the Riot Heart concert tonight at Melborne Park. Front row. VIP backstage access and meeting with the band.”

My brow quirks. “What’s Riot Heart?”

“Oh, fuck, here we go,” Layton murmurs next to us.

“You’re right, here we go!” Knox thunders. “Riot Heart is only the greatest band known to man.” I look at Layton who rolls his eyes. “They’re super fucking cool, anonymous, and have voices like fucking deities, man. We’re going. You and me.”

“What did I do to deserve this?”

“Tanner got sick. These are his tickets. Ha, loser. You going to let the sniffles stop you from experiencing this?” He shakes his head.

“So, I’m your second choice?”

“No.” Knox drops down onto my bench and throws his arm around me. “Fourth, but that’s just because I didn’t know if this was your vibe.” I shrug his arm off me. “You like Abba and shit.”

I tug on my shirt. “I don’t just like Abba.” I just listen to them before practice and games. It reminds me of my mother’s good days. We’d dance in the living room while we cleaned the trailer. Just me, her, and Penn. Dancing in her living room to “Dancing Queen.”

I blink fast, trying to wheel my brain back to the present. “I’m beat, man.”

“No, see, you don’t get what an opportunity this is. Front row. All access backstage. This is huge.”

I turn to him on the bench. “You don’t find it weird how giddy you’re getting right now? You’d think some of the glitz and magic would be tarnished with your own celebrity status.”

“We’re hockey players. Most of the time we go unnoticed! It’s different. You don’t get it. Their music is haunting and fucking beautiful. You’re going. That’s final.”

I look at Knox and shake my head. I don’t want to, but maybe this will keep my mind busy. I haven’t had a drink in months, and I feel both the worst and best I’ve ever been.

It’s taken everything not to knock on every door to find him. Which is super fucking weird. Still, my brain is hung up on it. I’ve never had that much fun before.

And the sex. He opened up something inside me. A whole new world, and I want to keep exploring.

See, no, this is good. I’m already spiraling. My brain gets stuck on things, and I have a hard time letting go. This will keep my mind busy. “Why the fuck not.”

“Yes!” Knox shoots up from the bench, fist pumping the air. “You and me, man. Bro night.”

A quiet hush descends over the locker room, and I look up and see why as Rome walks by us. My jaw ticks. A gentle hand lands on my shoulder, and I’m surprised when I see it’s Layton and not Knox.

“Don’t worry, man. No one likes him.”

I watch him walk back to the showers. Dark eyes. Shaved head. Brown or dark blond, I’m not sure. What I am sure is that Rome Acciari is even larger up close.

Which makes the hit Grey took even more devastating to picture.

“When do we leave?” I ask softly.

“Show’s at seven. We already have front row seats. They’re going by numbers and we are in the front, baby! Going to be amazing. I’m going to go home and change. Want a ride? I’ll be over at six to pick you up.”

“Sure.”

Knox grips my shoulders, shaking me. “Get ready for the night of your life.”

SIX

Atlas

I grew up in New Jersey with humid as fuck summers. The kind of heat you can feel radiating off sidewalks. I should be used to it, but this heat is killing me. It’s only October and I’m dying for the humidity to fuck off. Maybe it’s the crowd pressing in around us.

I love hockey. I love my fans. I do not like getting mobbed. It rarely happens, but it makes me nervous when groups of people recognize me on the street. As far as pro athletes go, a hockey life is quiet outside of hockey circles.