Page 1 of Blindside Love

Chapter 1

Trevor

“How in the actual fuck am I even awake right now,” I yell to no one as I slam my Jeep into park, my music continuing to blare through my headphones as I lean my head back on the seat. I’d give just about anything right now to be able to teleport to my bed. I feel like I’m about two seconds away from dropping into the fetal position and begging for my mommy. But, unfortunately, I’m a thirty-four-year-old grown-ass adult who’s supposed to be able to handle life on his own.

I’m not sure when playing hockey started to be this tiring, but this is the tiredness you feel deep in your bones, the type that even a few good nights of sleep wouldn’t touch. I definitely don’t bounce back from these long road trips like I used to and I’m starting to really feel it. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned I thrive on routine, which includes being in my own house and my own bed, at a reasonable time to get a good night of sleep. It doesn’t help that these hotels we stay in for away games have paper-thin walls, so I’m usually up late having to hear the music my teammates play in their rooms as they hook up with puck bunnies until the early hours of the morning.

Wow, I sound like the grumpy old dude who’s become allergic to fun. I was supposed to be out on a date tonight, which I’m sure I would’ve been an absolute joy, but I canceled at the last minute because I can barely keep my eyes open, let alone carry on a meaningless conversation.

But in my defense, I’m not even sure tonight could be classified as a date—more like an attempt at figuring out a dating app. When everything went to shit with Claire, I caved and finally downloaded one of the apps Sawyer is constantly bugging me to get. I guess I figured that if the old-fashioned way of meeting women wasn’t working, I might as well try this method, even if most of the people on this app just want a quick fuck, and tonight’s girl was no different.

It didn’t help that last night with the guys was depressing. Even thinking that makes me feel like I’m a complete asshole, but it was just hard for me to hear about everyone’s happiness. Well, mainly Rex and Max’s. Hearing both of them dote on about their women was adorable but made me more fucking jealous than I realized I was capable of.

Those two have everything I’ve ever dreamed of, and I’m so happy they found their match. But I get so frustrated and tired of waiting that it’s so goddamn fucking hard seeing everyone so happy. I can’t even remember the last time I was naked with a woman, let alone actually liked someone.

It’s like the older I get, the pickier I am about who I spend my time with, and unfortunately for me, most of the women that I’m around are puck bunnies who are either chasing clout or my money, and that’s an immediate turn-off for me. I want to meet someone who doesn’t know anything about hockey and isn’t attracted to my last name or my career, which is hard to find when we play eight months out of the year; it kind of cuts down on my dating pool.

So now, I’m trying this dating app nonsense, even though I hate it.

Don’t get me wrong, the swiping is interesting, although a little unnerving at times. It’s hard to believe some people are so comfortable with what they are willing to share with the world.

Interested in being filled… completely?

Supernatural interests? Yes, please. Monster dildo? Unicorn horn? Double yes.

I get being comfortable with yourself and your sexuality, but come on now, save something for the first date. It feels like a compilation of sex ads, which I guess it is.

Fuck me, I’m way too old for this shit.

And this is why I bailed on my date tonight. She wasn’t upset in the slightest, so I’d be surprised if I was her only option for tonight.

I ended up staying a little later at dinner with my parents tonight anyway. My mom hooked me up with meals for the week like she always does. She tries to play it off like she just made too much food, but the woman has done it for years and she always makes my favorite. She knows I can’t cook for shit, so she probably just wants to make sure I survive.

Our dinners are easily my favorite part of the week, but today, I was exhausted and couldn’t shake it. I’ve been off lately; I can own it. I mean, hell, everyone around me has noticed, even Cade called me out for it during practice last week when I couldn’t get the puck in the net to save my life. Then tonight, my parents both said I was oddly quiet. I could see it in their eyes that they were worried about me, but they couldn’t figure out how to help.

I don’t feel like anyone can right now because, hell, I don’t even know how to help myself.

I’ve lost my spark, my drive. The excitement I used to feel every day is gone. Dare I say it, my “zest for life” is almost non-existent. I feel like I’ve been going through the motions and not doing anything that excites me anymore, and I hate it.

Every week is the same. I see my friends and family once a week, and I play hockey, and honestly… I’m bored. I know I need to make a change, do something different, something exciting. And I’ve been wondering if this might be my last year in the NHL. I’m thirty-four years old and I still lead the league in goals, so I’m sure I could easily get one more good contract out of ‘em, but I’m tired.

The only thing holding me back from making the call to retire after this season is my father. I spent tonight listening to him go on about how excited he is for the next season and how he can’t wait to see what they offer me for a contract extension. I felt like I would break his heart if I told him I’d been considering retirement.

He’s coached me a couple of times throughout the years, including in college when he got to coach both Rex and I at Brooklyn University. It was fucking exciting—Rex as left winger, me as right, and my dad as the coach. It was always an absolute blast and something we could bond over. But at thirty-four, I feel like it’s time to face the facts. My time on the ice is starting to come to an end, at least professionally.

The worst part about all of this is that without hockey, I have no idea who I am anymore. Which terrifies me more than anything. I’m always the happy one, the positive one, but right now, I’m the lost one.

Fuck me.

Grabbing my stuff, I head toward the parking garage elevator, and press the call button with more force than I intended. As it opens, I step in, hit the number fourteen before leaning back to rest my head against the wall. Just as I go to close my eyes, trying to steal just a tiny moment of peace, all hell breaks loose in front of me. At the center of the mess is the hottest little thing I’ve ever seen, rocking pink hair.

It feels like everything happens in slow motion, yet it’s somehow fast at the same time. I can’t think, can’t react; it’s like all I can do is stand frozen in place as I watch everything unfold.

One moment, I see this absolute stunner of a girl, wearing these cute little jean overalls with pink hair at her shoulders. The next, I see her mouth open in a scream as she trips and drops the box she’s carrying, the contents flying everywhere.

I look down at her for what feels like minutes but is probably only seconds, as neither of us has moved or even taken a breath. Before I can say anything, something in the elevator catches my eye.

It’s a dildo.

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