Page 1 of The Perfect Snipe

Chapter 1

Leo

The familiar burn in my thighs intensifies as I chase Wyatt down, back-checking to prevent him from scoring on us. Sweat trickles down my back, the ice beneath my skates no longer pristine. Swear being off the ice for one week makes coming back feel like I’ve never skated in my life. Like my muscles forgot what the fuck to do.

With a growl, I push off the inside edge, extending my arm and stick, hoping to gain just enough reach to knock the puck off his blade. While this may be a scrimmage, my best friend and I play like it’s an actual game, both of us competitive as fuck. But being six years younger than me, he’s a bit faster and pulls some fancy stick handling, shooting the puck from between his legs.

He turns and takes a bow, gliding to the other side of the net. Then he stands to his full height, tapping his chin and looking up at the rafters. “What was it you said to me? Oh, yeah. ‘Don’t get to choose your nickname’. Sucks for youSparkles.”

Mother. Fucking. Clanton.

My jaw clenches, a muscle twitching in my cheek. Not a day goes by where I don’t regret becoming friends with Wyatt at least once. Sometimes it’s on the ice. Other times it’s when he decides—a bad decision I might add—to make me the target of his jokes.

He’s like an annoying little brother, like one who enjoys hiding Legos on the floor, waiting for me to step on them.

Except this time, he’s not completely at fault. “Thought you agreed to drop it, Virgin. But I’ll gladly shut that mouth of yours if I need to.”

Because life hasn’t handed me enough lemons, I have to get stuck with Sparkles as my nickname. And all because of that hell demon I live with.

Stella.

My daughter.

All spice and nothing nice.

Wyatt snorts. “Ooo, look I’m shaking.”

His laughter rings in my ears fueling my irritation, and now I’m determined to prove a point. A point I don't think is going anywhere since he has his hands up, curling them my way, daring me to hit him.

I take a slapshot at him instead, but the asshole dodges, then winks. “Gotta be quicker than that,Sparkles.”

The bastard.

“Cap, you’re blinding me with all that light reflecting you’re doin’.” Smitty mocks needing to shade his eyes with his goalie glove. “No wonder we’re losing.”

Coach blows the whistle, his arms crossed as he levels us with a glare. Swear his nose even flares. “How ’bout you morons get your head into practice. That’ll be fan-fucking-tastic for a change.”

Great.

Now I’m in trouble. That never happens.

“Come on, Coach. You love us.” Of course my best friend isn’t fazed. Nope, the fucker bats his eyes at our coach, as if he forgot the deep shit he was in just a few months ago.

Our season hasn’t been going that well. Most of us are still getting used to playing with one another. As a new expansion team, we aren’t a solid group that has built chemistry yet.

And it’s not just our skills. There’s still trust issues to overcome. None of us have really opened up to the team yet.

Like Wyatt.

I’m still pissed he kept the fact his future stepson had been kidnapped from me. I thought we were friends. Thought he could trust me with something like that. After his public fight earlier in the season, I’d taken him under my wing and brought him around my own children.

But no.

That fucker kept such an important life event to himself. He only told Ian Hudson, his other best friend. It made me look like an ass in the process when I told him to try to keep his head in the game. The embarrassment of the moment still stings.

I grind my molars and exhale harshly through my nose as the tension builds in my shoulders. The familiar fear of abandonment creeps in, reminding me why I've kept everyone at arm's length for so long. It's easier not to get close, not to trust. That way, when people inevitably leave—whether by choice or fate—it won't hurt as much.

My best friend’s decision not to confide in me about the situation hit harder than I’d like to admit—a stark reminder of how quickly people can shut you out, even when you think you’ve formed a bond. Same way my old teammates didn’t seem to care I’d been traded to the Minotaurs. Even after years of playing together.

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