Page 59 of Well Played

My stomach growled, reminding me we hadn’t eaten lunch before this all went down.

“How are you hungry right now?” Cian asked, the pitch of his voice edging upward. I shrugged.

“It’s not my fault I’m bigger than you. I need more to keep me going.”

“You’re a giant. I don’t think anyone’s as big as you, but if you go crazy on the food, you’ll be too heavy to skate when we get the call-up.”

The funny thing was, there was someone bigger than me. And he was about to be my brother-in-law, if we ever got to make our phone call.

But he might have had a point about how much I’d been eating. I made a mental note to get back in the gym after the honeymoon.

Cian had been convinced we’d be recruited to the same team since we played our last game for Fox U, so he’d continued to train harder than ever in the gym and dragged my slack ass along for the ride when I wasn’t wrapped up in homemaking with the love of my life.

“O’Leary. Time to make your call.” An officer opened the door with one hand on his weapon as though he thought we were poised to lunge at him.

“Do we all get a call?” I asked.

“No.”

Ugh. Jail sucked.

“Were you thinking of calling Mia? She might be worried,” Cam asked as Cian walked ahead of Officer Scaredy Cat toward the far end of the room.

“Hell no. Hopefully she’ll be in the middle of some pampering thing with Violet and by the time she’s ready to walk down the aisle we’ll have fixed all this and she never has to know. Perfect. Wedding.”

I knew damn well I was in denial. For one, we still hadn’t fixed the venue issue. Given the current state of our freedoms, it wouldn’t be the best idea to return to the beach ceremony idea.

A short time later, Cian came back flashing us a promising thumbs up, and then we went back to waiting.

“I swear, the first thing we’re doing when Fraser gets us out of here is swinging by a Wendy’s,” I groaned as my stomach let out another complaint.

The ventilation in the holding cell sucked and my t-shirt stuck to my shoulders. If we didn’t get out soon, I’d not only be getting married in jeans and a t-shirt, I’d stink of sweat and be in a hangry rage too. What a magical way to start a marriage.

“You’d better be fucking joking about the Wendy’s, boy. You two are the best bet of the lot for a draft pick this year. Can’t have you going up to the big league and embarrassing us, now can we?”

Like a foul mouthed angel descending from heaven in a too-tight Franklin U polo and cargo pants, Coach Markson strode through the room and waited by the door for someone to let us out.

“Hurry it up, Rudy. You weren’t the best equipment manager, but you used to know your way around a set of fucking keys.”

The officer dipped his head, muttering a softyes, Coachas he opened our way out.

“I called Fraser,” Cian said, his brows pinched in confusion as we made our way through the station.

“Yeah, and I called Coach. Who else has the experience with bailing out idiot players?” Our old D-man wandered in, smirking at our miserable states.

“I resemble that remark.” Cian sniffed.

“Get your shit together. We’ve got a wedding to get to,” Coach barked. Police officers rushed to organize paperwork and retrieve our personal belongings under the eye of a man who had probably taught a lot of them in their own college years if their blind obedience was anything to go by.

Within minutes we found ourselves processed — let off with a warning and a promise it wouldn’t appear on our record — and out on the front stairs of the station.

As we headed for Coach’s car, I stalled out.

“We still don’t have a venue. The yacht club double booked and scoping a beach out is what landed us in jail in the first place.”

Fraser stared hard at the ground while Cian and Cam exchanged defeated looks.

“I hate to say it, but I think we need to call Mia.” I ignored Cam’s well-meaning, but stupid advice. We couldn’t ruin this day for her. It had to be perfect. Like her. She deserved the world and if I couldn’t get our wedding right, what hope did I have for our marriage?

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