Page 1 of Fall Wherever They May

PROLOGUE

You could call me philosophical. I’ve always thought of life as a road with a million different turns along the way. Every single decision made is a turn in the road, which is met with obstacles and more decisions that lead to your destiny. You could also call me a dreamer, because a part of me wants to believe in events so random and so incredibly coincidental it couldn’t possibly be anything other than fate.

You don’t have to believe in fate; you can control your own destiny. But what if fate is real? What if fate and destiny collide? What if the stars align just right and the universe delivers exactly what you need at the precise moment you need it, and what if that alignment led to your destiny? Do you seize it with both hands, or do you disregard it because it’s certainly “too good to be true”? You only live one life; you can choose to live it in joy or live it in misery.

One life to make the absolute most of. I knew the moment I got the phone call, I would be moving to New York. It didn’t matter what took me there, fate or circumstances. The only thing that mattered to me was that the life I was living wasn’t the life that I wanted. My past was continuing to dictate my future. My choice was simple.

CHAPTER ONE

Cal

“All I’m saying is you need to stop sitting here in your godforsaken house, dwelling on your miserable past, and playing with your lonely ass dick! Get out and start living life!” Carter scolds, opening the grill and checking the meat. “Do you need some assistance? I’m sure I have someone in my contacts I can call for you.”

As the smoke billows, I inhale, relishing in the smell of the savory meat cooking on the grill. I tip my beer back; the cold, crisp liquid glides down my throat. Staying silent, I avert my eyes. Avoidance is something I’ve mastered over the years, especially when it’s concerning something I don’t want to talk about. It’s a character flaw, but I couldn’t care less. I don’t have the mental capacity nor the patience to deal with this shit right now, and I don’t know if I ever will.

Carter is one of the right-wingers on my team, our enforcer. He’s also my best friend. Of all my teammates, he’s the outspoken one. The man with the pep talks. The guy who has his life together. He meets every challenge head-on and confronts his obstacles, taking them to the next level, even off the ice. Iknow he means well, but he doesn’t understand, because he’s never been in my shoes. God, I wouldn’t wish that on anybody.

“What?” He cuts into my thoughts, “You’re just going to stand there and look at me but not say anything? Avoid the topic?” He points the spatula, dripping grease onto my patio. His eyes squint as he scrutinizes me. “If evasion were a career, you would make more money than you do in hockey.” The antagonizing asshole presses as he flips the burgers. Okay . . . so . . . he’s about to be my ex-best friend.

“I don’t need anyone to . . .” I pause, chewing on my words, searching for the best way to articulate what’s on my mind. “. . . assist with my dick. And I’ll have you know Iamliving life right now. The team is coming over, and we’re going to have a nice little barbecue. What more do you want from me? I’m doing my best here.” Exhaling slowly, I crane my neck to glance at the side of the house, wishing for one of the other guys to appear and save me from this asshole.

Mediocrity is my best right now, even if that’s all I’ve been doing for the past four years, but I don’t need to give him that validation.

He releases a drawn-out sigh and sets the spatula down, then picks up the tongs. With the precision of a chef, he turns over the chicken and ribs, making sure the grill marks are perfect. “Are you? I’ll haveyouknow that fulfilling an obligation is not living. This little barbecue is a team-building event; it’s your job. Yes, the team is important, and so are our teammates, but there’s more to life than hockey.”

Maybe for him there is, but he’s already won two Stanley Cups. He didn’t have his world turned upside down during game seven of the playoffs when his team was in a wild card spot, causing them to lose it all. He actually has something to show for his sacrifices. As for myself, I made the biggest sacrifice ofall, and it cost me my fucking wife and baby. They were my life, and I lost them. I would give up everything to have them back.Everything.

My soul was crushed. I was completely broken, and my world had just imploded around me. There was no hope in sight. And what little support system I did have vanished in the blink of an eye. I was at rock bottom when the Colorado Wolves completely blindsided me by trading me off in a fire sale. One person didn’t give up on me; there was a whole conglomerate.

In order to keep my sanity, I decided it was best to leave that life in the past, along with everyone in it. Now, winning the Stanley Cup before I fall to an injury or am forced into retirement is my main focus. Failure isn’t an option. And I’ll be damned if I’ll leave this league giving my wife and son the middle finger, and that’s exactly what I would be doing if I left without that trophy before I retired.Now all I have left are my new teammates and the game. There is no room for anyone or anything else.

I don’t have the time, tolerance, or the drive to experience anything else outside of hockey. At thirty-one years old—on the brink of thirty-two—my time in the pros is dwindling. I live, eat, and breathe my career. It’s the only thing that keeps me going.

Carter picks up his beer and tips it my way. “It’s time you get out there and start dating again.”

“Not a fucking chance in hell . . .” I scoff, shaking my head at him.

All my prayers are answered when I spot someone’s head peeking around the corner as they stroll along the side of my house.

“Yo, Smiley! What’s happenin’, my man?” Jerome Johnson, one of our defensemen, calls out.

I mosey his way, smiling at him like the saving grace he is. He reaches out to shake my hand as his arm wraps me up in a man hug.

“You didn’t tell me there was a total smoke show moving in next door! I might have to go introduce myself to the new, hot neighbor girl.” He bites his bottom lip while rubbing his palms together. His head turns toward the house across the street. Inadvertently, my eyes follow the direction he’s looking. In my line of sight, I find a woman with short, toned legs, cut-off shorts, and a red halter top. Long, blonde hair cascades down her back. She’s facing the trunk of her black car, so I can’t see her face, but objectively, I can see where he would think she’s hot—if you’re into the Malibu Barbie type.With a garment bag placed over her arm, she hoists a box out of the car, using her elbow to close the trunk.

“Shit!” She curses loudly.

Malibu Barbie sets down the box, and the garment bag slides down her arm before haphazardly falling to the ground. She rubs her elbow, inspecting the spot where I’m sure there will be a bruise tomorrow, based on how loud she cursed. The wind whips the long golden waves around her face, masking her profile.

“Maybe you should go help her, Smiley,” Carter calls out.

I turn to find a smug expression resting on his face.

“Or . . . maybeIshould go help her,” Jerome counters.

Carter and Jerome lean to the side as they watch her make her way into the house. Without a word, I turn around and walk back to the outdoor kitchen. Gripping the island countertop with both hands, I hang my head in defeat, trying to collect myself.

I’ve gone out with my friend Nate on several different occasions in an attempt to hook up with a woman, but I never could follow through. I want to erase the pain and the emptinessthat comes with the loss of my marriage—to heal and get past it—but it feels like cheating. Even the thought of kissing another woman leaves me with a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach and the urge to vomit.

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