Page 1 of Power Forward

Chapter One

Jackson

“At what point of the day do we get cake?” Elliot asks, fiddling with one of the elastic straps of his forest-green suspenders as he shifts from foot to foot. The guy is incapable of standing still. “I was promised there would be cake.”

The ceremony doesn’t start for another twenty minutes, but for someone like Elliot Olsen, twenty minutes is a long time. Something he likes to make sure we know whenever we’re having a good offensive game because it means he spends a lot of time on his own in front of the pipes.

I personally don’t see it as a bad thing, but goalies are known to be a little weird.

Okay, maybe not a little weird.A lotweird. But Elliot wears it well.

“When I got married to Katy, I suggested there should be cake at different stages of the day,” Jonathan Peyton tells us, counting on his fingers as he lists them off. “Arrival cake,post-kiss cake, pre-speech cake, post-dinner cake, then the main-show cake.”

“Dude, that’s a lot of cake,” Carter Lockwood laughs. “Imagine the sugar high.”

“It would be magical,” my teammate Zach Reid replies, flashing his boyfriend a big smile. “I definitely wouldn’t say no to that.”

“Same. I don’t know why they didn’t take my suggestion,” Peyton says, perplexed.

Elliot falls into one of the chairs behind him and lets out a long, exasperated sigh. “Jacob told me about the cake he’s made, and it’s all I’ve been able to think about fordays.” He wraps his lips around the rim of his champagne glass and throws the liquid to the back of his throat like it’s a shot, then bares his teeth in a grimace. “Champagne doesn’t taste the same when it’s not straight out the bottle or after winning the Cup.”

“Drinking champagne in anything other than the Cup is plain wrong,” Zach chuckles. The defenseman doesn’t have a dainty champagne flute in his hand, having swapped his bubbly beverage for a coffee. Although, the coffee cup looks just as dainty, given his huge stature. His laughter trails off as he furrows his brows. “Wait. How have you been waiting days when he only told you about it last night?”

“Exactly. It has been days because in Australia, it’s already tomorrow, so that means they have been waiting days, ergo,days.” Elliot waves his hand out to the side and rolls his eyes, silently saying,“Fucking duh.”

I frown in confusion, trying to understand his logic, but since I was traded to Chicago from Buffalo last February, I’ve learned not to question Elliot’s thought process.

Like I say,goalies. Weird creatures.

The five of us are standing on the edge of the courtyard, where rows of rustic white wooden chairs are neatly placed in two sections. They’re facing a colorful floral arch that looks out onto a sweeping view of the Santa Susana Mountains. It’s very picturesque and romantic. The perfect setting for my teammate Blaine Olsen—Elliot’s twin brother—to get married to his partner, Alex.

Sometimes I wonder what piece of advice I’d give myself in my rookie year. A tidbit to prepare myself for what was to come. I often think it would be this. That the second I signed my name on the dotted line of an NHL contract, I would also be waving goodbye to my off-seasons for the foreseeable future. Because the moment the hockey season ends, it officially becomes wedding season. There’s a small window every summer between the end of the postseason and the start of training camp, andboom,it seems like everyone is getting hitched. It’s a hectic dash trying to buy registry gifts and making sure the pants of my trusty wedding suit still fit over my thighs and ass, to booking flights to whatever scenic destination will be the backdrop to the vows being said that weekend.

Oh, and organizing childcare. Now that I’m a single father of two, it’s not as easy to up and leave for weekends on end. Yeah, my parents help out a lot. Having their help with the kids was the main reason why I requested the trade, but I don’t want to always rely on them because they do so much for me as it is. It wasn’t so bad when I was younger and had no kids. I lived for the evening reception, where I could loosen my tie and just… let loose with my friends.

But those days are long gone.

Last year, I managed to avoid most of the weddings I was invited to, using the excuse of wanting to spend the summer exploring our new home with my kids. But I have a lot of respect for Blaine and Alex, and I’m honored to be a part of their special day.

As if on cue, my phone begins to vibrate. I slip it out of my pocket, and dread crawls up my throat. It’s a video call from Ryan’s iPad.

Worry prickles up my spine, and I excuse myself from where my teammates are standing and walk over to a quiet corner of the courtyard to answer. My children’s faces fill the screen, and the first thing I notice is Isabela is visibly upset. Her cheeks are flushed a deep pink, and her eyes are glassy. My stomach churns, and my mind begins to race, thinking of all kinds of wild scenarios that could have happened to cause my daughter to be distressed, but I try not to let it show.

“Hey, what’s going on?” I ask, pushing my sunglasses to the top of my head so they can see me. “Everything okay?”

“Hey, Dad. Isabela’s upset that you’re not here. I told her you’re at the wedding, but she didn’t believe me,” my son, Ryan, tells me. He’s got his arm wrapped around his sister’s shoulders, and his iPad is propped up on his pillow where they’re sitting on his bed.

“I miss you, Daddy,” she whines, and then her chin wobbles.

Oh, shit.Here we go.

I suck in a sharp breath, waiting for the inevitable. My daughter might only be four years old, but it seems she knows how to play on my weak spots. Even though I’m expecting it—because she does this every time I’m on theroad too—it doesn’t stop the stab in my chest when she lets out a choked sob and tears begin to fall down her cheeks.

Fuck. I never should have left Chicago, wedding be damned.

“I know, peanut, I miss you too. I’ll be home soon, okay? Do you remember why I came to California?”

She gives a shaky nod and hiccups. “B-b-blaine and Alex… getting married.”

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