Page 1 of Afterglow
Chapter 1
I’m A Loser
Fletcher
February
My cock has always beenan asshole hell-bent on embarrassing me.
Being hard inside a double cup and soaking through the compression boxers isn’t my idea of a good time, especially at the Ottawa Regents’ annual family skate.
All because the goalie mentioned Behraz Irani in passing and then skated off for a photo shoot with his loved ones.
That’s how it always starts. A small inkling, the most fleeting of ideas, sets off rich imagery from my memory of her dark eyes and even darker hair against fair, creamy skin, full, pink lips and rosy cheeks, the insane curves of her body, and ends with a wild series of fantasies.
We share the same social circle—the Regents’ alternate captain, Landon, and my goalie, Wade, are married to her bestfriends—but I’m so far out of her orbit, I might as well be in another galaxy.
“Heads up!” A rogue puck whizzes by, and another forward, Blake Szeczin holds up a glove.
“Sorry!” I reply with a weak wave, watching my breath condensate over the ice as I look around.
Something about being in a space filled with people feels lonelier than when I’m on my own. Being one of seven kids growing up on Prince Edward Island left a hollow ache in my chest. The family has since doubled as my siblings got married and had kids, only exacerbating the feeling. Signing with Ottawa was an easy escape but didn’t heal the longing for companionship.
Now, don’t get me wrong. The Regents are closer to me than my own family since I joined, but being surrounded by doting relationships is an especially painful reminder when you’re perpetually single. If I sound jealous, it’s because I am.
A few dozen feet from me is our long-standing captain, Derrick Jaeger. He poses with his wife, Skylar, kissing through a smile as Doug wags his tail and vies for attention between their skates with awoof.
Closer to center ice, the team’s all-star, Landon Davé-Radek, turns his infant daughter to face the camera, bouncing her so the double poms of her toque wiggle like wheat in a breezy field. Indi pulls the two of them close, and Akhila’s chubby cheeks spill past her tiny, round face when her parents lift her slightly and point to the embroidered #12 on her officially licensed, black and gold Ottawa Regents snowsuit.
Even our goalie, Wade, previously a well-known fuckboy, stands with Gabe Finch, the award-winning sideline reporter for the NHL. He looks at his new wife like Jaeger’s dog looks at his humans.
Rightfully so. She’s an incredible, gracious journalist, not to mention beautiful, though Wade would probably gouge my eyes out if I told him I thought his wife was pretty.
My eyes follow the gaggle of #23 jerseys skating behind the net, bumping and huffing between short races, taunting each other over missed goals, and taking silly pictures. Between my siblings, their spouses, and a handful of nieces and nephews, there are fourteen donning my name and number. Slightly fewer than usual, since Mom broke her foot and Dad stayed with her, and my youngest brother is somewhere in Croatia.
Fourteen family members, a full roster, and somehow, I still don’t feel like I belong.
Another cloudy breath sighs from my nose.
Two of my sisters, Piper and Greer, round up their little ones and shepherd them out of the rink. Greer’s eldest is having some sort of tantrum and lies down in rebellion. His dad attempts to appease him but loses patience and ends up hooking a hand into the footplate of his skate, preparing to drag him across the ice. Before they get far, Parker, my older brother, squats down and convinces him to stand.
It’s much gentler than what I remember.
“Get up, Fletch.”
I wiped away the threads of my snot with the back of my glove.
“And quit crying. You’re not a baby anymore.”
I was nine. He was fourteen. We were both babies.
My bloodied bottom lip quivered as I blinked back tears.
He tilted my head by the helmet roughly, taking a better look at the damage done by the opposing team’s defenseman.
“It’s a small cut,” he said through a tsk. “Get it cleaned up and get back on the ice.”
My cheek felt warm and heavy. “But it hurts.”
