Markus Reeves wasn’t an idiot.

Well, at least, he didn’t think he was.

Some might disagree, but he thought he was a pretty competent dude.

Especially on the ice.

One thing he was sure of was that hockey was hard; it wasn’t some pussy-ass sport. It took guts, it took stamina, and above all, it took heart. He had all three of those things—and more—but he was starting to realize that college hockey was nothing like playing in the AHL.

As Murphy slammed him hard into the boards, taking the puck as Markus slowly slid down to the ice, he was pretty sure he would never make it out of that rink alive. At least, not today.

Today, he sucked major ass.

It wasn’t anyone’s fault but his own.

He was the one hungover.

As he slowly got back to his feet, fighting back the bile in his throat, he shook his head before taking off down the ice to get the puck back. This wasn’t him; he wasn’t that kind of player, the one who caused problems or sucked. He worked hard, he trained hard because he loved his sport, and he wanted the big dream. The endgame.

The NHL.

But ever since he was sent down to the minors while his best friend, Jace Sinclair, went straight into the NHL playing for the Panthers, Markus felt his dream wasn’t within his grasp. He felt like a failure and like he would never succeed. He had been feeling a little down about it—well, if he were to be honest, he would admit it was more than just a little down. He felt like he was at rock bottom.

And to top it all off, he was jealous of his best bud.

As much as it made him sound like a child, he felt as if it wasn’t fair. He knew he was as good as Jace, maybe even better. His buddy was young, wild, while Markus was older, smarter, and knew how to make the plays to get ahead and when. Yet, Jace made it. He was voted Rookie of the Year last year and was killing it, personally and professionally. He had the life. The career, the wife, the kid…all before the age of twenty-one.

Meanwhile, Markus was almost twenty-five, not where he wanted to be careerwise but also drinking and fucking through his feelings.

And it was getting pathetic.

He wasn’t focused anymore. He couldn’t see the endgame because of all the feelings he had inside of him, and that was downright tragic. He was proud of Jace, loved him like a brother. Actually, he was his brother, his family. Markus knew that, so he knew he shouldn’t feel what he was feeling, but it was hard. He was worried that his time would never come. That he’d be stuck in the minors, playing for the Jacksonville Ninjas, the Nashville Assassins’ farm team, instead of playing in the big leagues and being a star.

Which wasn’t fathomable because Markus Reeves was star status, damn it.

Well, not today. Today he was shit.

“Reeves, what the fuck are you doing?” Jimmy St. Marc, also known as Coach Saint, yelled. Markus dug in, sweat dripping down his forehead, his cheek, and off his jaw. Fighting for the puck in the corner, he won it, sending it to the point where his roommate, Jordan, shot hard but was blocked. Thankfully, though, his other linemate, Bennett, was there, going over the goalie’s shoulder and scoring.

But no one cheered. They all knew they were a mess. It hadn’t been a star season for the Ninjas. They had been sucking since the beginning of the season, and maybe that was another reason Markus was so down. How was he supposed to get ahead when the team sucked? Everyone knew that Elli Adler, the owner of the franchise, wouldn’t be looking if they were failing and not producing.

But just in case they didn’t know that, Coach Saint came across the ice, his voice filling the rink. “You guys are fucking sloppy! I can’t even comprehend why you guys would think Elli Adler would want any of you!”

Duh, Markus thought as he gasped for breath, following the rest of his team toward where Saint was waiting for them, his face bright with anger. Saint wasn’t like Markus’s old college coach on the Bellevue Bullies, Coach River Moore, whom he loved and still talked to daily. Saint was a young coach, wanting to prove he was the best, which resulted in lots of cutting the team down instead of lifting them up. And that was another reason Markus was over this team. But River had told him, time and time again, this was his stepping-stone. He just had to keep climbing.

But he would never be able to do that if he didn’t clean up his shit.

Number one, he had to stop drinking. He hadn’t even been a drinker before. He did it to party, but even he felt he was getting too old for that. The only problem was he felt like he didn’t fit in with the Ninjas, and he had nothing else to do but drink. Which resulted in lots of nights of him being drunk in order to forget he hated everything about Florida and this team. He didn’t click with the guys, he didn’t click with the coach, and most of the time, he just felt like he was worthless. Yeah, he was one-half of the top defense duo, and maybe he was one of the highest scoring defensemen in the league this year, but it didn’t matter because no one else was producing. He just didn’t feel it. It wasn’t like when he played with the Bullies. He honestly had been a brother to everyone. His coach loved him like a son, and he felt at home.

Maybe that was it. He wasn’t home. He was in Florida, a good eleven hours from Nashville, Tennessee, the place that was home. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Jacksonville; it was okay, but it wasn’t home. He had been so stoked when he was drafted by the Nashville Assassins. He knew he was going to do awesome, that he would play with Jace’s brother Jayden and his wife, who was also Markus’s best friend, Baylor, and they would do big things. But his hopes and dreams came to crashing halt when Elli Adler said he was going down to the Ninjas.

He felt like a disappointment.

River had told him that was crazy, not to feel like that since not everyone went straight into the NHL after the draft. Hell, he hadn’t. River Moore had played in the AHL for three years before being called up to the Bruins where he won the Cup. One could only hope for a career like River Moore’s, but Markus was impatient as hell. He wanted it now. He wanted to be like the Sinclair brothers. All drafted first in consecutive years and then going off to kill in the NHL.

He felt like their redheaded stepbrother.

Even though he was black, and they loved him like they loved each other.

According to Mama Sinclair…er…Moore—it was still hard for Markus to remember she had gotten married almost a year ago—he was her fifth baby, and he could never express how much that meant to him. He had always loved the family dynamic the Sinclairs had; he hadn’t had that growing up. He was an only child, and his parents didn’t pay him much mind. It was his grandfather who got him into hockey, but then he passed from cancer when Markus was sixteen.

It was one of the greatest losses he had ever suffered. But to honor his grandfather, he played harder and knew he had to live his dreams for the man who gave him the love of the game. He missed Grandpa Mo. He was a cool dude, funny as hell, and he’d loved Markus. He’d loved him more than his mom and dad put together. If Mo had known that Markus hadn’t talked to them in over a year, that they hadn’t even been there when he was drafted, Mo’d lose it. But he wasn’t, and for the most part, Markus was alone.

Which was another reason he hated Florida.

While Jace was down in Fort Lauderdale, it was still a five-hour drive to see each other. With him having a baby and being the all-star rookie, it was easy to say Markus didn’t see his best friend much. Boy, could he use his friend’s guidance at the moment. Between the drinking and the girls, Markus wasn’t who he wanted to be. He wanted to be something great. He wanted to be respected and loved. The only way that would ever happen was if he got his head out of his ass, played it off, and got to where he wanted.

And maybe along the way, he could find a nice girl. That would be a good thing. He wasn’t one of those guys who was afraid of commitment or anything like that. He wanted to be in a relationship, but it hadn’t happened yet. Everyone he met was only worth a fuck, nothing more, and he hated that. He wanted to value someone; he wanted to grow with someone like his boys had done. But then, the last nice girl he’d found, he fucked over royally.

At that moment, it wasn’t the fact that he couldn’t breathe from the exhaustion that had his stomach clenching and his chest aching. It was something entirely different.

Better yet, someone.

“No wonder no one has been called up in months. This team is a joke. You’re making us look bad, people. Get your shit together. You know what? Hit the fucking showers.”

Letting out a long breath, Markus hung his head low as he followed his teammates off the ice. He needed a change. He had to get out of there. But then, he knew he wouldn’t make it if he couldn’t handle playing here. Not everywhere was ideal. That’s why he had to work. He had to dig in and show who he was and what he wanted.

And what he wanted was to succeed.

He just wished he had a coach who could help with that. Mold him into the player he needed to be in the NHL. He was on his own, and while he was used to it, it was scary. He didn’t want to be one of those players who was lost in the AHL. He wanted to shine. He wanted to do his grandpa proud.

He wanted to feel whole, but he needed to get out of here to do it.

“Why did I get the team of worthless bastards?” Coach Saint mumbled, but everyone heard him, heads dropping even lower.

“Such a douche,” Markus muttered, and Jordan nodded beside him.

“Can’t wait to get out of here.”

“We gotta play good for that to happen,” Mattis said from behind them, and Markus nodded.

He was right, and from now on, Markus was going to do just that. As he skated off the ice, he made a list.

No more drinking.

No more women.

Only hockey.

His one and only true love.

It was a solid plan, one he had no issue with following. He didn’t have any distractions here anyway. He could focus only on working to get to the top. Downtime, he’d read and work out. He could do this. He knew he could.

Or at least, he did for a whole five seconds. But that changed when he heard the click of heels against the solid floor around the ice.

All at once, everyone turned in the direction of the familiar noise.

Because that sound meant one thing: Elli Adler was in the building.

Gorgeous as the day was long, Elli Adler stood taller than she would on bare feet in her four-inch black stiletto heels. Her skirt was almost painted on, stopping right below her breasts in a vibrant shade of purple. Her billowy, sheer black top went down to her wrists, and she wore chunky jewelry Markus was convinced only Elli could pull off. Her lustrous auburn hair was up in a tight bun, and her makeup was perfectly applied. She looked like a million bucks.

One thing was for sure.

The Assassins and the Ninjas had one hell of a hot boss.

“Um, excuse me, Coach Saint,” she said, her voice dripping with a Southern twang as she held up her pointer finger.

Looking back at their owner, Coach stood straighter, moving his hand through his wild blond hair before skating toward the rink door she stood by. “Mrs. Adler, I hadn’t expected you today.”

“I can tell,” she said sharply, her eyes in slits. “I’d like to speak to you, and then to Markus Reeves.” She turned her gaze to where the guys were stopped, her gaze falling on Markus. “When you’re done showering, if you’d please meet us in Coach Saint’s office?”

Markus almost couldn’t find his voice. Blinking, he choked as he cleared his throat, nodding his head. “Um. Yes, ma’am.”

“Thank you,” she said, turning with ease and heading toward Coach’s office.

No one moved, only watched as her perfect, peach-shaped ass moved from side to side. At that moment, he knew everyone who was watching that ass, himself included, was going straight to hell—and that her husband, Shea Adler, was one lucky man. But when she disappeared down the hall, it was like he was struck in the head as he realized she had been speaking to him.

Crap. She wanted to talk to him.

Shit, was he fired?

Hell, was he moving up?

His heart kicked into overdrive as if he had been skating for nine hours straight, and he started for the showers as someone said, “What does she want Reeves for?”

“He’s been sucking bad.”

Their doubts made him roll his eyes and fueled him to walk faster. No one was supportive at all on the Ninjas, and it drove Markus crazy. If Elli Adler was here for what he hoped she was here for, the Bullies would have razzed him, but they would have lifted him up, been excited for him. But not the Ninjas. Nope, they were all jealous bastards, and he hated them. He wouldn’t let them derail him, though. Wouldn’t let them ruin this for him because he deserved this.

Well, he did when he wasn’t hungover.

And he would never be hungover again.

Rushing through his shower, he got dressed quickly and picked up his phone, texting Jace.

Markus: I think I’m getting called up.

Jace: Bout effing time, bro!

Markus: I almost don’t believe it.

Jace: Believe it, dude. That’s awesome. You know, now that I think of it, I think Jayden said something to her.

Markus paused, looking down at his phone, a grin curving on his face.

Markus: Really?

Jace: Yeah, now don’t fuck up.

Markus: Solid plan.

Jace: I’m known for them.

Markus: Please.

Jace: Hey, remember that time we went streaking through the girls’ locker room and onto the soccer field? I’m pretty sure we got laid for a week.

Markus: lol. You did not, I did, but no one wanted your itty-bitty dick.

When Jace sent the middle finger emoji, Markus scoffed as his phone dinged some more.

Jace: Whatever, loser, go knock them dead. I want to kick your ass on the ice.

Markus: Bring it, Sinclair.

Jace: It’s on, Reeves.

In true brotherly form, the two gave each other shit whenever they could, and it did nothing but give Markus an unstoppable grin. He missed his brother. He wanted the life that Jace had, that all the Sinclairs had, and this was his chance.

He just couldn’t fuck it up or get distracted.

Eyes on the prize.

The NHL.

 

 

Mekena Preston felt like she was slowly but surely going to freak the hell out.

As she stood in the middle of this amazing mansion, her eyes were wide as saucers while she gazed around in complete bewilderment.

She was insane.

Why she thought she could do this was beyond her.

But she just couldn’t say no to her best friend’s sister-in-law.

Earlier this year when Lucy Sinclair had asked her to take some family pictures of her and her boyfriend, along with her daughter, Mekena had known it would be a breeze. She loved doing beach shots, and that was one of the main things that helped her move from her home in Nashville, Tennessee to Fort Lauderdale. That and the fact that she had a place to live and a job waiting for her.

She still wasn’t sure she had made the right choice, picking up and leaving everything she had known. She had only been in Fort Lauderdale a little over a year, and she was happy, she guessed. She wanted to say that she was living the life. That she was out being a normal almost twenty-one-year-old girl, shopping, living on the beach, and partying. But actually, that was so far from the truth, it wasn’t even funny.

But at least she was happy…ish.

When Mekena wasn’t in the studio or on the beach taking pictures, she was at her house playing Scrabble with her aunt or watching reruns of Outlander and Gilmore Girls while cuddling with Mr. Right. Sadly, Mr. Right was not of the human male variety but really a very grumpy white Scottish Fold that had her heart. He had been her baby since she was fourteen, and while he was very cantankerous and kind of a dick, she loved him.

She was content with her life. Though, sometimes she felt like she ran from her problems, and she couldn’t stand that. If there was one thing about Mekena Preston, it was that she didn’t like to fail.

She was too smart for that.

Finishing at the top of her class, with a GPA of 4.0 all through middle and high school, Mekena had planned to be very successful. She wanted to be a doctor, or at least, she thought she had. After one year at Bellevue University, she decided she wasn’t made for the university life. It surprised everyone in her family. They’d all thought they’d be calling her “Doctor” one day, but it just didn’t feel right. She wasn’t sure why, she’d thought it was her goal, she had chosen the school of her dreams because it had a great medical program that offered her a wonderful scholarship, her older sister was also going there, and it was so close to home. It was everything she wanted, but it just fell flat.

It didn’t live up to her dreams.

Maybe it wasn’t her dream.

Or maybe it was because of what happened.

All she knew was that when she had a camera in her hand, her eye pressed to the viewfinder of her Nikon, she felt at home. She felt her imagination come alive with each click of her finger.

So she’d left.

Packed up, didn’t re-enroll, put Mr. Right in his carrier, and went to Florida, despite her parents begging her to reconsider. Despite her fear of going somewhere that was so unfamiliar to her. Yeah, she knew her aunt Libby, and Mekena had been to Fort Lauderdale before, but never in her life had she thought she would move there and start a life.

Sometimes, it didn’t feel right, but she couldn’t think of that right now. Not when she was supposed to be paying attention and taking notes on the lighting in the huge, gorgeous mansion. This would be her first indoor wedding. She had done outdoor weddings galore and even more outdoor shoots along with some studio shoots, but not an indoor wedding. And it was easy to say, she was shaking in her boots.

Or really, her supercute vintage Mary Jane’s.

She wasn’t sure why she was nervous; she should be ready. She had gone to a one-year program for photography, acing every class since she retained information like none other, and she had been learning about photography since she was young. Her very first gift from Aunt Libby had been a Polaroid camera that used to be hers and had been all over the world. It was awesome, and Mekena yearned to do the same thing—to travel the world and take pictures. She wasn’t a one-trick pony. She loved all types of photography, so she knew what she was doing. She did, but apparently, her body wasn’t listening to her brain at that moment.

Unfortunately, that happened a lot.

Still, though, she shuddered with fear as she sucked in a deep breath and bit the inside of her cheek while she gazed around. Everything in the house looked completely original, as if it were still the 1800s. It was beautiful, and as Mekena followed behind Lucy, she snapped pictures of the little things. The gold of the staircase, the uneven brick, even the cracks along the floor. It was the imperfectness of the home that thrilled her. She loved the thought that even though the house had cracks, it still stood in all its beautiful glory. She wished she could be more like the house.

Instead, the imaginary caution tape she was convinced was wrapped around her was strangling her more with every second that passed.

Blowing out a calming breath, she let her camera hang around her neck as she followed Lucy Sinclair while she moved her hand up and down in the direction of the stairs. Lucy was such a beautiful woman, favoring her brothers more so than Mekena had ever seen. Her hair was lighter than usual, but her blazing green eyes were breathtaking. Usually, Lucy had a very bad case of resting bitch face, but every time Mekena saw her now, she was grinning.

“So you think I should come down here? I don’t know. I don’t like how it is two staircases. Should Benji come down the other one?”

Benji Paxton, who was currently carrying their daughter on his shoulders, looked over at his bride. While the grin on Lucy’s face was unstoppable, Benji’s was gorgeous. He loved Lucy and their daughter something insane, and everyone knew it. His love radiated off him. It was stunning.

“It doesn’t work like that, does it?”

They both looked back at their wedding planner, Grace Justice. Grace was one of those women a person easily respected upon meeting. She was refined, lovely, and so damn smart. This wasn’t her first rodeo, and Mekena was sure Grace wasn’t shaking with nerves like she was. As Grace pressed her palms into her hips, Mekena couldn’t help but idolize the woman. She was perfect. “Not really. I’ve done over two hundred weddings here, it looks fine. I promise.”

That clearly puzzled Lucy as she nodded, her eyes looking back at the stairs. As Lucy bit into her lip, gazing up and down the stairs, Mekena caught Benji grinning at his bride, his eyes full of all sorts of love for her. It kind of warmed Mekena’s heart. She could still remember doing their engagement shots like it was only yesterday. It had been only ten months ago, but it had been such a memorable experience. Since then, they had moved in together, gotten legally married, and Benji had adopted Lucy’s daughter, Angie. Their life was moving along beautifully, and now, Benji wanted to give Lucy the wedding she deserved. His words, not Mekena’s.

And just like that, she was swooning.

Clearing her throat, Lucy shook her head, her brows coming together. “I don’t know. Maybe I should come out from underneath?”

Sensing her anxiety, Benji came beside her and took her hand. “Hey, I’ve got an idea.”

“Yeah?” she asked, looking up at him and their daughter.

“How about you come down one side, right after Angie comes down the other to meet Jace?”

Angie lit up, bouncing on his shoulders. “Yes! Mom, that would be awesome! Then we can have, like, bluebirds flying in the sky, dropping glitter around us!”

Benji grinned at his daughter’s crazy idea and nodded. “That too. I’m sure Mrs. Justice can make that happen.”

Grace’s eyes widened, and then she laughed. “I can try.”

Lucy’s face curved in a grin as she shook her head. “Yeah, I’m sure she can. Yes, I love it. You’re so smart, Paxton.”

He came in close, and she tilted her head back as he met her lips with his. “Don’t you forget it either, Paxton.”

As Mekena imagined the little girl and her mother coming down the stairs, a grin covered her face as Lucy looked back at her. “Do you think that would look good, Mekena?”

She nodded eagerly. “Yes, I do.”

Grace looked over to her and then smiled. “I forgot you were back there. You’re so quiet!”

Mekena’s cheeks reddened as she nodded. “I get that a lot.”

Grace gave her a grin before smacking her hands together. “Well, that’s solved. Let’s move on. You’ll come down the stairs, and the back doors will be opened and we’ll marry you right there.”

Mekena scoped out everything, deciding where she would stand to get the best shots. As Grace talked about the flowers, Mekena moved around, looking through her lens and taking test shots. When she noticed Benji nuzzling Angie’s cheek, she snapped a quick photo and smiled.

That man loved his daughter.

“What do you think, Mekena?”

She looked over to where Lucy was watching her, and she blushed. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t listening.”

Lucy smiled. “Do you think we should come more out on the porch or stay inside? What will be better for you?”

Walking to where they were, she looked around and shrugged. “Either is fine. The lighting will be beautiful and complement you, I’m sure.”

“Oh, hush.” Lucy waved modestly, and Mekena smirked.

“It will look amazing, I just know it,” she said confidently. She just wished she felt an ounce of it. Mekena had no doubt that Lucy would look phenomenal, but she worried she’d mess something up. She just couldn’t afford to do so. Her reputation had to stay intact; she valued it way more than she cared to admit.

Lucy nodded before looking back at Grace. “Let’s do inside.”

“Awesome.” Grace nodded as Lucy went to Benji and then in the direction of the reception hall. Turning to follow, Mekena noticed she had fallen into step with Grace as she grinned down at her. In her heels, Grace was well over three inches taller than Mekena’s 5’3”. Plus, she looked like a million bucks while Mekena looked like a nun.

“How long have you been in the business, Mekena?”

She gave her a small smile as Mekena’s heart jumped up into her throat. “A little over a year, but I’ve taken pictures my whole life.”

“Oh! I thought you’d been doing this for a while.”

“Just a year,” she said with a smile as her heart warmed at the compliment.

“Is this a new venture for you, then?”

Mekena shrugged. “Not really. I’ve always loved taking pictures, but I decided to pursue it hard-core when I dropped out of college at the beginning of the summer.”

Grace’s face scrunched up in confusion. “How old are you?”

“Almost twenty-one.”

Grace laughed. “Oh, I thought you were older!”

“I get that a lot,” she said once more, not the least bit offended. She knew that she didn’t look her age, and she was okay with that. She wanted to be taken seriously, which was why she dressed like a businesswoman and not some early twenties party girl. She wanted to succeed; she wanted to be the best at her craft.

“You seem wise beyond your years.”

“My aunt Libby tells me that a lot.”

“Well, obviously because Aunt Libby knows her stuff,” Grace added, sending Mekena a wink. “You’re not from around here, are you? Out-of-towner?”

Mekena shook her head. “Actually, I grew up here, right outside of Franklin, but I recently moved to Florida.”

“Ah, that’s too bad.”

Mekena’s brows came together. “It is?”

“Yeah, my son, who is nineteen almost twenty, is moving back home. You’d be perfect for him.”

Her face flushed red as she let out a little giggle. Grace Justice was not trying to hook her up with her son, who Mekena was sure was just as gorgeous as she was. “Wow, you’re even prettier when you’re smiling,” Grace complimented. “He’s cute, you know.”

Mekena laughed. “I don’t doubt it.”

“No, really, not sounding weird, but he is gorgeous. I have good genes, which means good babies in the future.”

Mekena choked on her laughter, shaking her head. “Not weird at all.”

Grace laughed. “You know what?”

“What?”

“I’ve decided I’m gonna talk you into never leaving Nashville.”

Snickering, Mekena shook her head. “One, you aren’t old enough to have a twenty-year-old, and two, Florida is my home.”

She was lying through her teeth, but what else could she say? She was wrapped in that bright yellow caution tape and on the mend from a shitty breakup that sent her running away from all her problems? Nope. She’d lied and felt a little giddy that someone said she was pretty today.

“Well, I’ll have to change that, or better yet, Ryan will.”

Why was she still giggling? “Please, you’re going to make me snort.”

Grace grinned. “You should smile more.”

She smiled a little more as she nodded before Grace was asked a question, leaving Mekena alone with her thoughts. She used to smile a lot, all the time, actually. Well, not all the time. But for a good solid month, it was every day.

When he made her smile.

But just like this house, some things were a relic of the past. And not everything could be restored.