Dump and Chase (Nashville Assassins Next Generation 1)

Not sure if it will make mine. “He’s a dick.”

“Is that why you chopped him in the groin with your stick?”

Not my finest moment, and I’m pretty sure a fine will come in the morning, but he smacked me in the arm with his goalie stick.

“Hey, he hit me first.”

“Arm, dick. Which one is first?”

“He has a cup,” I throw back, and he scoffs.

“I guess so.” He sends me a grin before patting my leg. “You’re good to go.”

“Great.”

I hop off the table and send him a wave before I head out of the training room. I’m almost to the locker room doors when a voice stops me.

Elli Adler.

Kill me now.

“Aiden Brooks, what in the world?”

I let my shoulders fall as I stop in front of her. “I don’t know. He pissed me off. I let him get the best of me.”

“You know they might suspend you for that hit to the groin.”

“He hit me in the arm!”

She rolls her eyes. “It’s an arm! It’s his groin!”

“He wears a cup!” I complain, and she sets me with a look.

“What am I going to do with you?”

“I have no clue. I’m really sorry.”

“I told you to keep that nose clean. I can’t be playing games without my top center.”

I nod. “I know.”

To my surprise, she holds her arms out, and I go into them. She rubs my back, and I feel bad for this. I shouldn’t be going to her for comfort when I treated Shelli the way I did. I bet Elli wouldn’t be hugging me if she knew what happened. Nope, she’d probably be the one hitting me in the groin with a stick. “You seem off. Are you okay?”

“No, I had a crappy day.”

She pats my face. “Shelli did too. Maybe we should throw another party.”

My stomach sinks. “Please don’t.”

She laughs. “Then don’t fight goalies anymore.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She kisses my temple before pulling my face back. “What in the world did he say?”

I shake my head. “Nothing. It was dumb.”

She clicks her tongue at me before tapping my nose. “Keep your nose clean.”

“Trying,” I say, and she hugs me once more.

“Go home and sleep it off.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

But I know I won’t do that. Not when I need to get ahold of her daughter.

When I hit the hall, I turn the corner just as Merryweather is coming out of the locker room. His gaze meets mine, and then he shakes his head. “You’re a real dick, you know that?”

“Says the dude claiming to fuck the girl I want.”

“If you wanted her, you’d treat her better.”

I glare. “Fuck you. Want to go again?”

“You’re not worth it. I don’t even know why she’s so caught up on you. You’re trash.”

“You don’t even know me!” I yell back, and he laughs.

“I know a dick when I see one. You watch—she’ll get her head on straight and come back to the one who will treat her right.”

He taps his hand to his chest, and I raise a brow. “If you’re gonna treat her right, why isn’t she with you?”

“’Cause she’s caught up on you. I’m patient. I can wait.”

“Don’t. There is a reason she’s caught up on me.”

He rolls his eyes. “No clue why. It’s obvious you don’t give a shit about her.”

“You don’t know shit,” I sneer, and he shakes his head.

“Fuck off.”

“Right back at you,” I holler as he heads out the side door.

His words bother me, though. Did Shelli tell him what I did? Is that what she thinks? Man, I really fucked up. I pull out my phone and dial her number. It goes straight to voice mail, though, and my heart sinks. She isn’t going to talk to me.

And I can’t blame her one bit.

When the elevator doors open, I step out as I tuck my phone back into my pocket. My phone has been ringing off the hook since I left the rink. My mom and dad are hell-bent on talking to me, but I don’t want to talk to them. I only want to talk to one person, but she isn’t answering. It just keeps going to voice mail.

Take a hint, Brooks. She knows you’re trash.

I sigh as I pull out my keys. When I look up, though, I’m stunned in place.

Shelli is leaning on my door.

I pause midstep as my heart jumps into my throat. Her arms are crossed over her chest, bunching up her Assassins jersey. She’s in a pair of black leggings with thigh-high purple stiletto boots. Her hair is up in a huge bun, and on her face is painted the number six. Her dad’s number. She looks damn perfect.

“Hey,” I say.

“Hey.”

The tension is crackling around us as I take a step forward. “I tried calling you.”

“My phone is dead. My charger is on your bar.”

“Oh,” I say as my shoulders drop. “So, that’s why you’re here?”