Copyright © 2022 by Roxanne Tully

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.

Book Cover by Bernadett Lankovits

Illustrations by Adrien

First edition 2022

Playlist

Wild Heart (Daughtry)

Not Strong Enough (Apocalyptica)

I Just Wanna Run (The Downtown Fiction)

Alone (Heart)

You’re One in a Million (Bossom)

I’ll Follow You (Shinedown)

Kiss The Girl (Brent Morgan)

Perfect (Ed Sheeran)

1. August

1

“Come on. Come on.” I rapped my heel on the footrest of the bar stool, watching the screen—or rather several screens. As if something remarkably different would happen on another TV, as Troy Hartman missed yet another easy shot.

“The hell is up with you, tonight, bro?” I muttered under my breath, my teeth clenching with nerves. It wasn’t an easy game to watch. It was downright painful watching my brother play as though this were an unscheduled scrimmage as opposed to the season opener of the new NHL season.

“All that fame gettin’ to his head?” Finn asked, pouring another Guinness for the patron to my left.

“Maybe.” Somehow I doubted it. My brother would’ve known to bring his A-game tonight. This wasn’t just any game for the Brooklyn Blades, it was their chance at redemption. After coming in third in the Stanley Cup finals last season, the team was being booed before they hit the ice. Which in the big picture, meant nothing to anyone except the fans. They wanted to see you bust out of the gate and kick some ass. They were here because they wanted you to prove them wrong. To see you turn it around. Your performance set the tone for the rest of the season, and it was hard to get them back off a bad opener.

Which this—clearly was.

And it was Troy Hartman killing it for them. And not in a good way.

Since the season opener was in New York this year, at Brooklyn Arena, home of the Brooklyn Blades, I was summoned to attend the absurd festivities at Finnigan’s Pub in downtown Manhattan, which wasn’t set to start for another hour. Since I worked on Wall Street—and late most nights—I headed over straight from the office, knowing it was unlikely I’d come back down this way after the game if I watched from home—or even from Troy’s special guest seats at the arena.