She nodded. “You got it, boss. But hurry up. You have an appointment in ten.”
I groaned but threw my garbage in the trash can. I took a quick trip to the bathroom. There was a bite mark on my neck, and that made me smile. Blaise Holmstrom was an interesting man. I was glad to help with rebound sex to get over his ex, especially after he melted my brain with unending orgasms. I hoped he came into the shop soon to get that tattoo on his chest covered up. Maybe it would help him get over her for good.
I fingered the lotus petal on the inside of my wrist, where it covered my ex’s name. There was a reason I refused to tattoo lover’s names on client’s skin and also why cover-ups had become my thing. I didn’t want anyone to end up like me.
Chapter Five
BLAISE
“Are you just getting home?”
My youngest brother Michael fixed me with a raised eyebrow when I walked into the door of our dad’s row house in South Philly.
Being one of six meant you were never alone. It had been nice growing up when Dad was so distant with everyone after Mom’s death, but now that I was a grown-ass man and living with Dad again, it was irritating.
“Yeah, why?” I asked dryly.
I was tired and irritable after a night of no sleep. Not that I regretted spending it with Veronica. She was hot, and that lady rocked my world. The mental image of using her vibrator on her was locked away in my spank bank for the future. Holy hell, was that hot.
Michael sat on the couch with his laptop in front of him, and I knew that meant he was working on his book. Michael was an amazing hockey player, but he had no aspirations to play professionally. Which was surprising when you looked at our family. Nope, what career aspirations did my brother have? To be a romance writer! Which had been so weird to me. He swore me to secrecy and then chastised me when I thought only women wrote those kinds of books. Oh, my baby brother gave me a lesson on that for sure.
“Dad was looking for you,” Michael said.
I sighed and slumped down on the couch next to him. “Did he say what he wanted?”
“To train with you.”
I groaned again and closed my eyes. I was exhausted, and the last thing I wanted to do was train like a dog with Dad. He could be more hardcore than any of my trainers.
Michael tried to hide his laughter as he typed away at his computer. “You look like shit.”
I gave him the finger. “I had a late night.”
“Hmm.”
I slanted open an eye. “What?”
“Nothing.”
I kicked his foot. “Bro, what?”
Michael stopped his incessant typing and pinned me with a serious look. “Do you know you have a hickey on your neck?”
“Fuck…” I muttered and rubbed my neck. Veronica was a hellcat in bed, and I was all about it, but I didn’t realize she’d left her mark on me. I’d never hear the end of it from my asshole brothers.
He laughed again. “Good for you, man. I was worried about you.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t want you to end up like Dad. He let losing Mom consume him. You remember how much it sucked.”
“You and Maja had it worse than the rest of us,” I argued.
Maja and Michael barely remembered Mom. They were two when she died, so I didn’t blame them. It was hard to relate to the twins when they didn’t understand the rest of our pain. Hard to explain that my heart felt like someone put it in a blender when they had no memory of her.
“Not the point,” Michael argued back. “Eli had to be Dad to all of us at thirteen because Dad couldn’t deal without her. I don’t want that to happen to you.”
“Hey, have you ever had a girl tie you up?” I asked, changing the subject. I laughed at my brother’s wide eyes.
“No…I’m usually the one doing the restraining,” he admitted. He clearly said it without thinking because his cheeks reddened. “Don’t tell Mei I said that.”
“Too bad,” I said and ran a hand along the stubble on my jaw. “I didn’t hate it.”
“Are you going to see this woman again?”
“Nah, V made it clear she wanted something casual.” The frozen look on his face made me pause. I kicked his foot again. “Dude, what?”
“Please don’t tell me you took home one of the bar regulars,” he explained with a shake of his head.
“What’s wrong with Veronica?” I asked.
Michael couldn’t answer because the clomping of footsteps alerted us of Dad’s presence. He had his headphones on and was in exercise clothes, clearly coming back in from a run. That man was a machine, I swear.
“Oh, Blaise, good you’re home. Did Veronica get home okay?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
And then she sucked my cock and fucked me within an inch of my life. I wasn’t gonna tell him that last part, though.
“Good. I worry about that girl,” Dad admitted, and then he walked off.
Michael and I shared a ‘what the fuck’ look with each other. I ran a hand through my hair and realized I had left my beanie at Veronica’s. I guess I was never getting that back. At least we made it a night and morning to remember.
I pulled out my phone and stared at the black screen, jabbing my finger on the home button until I realized it was dead.
“Dude!” Michael exclaimed from next to me on the couch. “Did you see this shit?”
“What?” I asked.
“Call your agent right now.”
“Why?”
“Dude, do it.”
I held up my dead phone.
He kicked me. “Go plug it into the charger and call your agent!”
I grumbled and stomped upstairs to my childhood bedroom. I plugged my phone in and waited for it to load up. My notifications blew up across the screen. I swiped them away and called my agent, not bothering to see all the calls or texts.
“Dude, where have you been?” Doug huffed out.
“Sorry, late night, and my phone died. What’s going on?” I asked.
“Have you heard?”
“My little brother told me to call you. I have no idea what’s going on.”
He sighed on the other line. “Jesus, you’re out of the loop. Open your email right now and look at what I sent you.”
But I didn’t have to open his email. I put him on speakerphone and looked at my phone, and the first thing I saw was a push notification that read, ‘Toronto Wolves trade Blaise Holmstrom to–’
All the blood drained from my face as I read the word ‘trade.’
The Wolves traded me. After a shitty season where I let my emotions get the better of me, they showed me the door.
“What the fuck?” I screeched out, raking a frustrated hand through my hair. This was not how I wanted this season to start.
“Relax, kid,” Doug reassured me. “Open your damn email.”
I looked down at my phone and clicked into the news story, allowing me to read the full headline.
‘Toronto Wolves trade Blaise Holmstrom to the Philadelphia Bulldogs.’
Holy shit.
The Bulldogs wanted me. I had three years left on my five-year contract, and Toronto didn’t want me anymore, but Philly did. My home team wanted me. The team my dad had played for and who I still rooted for when I wasn’t playing against them. My team wanted me.