Boyfriend Bargain by Ilsa Madden-Mills

2

Zack

The door to the Kappa house looms in front of me, and I toy with the idea of ditching. I hate the dog and pony show that waits for me inside.

I’m sick of it.

I know what they see—a talented hockey player with the world at his feet—but it’s not true. Nothing is true.

I push a hand through my hair. What I should do is get the hell out of here and decompress from our win tonight—which we barely pulled out of our ass.

At least I didn’t have another episode.

My gut twists as I think back to the Minnesota-Duluth game and how I lost my shit. I can’t let that happen again, not when it might get enough press that the Predators catch on.

I touch the necklace that’s under my shirt. It’s not a magic talisman, but it does keep me grounded—for now—and as my new sports psychologist says, it sure as hell won’t hurt.

I grimace. He saw my fuckup all over TV like everyone else.

I’ve been nervous and anxious during a game before, but that debacle…that was a new animal.

I feel color rising on my face. It was also embarrassing.

That night, the medics and trainers took one look at me and called 911. I came to and told them to stop. Fuck, I pleaded for them to cancel the ambulance, but they didn’t and I ended up at the ER. One EKG and a few tests later, there I was, my heart just fine. Our team lost to our biggest rival, and I walked out of the hospital and told the public I’d had a recent bout with the flu and wasn’t completely recovered yet.

Lie.

Only Coach, Eric, and Reece know the truth.

Because if people discover I have real issues with anxiety, I’m done in the NHL, all my dreams destroyed.

Thus the new psychologist. The thing is, you can’t fix a guy with guilt so deep it cuts like a knife.

“Dude. You going to stand out here in the cold all night? Everyone’s waiting.” Eric winks and nods his head at the door. “Some girl is dying to get with you.”

I throw a look at him, taking in the styled dark red hair and short beard. He’s all decked out in his blue dress shirt, slacks, and loafers—his I’m gonna get laid tonight outfit. My best friend since summer training his freshman year, he’s a year younger than me and sharp as hell underneath that lighthearted playboy exterior.

“It’s just a party, man.” This comes from my brother Reece, who’s also dressed for pussy, his face angular and chiseled like mine. His blond hair is short, though, and he’s two inches shorter than me.

He and the team are the reason I decided to finish my senior year when I could have gone straight to the NHL. I want a championship for Hawthorne so bad I can feel it in my bones. We missed it last year, and damn, that sticks in my throat.

Reece gives me a come on look, exasperation on his face. “You need to lighten up. Just enjoy yourself.”

Enjoy myself?

My lips tighten. He doesn’t get that I’m tired of the attention. “You two go on.” I stuff my hands in my jeans. “I’ll call an Uber, and you can drive my Escalade back.” I’m thinking most of the Uber drivers might be in for the night by the time they leave.

Eric throws an arm around my shoulders. “Fuck that. These people need to see us. We won and they planned this to see you, the king.” He grins, wide and genuine, and I have to smirk at the missing tooth from tonight’s game. He’ll get it fixed in a few days, but right now he doesn’t even care, just riding high on our win.

I look back at the Kappa house.Lately these victory parties just remind me that I don’t deserve accolades.

I’m a fucking terrible person.

And I’m slowly losing my mind.

I resist the urge to just take off running, to let my body exhaust itself until I can’t feel anything but the burn of exercise. I wish I could just be normal and take this knot in my gut and make it work for me, not against me.

I know the truth, though, straight from the head doctor: You have an issue.This is your new normal.

I inhale several deep breaths and let them out slowly.

“All right.” I give Eric a nod and he opens the door, music spilling out.

We walk in and gaze around the darkened room, and I feel the weight of every person in it staring at me. I straighten my shoulders and give a defiant glare back, putting my mask on, pretending I don’t have a care in the world.

People swarm around us and I push through, trying to feel the excitement I used to from the attention, but all I have is dread in my stomach—

Until my gaze sweeps the room and meets hers as she peers around a column.

Her.

Her.

Her.

I narrow my eyes, my heart accelerating, my brow knitting.

I’ve seen her before in passing, those wide, intelligent eyes and that full, pouty mouth with the slight indentation in the middle.

I’ve never seen her here, though, and not with her hair down and glasses gone.

Fuck me.