Don’t get me wrong. I love my family, but they’re so picture-perfect it’s like something out of a sitcom. Famous sports agent father, dermatologist to the stars mother. Both younger siblings on the honor roll. Sometimes it feels borderline suffocating, like there’s no margin for error. One mistake on my end, and I won’t be a true Donahue anymore.
As my father pulls onto the exit ramp leading to Los Angeles International Airport, he glances at me through the rear-view mirror. “Remember what we talked about, Ty.”
“I will.”
Keep your eyes on the prize.
Hockey. Training. School. No distractions.
This year, I’ve been stricter with myself than ever. Lots of sleep. Nutrition on point. Perfect compliance with my training plan. This doesn’t leave me with much free time, which means I hardly go out and I limit myself strictly to casual hookups. No strings, no feelings, no promises. With so much else going on, I can’t offer anything more than that.
“There’s a world of difference between playing at the college level and the league.” Dad turns into the passenger drop-off zone and shifts into park, switching on his hazards. “Some of these guys get their asses handed to them in their first year playing pro. It shakes their confidence, and it’s hard to come back from. I want to make sure you’re as prepared as possible.”
To his credit, he isn’t agenting right now. He’s in father mode. There’s a protective tone to his voice, and I get the sense that he’s trying to help me the best way he knows how.
“I know, and I appreciate it.”
“You’re almost there,” he adds. “In another year and a half, all of this will have paid off.”
A knot forms in my stomach, and I swallow, trying to quell it. Other athletes would kill for the chance to be in my shoes, so what the fuck is my problem?
Deep down, I know the answer to that.
When you’ve been given the world, everyone expects you to dominate it.
CHAPTER 2
HADES
SERAPHINA
I’m not sure whether I should be worried or annoyed. My brother was supposed to meet me at one o’clock to help unpack my vehicle, but I just pulled up to his place and I’m staring at an empty driveway. His black pickup is nowhere to be found.
Confused, I shift my car into park and let the engine idle while I verify the house number. Just like I thought, it matches what Chase texted me. Checking the Maps app further confirms I’m in the right place, so where the heck is he?
As I reach for my phone to call him, it lights up with a message.
Chase: Sorry, Sera. Ran over a nail and my tire is fucked. Be there as soon as I can.
Chase: If you beat me home, go ahead and let yourself in. Code is 4938.
While the delay is decidedly not his fault, I’m still irritated. Not with him, necessarily, but with life in general, or maybe with the universe. Ever since our mother’s cancer diagnosis, I’ve eaten very little, slept even less, and my sanity is hanging on by a thread. Lately, even the most minor inconveniences feel like the end of the world. Can’t one thing go right?
Heaving a sigh, I write him back and set my phone aside. Then I crane my neck, giving my new temporary home a once-over. Towering snow-covered trees frame a gray stucco two-story with sleek black trim, and modern, oversized windows. It looks nice enough from the outside. Let’s pray the inside doesn’t smell like dirty socks and sweaty athletic gear like I suspect. Hockey players are gross, which is why I have some serious reservations about living with three of them. The bathroom situation is probably a nightmare.
I let the ignition run while I sip my decaf vanilla latte, debating whether to let myself inside. Even though Chase claims it won’t be an issue, I’m worried his roommates will resent me for crashing here on zero notice. Not having my brother here makes moving in seem all that much more intimidating—but if he takes a long time, I could be sitting out here in my car for a while.
My phone rings before I can decide what to do. Instead of it being Chase like I expect, it’s Abby. Stifling a yawn, I accept the call using Bluetooth.
“You’re coming out with us tonight, right?” Abby’s high-pitched voice booms over my speaker. I’ve known her since elementary school, and while she’s five foot nothing, her personality is stronger than a shot of straight Everclear. “Kendra and Rachel are coming over at five to pregame.”
“Would love to Abbs, but I have to unpack.”
Abby huffs. “You’re no fun.”
“Let me get settled, and I’ll see.” All this change has left me feeling unnervingly adrift. Back in Arizona, I had a solid group of friends, knew most of my professors, and could navigate the campus blindfolded. It was easy. Comfortable. Familiar.
Now I’m starting all over again.
A vise wraps around my neck, and I swallow another sip of coffee that does nothing to alleviate the tension restricting my throat. On second thought, maybe going out wouldn’t be a bad idea. It would help get my mind off things, if temporarily.
“Come on, Sera.” Abby’s voice climbs. “It’s your first night back and we need to celebrate. You can unpack tomorrow. Plus, there’s an invite-only event at XS, and I can get us on the list. Maybe you’ll see your sexy Devil from Halloween again.”
“Hades,” I correct her, my face heating. The masked guy I hooked up with at a nightclub masquerade ball has reached legendary status within our friend group—probably because he gave me an impressive total of three orgasms during a quickie on the edge of a grimy bar bathroom sink.
“Fine,” she says. “Your sexy Hades.”
“Psh, I doubt I’ll ever see him again. What are the odds of that?” Our encounter fell woefully short when it came to exchanging personal details. The only things I took away from our tryst was that he’s hot （obviously）， has lots of tattoos （further adding to the hotness factor）， and knows where the G-spot is. Somehow, we didn’t touch on where he lived, where he went to college, or much of anything else—including his name.
In all of my twenty years on this planet, I’ve never done something like that before. Or since, actually.
Either way, I was left with the impression that unlike me, our anonymous hookup wasn’t out of character for him. He probably wouldn’t even remember me. I only wish I could say the same. That night has lived in my head rent-free ever since. Toe-curling, lip-biting, panty-soaking memories I reminisce about late at night when I’m alone in bed with a battery-operated toy in one hand.
“Think it over?” Abby pleads, snapping me out of my dirty daydream. “XS will be way more fun than opening boxes.”
It’s hard to argue with that. As impractical as it would be, a night out sounds a lot more appealing than drowning in a sea of cardboard.
“Sure,” I concede, knowing I shouldn’t. “I’ll come for a while.”
My brother pulls up beside me and gets out of his truck. He strides around the front and raps on my window impatiently, his deep brown eyes fixed on me.
“Let’s go, Sera. I have to leave for practice soon.” His voice is muffled through the glass.
“Gotta run,” I tell Abby, unfastening my seatbelt. “I’ll text you later so we can make plans.”