“Are you coming to the rehearsal dinner?”
Tate looked up from the competitive game of Ping-Pong he was engaged in with Assassins forward Phillip Anderson. Guys hung out in the locker room, winding down after a game or practice before heading home. When Tate glanced up at Lucas, wearing an expensive-looking suit, he was given the usual “Hurry up and answer me” look. Lucas had invited him to the rehearsal dinner weeks ago. Initially, Tate had wanted to go, but lately all he wanted to do was sit in his condo and be by himself. He’d win this game and then he would go home.
Alone.
He shook his head, tossing the white ball across the table to Phillip. “No, I have things to do tonight,” he said to Lucas. “It’s a family thing.”
Lucas rolled his eyes. “You are family, Tate. Come on, Fallon wants you to come.”
Tate shook his head again. “No, thank you. I’m tired anyway.”
And he was. The Assassins had an intense practice, and afterward an even more intense team meeting. Bacter yelled and screamed about the way they had been playing and suggested they all get it together before the next round of games, which began in a week. It gave Lucas and Fallon enough time to go on their honeymoon and come back without missing anything. That was one of the reasons Fallon had planned the wedding for that week. At first she’d wanted to wait until next year, but Lucas wanted it done quickly, and who could blame him?
Tate thought Fallon was gorgeous, and a great catch. She was always really nice to him and, as Lucas had said, did treat him like part of the family. Seeing him and Fallon together, though, was like watching a fireworks show. They were beautiful, but there was always that chance that something could go wrong. One minute they fought like cats and dogs, and the next they would be wrapped up in each other’s arms like nothing had happened. It was the craziest thing, and seeing it always made him green with envy.
Because he wanted that too.
He wanted a girl who would love him for him. Not because he was an upcoming star, or because he had money. He wanted a girl to look at him and love him, not his career. Of course, he wanted her to be supportive of what he did, but to love him first. Elsa, his ex-fiancée, hadn’t. She hated that he traveled all the time, and when he left Sweden almost two years ago, she broke off the engagement, didn’t even consider coming to the States with him. It still stung a little, but the past was the past.
And now he was too busy hungering for the Brunette Beauty.
Pathetic.
Lucas shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever, you guys better be there tomorrow. Remember, Anderson, Audrey is going to be there. Fallon wants to hook you guys up.”
Phillip rolled his eyes. “You have told me that six times. I got you. I’ll check her out, but I mean if she’s anything like Fallon, I’m down. Your soon-to-be wife is an MILF.”
Laughter filled the locker room as Lucas took in a sharp breath. Tate looked over at Phillip, confused. “What the hell is a MILF?”
A large grin came over Phillip’s face as he said, “A mom I’d love to fu—”
Without any warning, Lucas had Phillip up against the wall by the collar of his team shirt, his face inches from Phillip’s. Tate stood frozen, watching. Acid dripped from Lucas’s voice as he said, “That’s my soon-to-be wife. Watch it.”
Whoa. Not cool.
Phillip put his hands up in defense, but there was no fear on his face. That was one thing about Phillip—he wasn’t afraid of anything. “Sorry, it was a joke.”
“You’re always joking,” Lucas said, dropping his hand from Phillip’s collar. “But it isn’t funny.”
With that, he walked away and out of the locker room in a huff. Phillip fixed his collar and glanced at Tate, shaking his head. “People are so fucking sensitive.”
Tate didn’t think Lucas was sensitive at all.
He would have reacted the same way.
“See you later,” Anderson said as Tate got out of his black Chevy truck.