Mr broody, p.1
Mr. Broody, page 1
Mr. Broody
Piper Rayne
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
© 2024 by Piper Rayne®
Piper Rayne® registered in U.S. Patent and Trademark Office.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
Cover Design and Illustrator: Buerosued
1st Line Editor: Joy Editing
2nd Line Editor: My Brother’s Editor
Proofreader: My Brother’s Editor
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About Mr. Broody
I’ve loved Henry Hensley since I was seven years old. We’ve gone from best friends to lovers to nothing.
To most people, he’s the Chicago Falcons starting right winger and hot single dad, but to me, he’s my first boyfriend, my first kiss, my first love.
Eight years ago, that all changed when our lives took us in two different directions. Our break-up almost broke me, so I kept my distance until our hometown called me back to where our story began.
I promised myself a quick visit to help my family out, and then I’d leave town before he even knew I was back, which should have been easy. He’s way too busy being a professional hockey player and raising his son to ever find out.
Of course, I’m only in town for a week before I run into him, and one thing is clear from our brief encounter—Henry wants to hash out our past, whereas I’d rather forget it.
But my plan really goes up in flames when I take a temporary substitute teaching job, and on day one, his son walks into my classroom. Boom.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Epilogue
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About Piper & Rayne
One
Jade
“Here you go,” Joel, my Uber driver, says, pulling along the curb.
I glance out the window at the bar called Peeper’s Alley, but quickly my vision diverts to a giant cardboard sign on the security gate on the side of the building. “The Nest” is written in girly script with a black marker, and a bunch of notes are scattered around it.
You’ve got to be kidding me. How convenient that the bar just happens to be on the bottom of the four-story building where Henry lives. Someone has set me up, and I’m pretty sure I know who the responsible party is.
“If you see any Falcons in there, tell them to get their asses to bed,” Joel says.
Two things I learned about Joel on the ride from my childhood home to this north side bar—he loves the city of Chicago and their hockey team, the Falcons. That, and he doesn’t think the Falcons get enough love from Chicago fans and knows in his gut that the Cup is theirs to win this year. It will really piss him off when all the bandwagoners start wearing Falcons jerseys around the city. I already know he’s miffed that their center, Rowan Landry, has a serious girlfriend, and according to Joel, that’s never a good thing.
What Joel doesn’t know is that I love the Falcons too, but I haven’t watched one of their games in years. Primarily because my ex plays right wing for them, and it’s too painful to see him.
“Thanks.” I climb out of the Uber sedan, and my gaze shifts left once more. Henry could be steps away from me, up in his condo with his son, clueless that we’re sharing space in the same city.
I really shouldn’t be here. I don’t belong here, but when Chelsea, Aubrie’s mom, asked me to come to her birthday celebration, I felt bad saying no since I’ve missed the last eight. She’s worried Aubrie will go crazy on her twenty-first and wants me to make sure nothing bad happens to her. Chelsea has always been overprotective of her only child. Mom gave me her best guilt trip look, and here I am. I really should’ve asked for more details before I agreed.
Everything inside me says to turn around and flag down Joel before he picks up another passenger, but eventually, I’ll have to rip off the bandage no matter how many layers of skin the adhesive takes along with it.
I square my shoulders. I can do this. I mean, he has a six-year-old son who is surely already in bed. And he’s not the type who would leave his child sleeping in the condo and come down to the bar to drink.
The minute I step inside, I notice this isn’t the type of bar I thought the Falcons would hang around. The music isn’t loud, but classic rock plays as background noise over the crowd. People are huddled around high-top tables, laughing with one another, and there’s a row of stools along the bar filled with older gentlemen who have eyes on the televisions above their heads.
The walls are covered in Falcons paraphernalia, and my gut twists when I see Henry’s jersey hanging there. It’s framed with his familiar scribbled signature next to his last name stitched on the back.
What am I doing? This is the worst idea ever. Then I remember my twenty-first birthday, and yeah, I kind of understand Chelsea’s concern.
“Jade!”
I glance around the room, finding Aubrie raising her hand in the back corner, sitting at a table full of girls. No Henry, thank goodness. I smile and weave through the packed tables, and she wraps her arms around me the second I reach her.
“I’ve missed you.” Aubrie is one of those tight huggers. Like squeeze-the-breath-out-of-you huggers.
“Missed you too,” I say, patting her back and hoping she ends the hug. But she sways us right and left instead of releasing me. “Happy birthday.”
She lets me go, and I try to find my footing, but she’s already moved on to introducing me to her friends. “This is Jade. Our moms are best friends. She doesn’t live in Chicago anymore though. She’s been off traveling the world.” She glances at me. “I guess our dads are friends too, huh?”
“Stepdad, but yeah.” I’m not sure why I bothered to clarify. It doesn’t really matter. But technically my dad lives in Los Angeles, and my stepdad is her dad’s best friend. It feels wrong not to mention that Reed is my stepdad even though he had a huge hand in raising me.
She introduces me to her friends, and I slide a chair out from the table, joining them. They’re so young. Not that I’m a senior citizen or anything with my quick approach to thirty, but I forgot what it’s like to feel as though time is infinite and your exciting new life is on the horizon, brimming with possibilities.
A waitress comes by and places a seltzer in front of me, walking away. I do love my seltzers, but I’m gonna need something a tad more potent to get through tonight.
“Excuse me,” I call.
“Watch it. She’s not friendly,” one of the girls says.
The older red-haired woman stops but doesn’t spin back around at first. Instead, she purposely lets me know I’m putting her out by slowly circling back, huffing, and staring at me with exhaustion lining her expression. “Yes?”
“I’m sorry, but can I get a whiskey instead? Neat.”
“Go, Jade. We should all get one.” Aubrie’s gaze bounces around the table to her friends, who each raise their girly drinks to their mouths.
There’s nothing wrong with seltzers, and most girls’ nights out, I’d choose the same drinks they’re having. But my ex is probably relaxing on his couch a floor or two above me, his large, hot body sprawled out watching the sports channel. And he’s not just any ex. He’s THE EX. So, whiskey it is.
“Really?” The woman’s gaze coasts down my body and back up. “Come on over to the bar then.” She turns around.
I crinkle my eyes at Aubrie. What kind of place is this?
“Do you all want one?” I look around the group, but no one takes me up on my offer. Even Aubrie second-guesses her impromptu decision and shakes her head. “Okay, I’ll be right bac k.”
I head to the bar and squeeze between two men with swollen beer bellies. Neither gives me a second glance. I like this place. If I didn’t have to keep seeing Falcons memorabilia here, I’d like it even more.
“Falcons fans, huh?” I ask the guy to my right.
He groans.
The red-haired woman, who I guess is also the bartender, waves him off. “We’re all the Chicago teams’ fans.” She points at a small wall that has Chicago Grizzlies and Chicago Colts stuff. It’s not as prevalent as the hockey stuff though. “Are you a Falcons fan?”
The woman pours my whiskey, not bothering to ask me if there’s a brand I prefer. I thought that was why she asked me to come to the bar. Guess not.
“Yeah.” I shrug.
“Well, if you’re here to get with one of them, you might as well leave.” She slides the glass in front of me, and I hand her a twenty. “I love that you’re not one of the seltzer girls, but I know you and your friends are just here hoping to score with one of them tonight.”
I look to my right then left. Even behind me. What is she talking about? I should tell her I’ve already bedded one. Not recently, and not while he played for the Falcons. Rather when he was just a boy who took my virginity in my basement while my mom was three levels up.
“Rubes is protective of the boys,” the grunter next to me says.
“Oh, well, you don’t have to worry about me,” I say, waiting for my change.
She tosses my change on the bar top and moves down the bar, refilling beers, disregarding what I said.
“I’ve never felt so judged so quickly.” I pocket some of my change and leave her tip on the bar.
The guy next to me chuckles. “That’s Ruby for ya. No one gets in that back room without her permission.” He nods toward a closed door at the back of the bar, indicating that’s where the Falcons hang out.
“Well, I’m not interested in getting back there. Although her challenge does make me want to prove her wrong.” I raise my eyebrows and head back to Aubrie’s table.
“Rubes, you better watch that one. She’s feisty,” the guy at the bar says loudly enough for me to hear him.
I don’t bother looking back to see her reaction.
I need to forget the fact that Henry could be behind those doors and remind myself that I don’t want to see him. Not after the way he left the last time we were together with absolutely no explanation. He was cruel and not at all like the Henry I fell in love with when we were kids.
So, I’ll drink my whiskey and hopefully get Aubrie to move the party on to another bar.
Two
Henry
“Bull’s-eye!” Tweetie raises his hands and circles around the room.
“It’s only us, dipshit.” I aim my dart toward the board, hoping to keep my winning streak against him intact.
“I need some witnesses. I’m gonna go grab some girls.”
We’re in the back room of Peeper’s Alley, and no one is allowed in here unless they’re brought in by one of us. Ruby, the owner, makes certain and is usually the one who shoos women out of the bar if they’re looking to bother us. But Tweetie makes her job difficult.
“I don’t want to be your wingman tonight.” I throw my first dart and hit a triple twenty. My second a double sixteen, and my third an eighteen.
“Fuck, get laid once in a while, and maybe I could fucking beat you.” Tweetie steps up for his turn as I mark my score on the board.
“Sorry, I don’t want my dick to fall off like some people.” I grab my beer from the nearby table and bring it to my lips.
I’m not sure if it’s because my teammate Rowan recently fell in love with another teammate’s sister or what, but Jade’s been on my mind a lot lately. I’ve stalked her social media, but she hasn’t posted in a few weeks.
I gave up a long time ago asking her mom how she’s doing. Her mom is married to Reed, who was my Big Brother when I was younger. We’re still close, and they watch my son, Bodhi, for me when I’m in a real bind. Sadly, they’re the only family I have besides my grandparents.
Tweetie shoots his three darts and marks on the board that he got a fifteen and a double sixteen. “Okay, just shoot it straight.” He grabs the beer across from mine. “Who was she?”
“Yeah, I’m not going there with you.” Tweetie doesn’t take much seriously when it comes to women, and I’m not in the mood for him to razz me continuously about how I need to put myself out there more.
He blows out a breath, takes a hefty gulp of his beer, and rests his gaze on me. “I get it, okay? Once upon a time there was a girl in my life… so you can talk to me about it.”
I figured there was. I’ve heard the rumors that there was a woman at some point who hurt Tweetie, and that’s when he hopped on the “I don’t want a commitment” train that doesn’t show signs of stopping anytime soon.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
He arches an eyebrow incredulously, and I realize he’s right, I want it off my chest. I kind of told Rowan a bit about Jade, but it didn’t help. I hate the way she can just sneak in and overtake my thoughts without warning.
“She was just a girl. I loved her, but this life isn’t for her.”
He scoffs. “The life of being with a professional hockey player, you mean? Yeah, sounds awful.”
I shrug. “She wasn’t meant to be confined, tied to one place.”
“Ah, I get it. So does this girl have a name?”
I never tell people her name because it brings up all this shit I don’t want to talk about—or worse, feel. Somehow, saying her name always forces a stream of memories of times when her name left my lips. The joking when I’d ask if she was ticklish, the times I’d see her across campus and shout for her to stop and wait for me. Most of all, the times I said it in a hushed whisper as I slid into her. I still miss her every day, and I still don’t know when the pain will go away. When I’ll stop feeling this void in my chest at her absence.
“Come on. First name. It’s not like I’m gonna look her up.”
Tweetie always presses things, but we’ve really developed a friendship since we started playing together. Everyone thinks he’s just a jokester, but the way he was with Rowan and Conor last year regarding the whole Kyleigh situation says how much he cares about us and the team. I should give him a chance.
“Her name is Jade.” I down the rest of my beer. It’s kind of freeing to speak her name to someone who doesn’t give me a pitying look. The people who knew us as a couple. The people who knew how close we were. The people who thought we were destined to end up together.
“How long?”
Maybe it’s crazy that I understand his cryptic question, but it only confirms again that Tweetie was hurt by someone at some point.
“We were together until the end of college, but it’s been three years since I last… saw her.” My admission pierces me like the flick of a switchblade. It feels almost surreal that it’s been three years since we’ve talked when she was my biggest confidant for the majority of my life. “You?”
He throws his last dart, and it flies to the right, hitting the cork outside of the dartboard. “Sorry, this is about you, not me.” He comes back over and finishes off his beer. “Is it a never again situation?”
