A Favor for a Favor

by Hunting, Helena

  His cheek tics. “You’ll be in traction by the time I’m done with you, ass clown.”

  “Pretty sure it’s gonna be the other way around.” I’m so pissed off right now there’s a haze of red clouding my vision. I recognize, somewhere in the back of my head, that my decision-making skills are highly compromised by the unusual quantity of alcohol I’ve consumed tonight, Rook’s asinine accusations, and the fact that Stevie is dodging me.

  But I’m sick of bowing for everyone else, of backing down and walking on eggshells. I’ve followed every rule, toed every fucking line, and I’m done worrying about everyone else and what they want and need.

  Rook tips his chin toward the exit. “Let’s take this somewhere without eyes.”

  I clench and release my fists, mirroring his grin. “Sounds good to me.”

  We leave the bar, with King and a couple of other guys trailing behind us. I’m pretty sure we have the same idea: find a quiet dark alley to kick each other’s asses in. We end up by the garbage dumpsters. It’s warm here, and the smell of rancid food makes us gag.

  “Guys, this is a really bad idea,” King says before I let the door slam closed in his face.

  He wrenches it open. His expression is one I haven’t seen before as he steps out into the alley. His nose wrinkles at the putrid smell, but he crosses his arms and leans against the closed steel door. “I’m here to mediate.”

  Rook and I both look at him, then focus on each other.

  “I told you to keep your hands off my goddamn sister, and you didn’t listen,” Rook snarls and then settles into what seems like a fighting stance.

  “I don’t take my orders from you.”

  “Alex told you to keep it professional.”

  “It was supposed to be until I was on the ice again, which I am.”

  “So you thought you’d string her along and use her like one of your stick-chasing bunnies?” He takes a swing at me, which I don’t expect. It’s cheap and dirty, an uppercut that makes my head snap back and stars explode behind my eyes.

  I trip over some garbage and fall on my ass. He takes advantage of my disoriented state and lands on top of me. For half a second I can fully appreciate the lengths he’ll go to in order to protect his sister and how much she must mean to him.

  “I’m in love with her, you stupid fuck!” I shout. And I’m not just saying it for the shock-and-awe factor. I’ve been a miserable asshole the last few days without her, worse than usual even. I feel like a tree that’s been ripped out by the roots, robbed of vital nourishment.

  Rook pauses with his fist raised in the air, his expression shifting to confusion. I use his momentary distraction to my advantage and flip us over so he’s on his back on the ground instead of me. My jaw already aches. If he’s broken something, I’ll be so pissed.

  “I love her, and you’re the reason she isn’t talking to me!”

  King pulls me off him.

  Rook scrambles back to his feet. “You’re the one with a mile-long list of puck-bunny pictures all over social media.”

  “Those are my brother’s conquests, not mine. When have you ever seen me pick up a bunny? Fucking never.”

  “Bullshit.” Rook spits, but I can see him filtering through preseason, trying to come up with a time when I’ve chatted up a bunny, let alone taken one home with me. I’m as polite as I possibly can be to fans, considering I’m a dick on the best of days.

  “You know what’s bullshit? The fact that your goddamn puck-bunny history is the reason Stevie is freaking out right now. You’re the one who’s screwing this up for me.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  I should probably stop while I’m ahead here, but I can’t seem to keep my mouth from running. It’s been days, and I’m done with Stevie avoiding me and Rook being pissed off at me when he’s the damn problem. “She lives in your fucking shadow.”

  His brow furrows. “No, she doesn’t.”

  “Yes. She does. She avoids the attention because she’s terrified that all people are going to see is Rook Bowman’s baby sister.” I hold my arms wide, giving him free rein to go ahead and try to hit me again. “You have no idea how hard it is for her. She thinks that no matter what she does, her identity is always going to be tied up in you, and she thinks if she’s my girlfriend, it’s going to be the same damn thing.”

  Rook seems to deflate. He runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “You let that video go up and did nothing about it.”

  “What the hell was I supposed to do? She shut down on me and won’t talk to me; my team thinks I’m an asshole; you’re pissed, which the entire team knows, so it’s been great for team morale; and Alex took her off my PT because he doesn’t like the optics.” We’re both heaving, me rubbing my jaw and him rubbing his ribs.

  “I didn’t tell him to do that.”

  “You didn’t have to. I’m the cause of the dissension, as far as he’s concerned. Which means I’m messing up the team. I might be an asshole, but I care about this team.” I pace, rubbing the back of my neck. Even with everyone pissed at me, I’ve still managed to make a valuable contribution. “This entire time I’ve been so patient. I didn’t push her for anything. I kept it light. She rehabbed me and we hung out. I focused on getting better and gave her time to get over that stupid dickbag who played with her head. And that was your fault, too, by the way.”

  “How the hell is that my fault?”

  “She just wants a brother. She doesn’t need you to try to replace your dad. She wanted you to think she was okay, so she found a shield, and he worked until he didn’t.”

  “What?” His brow furrows even more, his confusion shifting to disquiet. “How do you know this?”

  “Because she told me. Because while you’ve been busy with your life and your career and being so sure I was out to screw her over, I’ve been listening. And waiting for her to be okay enough for me to tell her how I damn well feel about her.”

  “You made Stevie look like a puck bunny,” he argues.

  “There are pictures of you fucking around with two mostly naked women in a goddamn hot tub still floating around on the internet!” I jab my chest with a finger. “All I did was kiss her.”

  “That looked like a hell of a lot more than a kiss, and you damn well know it.”

  Okay. He’s got me there. “It would’ve been better if it hadn’t happened in a public place, and if someone hadn’t posted it for the entire hockey-watching nation to speculate over, but in my defense I hadn’t seen her in almost a week. Emotions were running high.” I use the same line she gave me: her excuse for letting it go as far as it did. Which was bullshit. The only reason it didn’t happen sooner was because my dick wouldn’t work effectively and I was waiting for her to be over the douche ex. Also, Alex’s orders figured in at least a little.

  He crosses his arm, lip still twitching. “She told me she kissed you, not the other way around.”

  “She figured you’d overreact, and she didn’t want you to try to kill me. Seems like she was right about that.”

  He rolls his eyes, and then they slide back to me, narrowing. “You were there.” It’s not a question, and his voice is suddenly low.

  I realize I’ve stepped in the biggest pile of dog shit ever, because I admitted, accidentally, that I was at Stevie’s the morning after the video went viral. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to put two and two together.

  He’s in my personal space between one blink and the next, gripping my shirt. He’s maybe an inch or two shorter than me but just as broad. If I have to guess, I’d say it’d be a pretty even fight, or at least it would’ve been until a few seconds ago. “Did you sleep with my sister?”

  I raise one hand in surrender and grip the wrist of the hand currently fisting my collar. His hold is tight and close to my throat. Also, he looks about ready to commit murder. “Rook, listen.”

  “Answer the damn question, Winslow.”

  I shake my head. “I can’t.”

  �
��Bullshit! Answer the damn question.”

  “It’s not my place to tell you that. You’ll have to talk to Stevie if you want that information.”

  “You son of a bitch.” He spins us around and shoves me against the brick wall.

  “Rook, man, take it easy,” Kingston says.

  I’d forgotten he was here.

  Rook barely spares him a glance. “Don’t interfere, King. I like you, but you get in the way, and I’ll take you down too.” He bars his forearm across my throat.

  “Calm down, Rook,” I grind out.

  “Don’t tell me to calm down. She’s my sister.”

  “And I’m in love with her.”

  He exhales angrily, like a bull getting ready to charge. “If the roles were reversed, would you kick your teammate’s ass for putting his hands on your sister?”

  “I don’t have a sister.”

  “Pretend you do.”

  I sigh. “I can’t. All I have is a brother who name-drops me to bag women.”

  “King, if Winslow slept with your sister, would you punch him out?”

  Kingston’s eyes dart around like he’s looking for someone else with his name to answer. “Uhhh . . .”

  “Be honest,” Rook snaps.

  “I don’t use violence to solve my problems,” Kingston replies.

  Rook twists his head to look at him with one eyebrow raised.

  Kingston sighs. “I would probably be inclined to punch him.”

  “Seriously, King?”

  “Sorry.” He shrugs. “It’s a brotherly duty. Plus, there’s the video . . .”

  “You suck, man. Don’t think I won’t remember this when you have woman problems down the line.”

  “I don’t plan to sleep with any of my teammates’ sisters, so I should be fine.” I swear Kingston is smirking. Asshole.

  “I get four shots.” Rook unbars my throat and takes a step back, cracking his knuckles with a sinister smile.

  “Two, and no face and no groin.”

  “No way. I deserve at least one face shot.”

  “You already got in a face shot.”

  He jumps around like a boxer and shakes out his hands. “That was before I knew you slept with my sister.”

  “Three shots, all body. No groin or head shots. We don’t want evidence anyone can see or a concussion,” Kingston interjects.

  “Whose side are you on?” I ask.

  “I’m not on a side. This is about brotherly justice, and I’m hoping after this you two will finally put the antagonism to rest. We’re all pretty damn tired of it, so let’s get this done so we can all move on.” Kingston makes a get-on-with-it motion.

  Rook nods and hops around a bunch more, making a show of clenching and releasing his fists.

  “Just take the shot—”

  He slams me with an uppercut to the diaphragm, and I stumble back into the wall, heaving.

  “That was for the video.” He beckons me forward again.

  I suck in a few deep breaths, straighten—it hurts a lot—and step away from the wall, bracing for the next shot. He fakes me out a second time and lands a hook to my side. I fall on a bag of garbage, which explodes under me. Thankfully, it seems to be a bunch of paper and plastic.

  “You all right, Ship?” Kingston asks.

  “Fine. Gimme a sec.”

  Just as I get back on my feet and Rook returns to his boxer stance, the door slams open, sending Kingston stumbling forward. “What in the ever-loving hell is going on here?” Coach Waters steps out in the alleyway, face contorting with a grimace as he takes in the three of us and the odor registers.

  I try to cop a natural lean against a dumpster because my side is killing me. Also, I might vomit soon, thanks to the pain and the putrid smell out here. Meanwhile Rook shoves his hands in his pockets.

  “Just having a conversation, Alex,” Rook says. It would be somewhat believable if we both weren’t breathing heavily. We’re also sweaty.

  Alex looks to Kingston.

  He clasps his hands in front of him. “They’re resolving their differences, and I’m mediating to ensure it doesn’t get out of hand.”

  “So you’re refereeing?”

  “No, sir, just mediating a discussion as an impartial observer who would like to see my teammates get along so we can play the best hockey possible.”

  “You could probably sell a space heater to someone living in a damn desert,” Alex grumbles. He turns to us and sighs. “You two get it all out?”

  “Just about, yeah.” Rook nods.

  “Yup,” I add.

  “Get your asses up to your rooms. We’ve got an early morning.” Alex holds the door open and ushers us all inside. Kingston leads the way and we follow, with Alex behind us, like a kindergarten teacher making sure his kids don’t get out of line. “Jesus, you two smell like you were rolling around in the dumpster,” he gripes.

  He chaperones us to the elevator, shaking his head as we wait for the doors to open. “You good to get these two upstairs without them murdering each other on the way there?” he asks Kingston.

  “Yes, sir. I’ll make sure they keep their hands to themselves.”

  The three of us step inside, and I think Kingston instantly regrets it because Rook and I stink like trash. He jabs the button for our floor, and the doors slide closed.

  “I have one hit left.” Rook gets back into his fighting stance.

  I hold my arms wide. “Have at it.”

  He goes for the spleen this time, and I stumble back, grabbing hold of the handrail so I don’t go down. He can really throw a punch. I cough a few times. “You gonna stand in my way with Stevie?”

  “Not if you’re what she wants.” The doors slide open at his floor, and he takes a step out into the hall, holding his hand over the sensor. “But if you break her heart, I’m going to break you.”

  “I’d let you.”

  “Glad we’re finally on the same page.”

  CHAPTER 26

  DAD-BRO

  Stevie

  It’s the day the team is scheduled to come home, and I’m up ridiculously early. I’ve been sleeping like crap since the whole thing with Bishop went down. It got worse after he sent me a We need to talk message a few days ago. In my experience, a message like that has never been attached to a positive conversation.

  I wander around my apartment for a good half hour before I get antsy and decide I need to do something active to help manage my anxiety. I know the team is supposed to be home early this afternoon, but there are a lot of hours between now and then, and I don’t think I can handle hanging around my apartment, waiting for him.

  I want to message Bishop, but it’s been three days of silence from me since he sent his text, so messaging seems pretty anticlimactic at this point. Also, if I send one now, then I’m going to either check every four seconds to see if he’s replied or continue sending messages until he responds, which will make me look desperate. Even if this is accurate, I don’t think it’s a good strategy.

  I realize I’ve fucked up. Does it suck that there’s a viral video of me and Bishop making out? Yup. But that wasn’t his fault, and I’ve spent a week avoiding him instead of dealing with the fallout, because I’m scared. Avoidance seems to be my go-to tactic for handling uncomfortable situations. I need to grow up. Hindsight is such a bitch.

  Fortunately, Pattie and Jules have already invited me over for brunch today. It’s meant as a distraction from Bishop’s impending return. It’s still way early for me to go over there, so I take the bus to the clinic, intending to burn off some anxiety. I change into my bathing suit and head to the pool. It doesn’t matter what kind of physical activity I engage in these days; it all reminds me of Bishop.

  I flip over and start a steady back crawl. When I reach the end of the pool, I somersault underwater and change to a front crawl. After a few laps I come up for air and shriek when I find a pair of hairy-toed feet at the edge of the pool.

  “Jesus Christ, Joey! What the hell are you d
oing, other than being a creepy-ass bastard?”

  He ignores the insult and gives me a look I can’t quite decipher. “How are you, Stevie?”

  “I was fine until you scared the crap out of me with your hobbit toes.” Joey’s feet have always freaked me out. I swim over to the ladder and pull myself out of the water. I left my towel in the changing room, so I have nothing to wrap around my body apart from my arms, which don’t cover much. Thankfully, I’m wearing a full-coverage bathing suit that mashes my boobs down and is purely functional, unlike the bathing suits I wore when Bishop and I had our water-therapy sessions.

  I wish I could stop thinking about him.

  “Really? You’re not upset?”

  “About?” I shake my head to get the water out of my ear.

  “Oh shit. You haven’t seen it yet, have you?” He feigns surprise.

  I sigh. I have no interest in falling into another trap set by my douche ex. “Why can’t you leave me alone, Joey?”

  “Look, Stevie, I know I can’t win you back. I get it, but I don’t want you to set yourself up to get hurt again. I thought you should be prepared.”

  “Prepared for what?” I try to step around him, but he blocks my way and holds his phone up in front of my face. I grab it from him, ready to toss it in the pool. At least until I see what’s on the screen.

  Bishop with a petite brunette tucked in to his side. It could be nothing. But it could be something too. Especially since he’s not angrily glaring at the camera. If it is something, I have no one to blame but myself, since I’m the one who said sleeping together was a mistake. I’m such an idiot.

  “Looks like I really know how to pick ’em, huh?” I slap the phone against Joey’s chest.

  When I try to walk away, he grips my wrist. “I’m sorry, Stevie. I just thought you should know.”

  “Well, I know, so job well done. Can you let me go now?”

  “I could take you out for coffee if you want to talk about it? I messed things up with you and me. I might not be able to fix it, but I could be a friend.”

  I close my eyes and exhale slowly, searching for an ounce of composure. “You betrayed me and you tried to make it my fault.”