by G. K. Brady
“No, they don’t!” Gage whisper-shouted.
“Believe what you want, Nelson. Look, I feel like our team’s on the verge of finding its groove again. It’s this close.” He pinched his finger and thumb together. “If this gets out, it’ll set us way back.”
Something barb-like stuck in Gage’s throat, and he tried to cough it out. Couldn’t. “If you’re not doping, why’s Bobby putting that shit in your bag?”
Hunter took his first sip of beer. “I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t make Grims stop, and I wasn’t going to turn him in. I figured out Bobby was his source, so I confronted him.”
“Doesn’t look like it worked.”
“No,” Hunter growled. “Instead, that little prick’s trying to set me up.”
“This doesn’t fly. Why would he do that? He’d be slitting his own throat.”
Hunter gave him a look that communicated his dislike for Gage. “Would he? How could I prove it was him? He’s not stupid enough to give Grims the shit at the arena, so there’s no way to catch him there. By putting that shit in my bag, Bobby was firing a warning shot.”
Gage wiped his palms over his thighs. “You’re saying that’s the first time Bobby’s slipped one into your bag?”
“First time.” Hunter nodded.
“What does he gain? Even if someone turned you in, they’d test you and find out you’re clean. Unless you are, in fact, doping.”
Hunter glared at him. “I have TOS, asshole.”
Gage’s confusion must’ve shown because Hunter went on after an exasperated sigh. “Blood clots. It’s under control now. I’m not about to put shit in my body that could jack with it.”
Gage’s head involuntarily snapped backward, his mind racing, processing.
“Only management and the medical staff know,” Hunter explained. “And now you. I don’t want my teammates thinking I can’t skate, so I’d appreciate you keeping it to yourself.”
A few beats of silence passed.
“Why not get Bobby’s ass fired?” Gage said.
Hunter gave him a mirthless chuckle. “He and Travis have a bromance. He’s not going anywhere.”
“The owner’s son? That Travis?”
“Yep. Travis likes to party. Maybe Bobby hooks him up with different stuff and that’s why they’re tight. Whatever. Bobby’s shit doesn’t stink, according to Travis.”
Gage glanced around the dim bar, letting the truth sink in. Sunlight outlined a crack around an exit door. He returned his gaze to Hunter. “Why’re you telling me all this?”
Another mirthless laugh. “Believe it or not, Nelson, I trust you. You’re a Boy Scout. I haven’t told another soul about Grims.” A breath whooshed from him. “And fuck, it’s a relief to tell someone else.”
Gage sat in dazed, heartsick silence while a huge weight climbed onto his shoulders and pressed down. Hard.
Chapter 27
Wisdom Is an Elusive Pearl
Gage was reeling when he emerged from the depths of the bar. Dread swelled inside him as fragments of exchanges during the last few weeks sifted through his mind, clicking into place the more he dug through his memory banks. Grims doping explained so much. But, Jesus, he didn’t want to believe it. The thought made his chest compress like a ton of bricks was stacked on it.
Dave Grimson was his captain. His teammate. His friend. A guy he looked up to. Respected. Admired. Would follow into battle. He was also a cheater.
What the hell was Gage supposed to do?
If he turned Grimson in, the whole club would go down. He’d end up hurting countless others who’d had no part in it. Never mind the unspoken code that you never ratted out your teammates—especially your captain. But turning a blind eye was wrong too. And what about Grims himself? If Hunter’s story was true—and Gage was clinging by a frayed skate lace to the possibility it wasn’t—Dave Grimson was on a dangerous path. Turning a blind eye also meant helping Grims along that path to ruin.
They were about to leave on a big road trip. Should Gage take action now? After they got back? Not take action?
His moral compass was cast overboard, lost in the Bermuda Triangle.
His buzzing head hurt as he walked into his house. He sent Lily a text, grateful for a distraction. Ready for me to come get you and Daisy?
He’d been looking forward to tonight, though his conversation with Hunter had thrown a moldy blanket over his excitement. Time to get his head right. Daisy was staying at Ivy and Parker’s, and tomorrow would be one of those rare, precious mornings when he would wake up with Lily in his bed. His slice of sanctuary. And, God, did he need it! Not the sex—sex was the extra helping of whipped cream. What he needed was Lily singing to him, wrapping her arms around him, keeping him grounded while he fought to haul his compass from its mucky depths.
His knee bounced as he leaned against the counter. Then came her reply: Can you give me 60 or 90 mins? Derek’s here talking about a possible gig.
Gage felt as though he’d been slapped with a mackerel. Derek was there? Derek wasn’t supposed to be there. He didn’t even have Vi this week!
“Fucking Derek!” Hobbes trained a wary gold eye on him.
She can sing if she wants to.
Unbidden, the words replayed to the tune of “Safety Dance” in his head. “Yeah, she can sing. Even if dozens of guys are eye-fucking her,” he groused.
His mind ran through what she might wear onstage. She’d bowled him over in her red dress when he’d first laid eyes on her, but she’d since shown him some of her other stage outfits, so he knew racier stuff lived in her closet, though she claimed she’d retired those getups. She only kept them as a remembrance of her days in the band. With Jack.
Shit! This day was just getting better and better.
He pulled in a few cleansing breaths, determined to calm down the thoughts jostling in his head like kids waiting for a turn at the water slide on a hot summer day.
With time to cool his heels, he dialed Grandma—and struck gold.
“Oh my goodness, Gage! I’ve missed you so much! I want to see your face. Do you do FaceTime?”
Shocked she even knew the term, he let out a laugh. “I’ve missed you too, Grandma. More than you know. Yeah, I do FaceTime. Do you?”
“Oscar knows these things. He says he’ll set it up for me. You just hang on, son.”
Thanks to awesome Oscar, Gage was soon FaceTiming with his grandmother. His real grandmother. Not the shell, not the impostor, but her living, breathing essence. Her eyes were bright, and she seemed eager to hear it all, as if she knew she had this one window of lucidity and she wanted to drink it all in before the window slammed shut.
So they talked, her face at times hovering so close she looked as though she were a contorted reflection in a house of mirrors, making him laugh the way only she could.
She knocked Gage for a loop when she said, “So you’re in a slump lately, but these things have their ups and downs. What I really want to hear about is your new girl.”
“My new girl?” Who’d told her about Lily? He hadn’t told anyone except the first conversation he’d had with Sarah. Ah. Grandma was fishing, the sly fox. “You mean Jessica?”
She flapped her hand in front of the screen. “No, I’m not talking about the Phelan girl! She’s not for you, Gage.”
Funny. Grandma was the only one of his family who thought so.
“I really don’t have a girl, Grandma.”
“What!” she exclaimed loudly. “A handsome boy like you? Where have you been living? Under a rock?”
“No, Grandma. Under a puck.”
She guffawed, then gave him a smug look. “Your sister tells me you really like this one, and that she has a little girl of her own.”
Shit, Sarah! What happened to the bro code? “Well, it’s not … We’re not … I like her, but it’s not serious …” Why did he feel like a heel saying so?
“What a boatload of crap! She has you stammering, Gage Nelson, so it’s obviously mor
e than you’re letting on. And good for you! Oh, your mother will be fit to be tied if you pick someone besides Jessica, but you listen to me, young man.”
“Yes, Grandma.” He smirked, loving her uppity tone. He’d missed it.
“Go grab yourself another gear on the stick shift of life.”
His puzzlement, and amusement, might have shown all over his face, but nothing slowed her roll. “You make a decision in the moment based on what you know or think you know, but you live with the outcome forever. And life is too short. Don’t let Nola bully you or pick for you. You pick your best life, and pick someone who loves you for who you are inside, not for what you do or for what your friends and family think. You have to build your life with her, no one else. So listen to your heart and find that girl you’re crazy about, and make sure she takes good care of you because you deserve nothing less.”
She laughed a heartfelt, belly-rumbling laugh that sent warmth spiraling through him, that took him back to being a boy being scolded and loved by her at the same time.
“Are you giving me another pearl, Grandma?” A precious Grandma pearl of wisdom. “I think I have enough to string a whole necklace now.”
It struck him that she could help him with his Grims dilemma, and he grew hopeful. But suddenly, she seemed confused and began looking around as if she had no idea where she was.
“Grandma?” His voice broke as he tried to haul her back to him.
Now Oscar’s face was on the screen. “I think your grandma’s tired from all the excitement, Gage, so you might want to say good-bye for now.”
Oscar moved away, and Grandma was back. Hands he assumed were Oscar’s rested on her shoulders, seeming to steady her, and once again Gage was grateful the man was there.
“Oscar says I should go now. Gage?” Her voice sounded panicky, and it twisted his heart into knots. If only he could reach her and hold on to her!
He took a calming breath. “I’m here, Grandma.”
“There you are. Before I go, I want you to know you are so very special. Have I told you lately? No, I don’t think I have.” Her voice was laced with sadness. “Anyway, you stay on that right path. Don’t deviate.”
“It isn’t always so easy.”
“You’ll make it out. And if you veer from it, I’ll leave my grave, hunt you down, and haunt you!” Her chuckle didn’t resonate; she was fading from him fast.
He kissed his hand and pressed it to the screen. “Grandma, I love you.”
She kissed her hand and pressed back. “I know, sweetheart, and I love you. You’ve always been a good boy. You make me so proud. Don’t ever stop. Don’t hold back. Live full-out.”
“Grab the next gear on the stick shift of life?”
“That’s it.” She shook her fist. “Living isn’t for wussies. No chickenshit crap now, you hear?”
“Never,” he choked out.
Chapter 28
Claiming a Stake
Derek stood in Lily’s open doorway, his hand poised on the doorknob as they exchanged good-byes. Daisy was reaching up to hug her uncle when Gage’s car glided curbside. Lily glanced at her phone. No message from him. Why was he early?
When he strode up the walkway and paused at the bottom of the stoop, she knew why.
With his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, sunglasses on, he projected California casual, but she didn’t have to look very hard to know it was an act. There was nothing casual about the testosterone pouring off of him in heady waves. She could practically smell it, hear it crackle in the air.
He wore a tight brown button-down that displayed every ripped muscle. And every ripped muscle was taut. His sleeves were cuffed at his elbows, and his flexing forearms showed off the corded veins along their surface. A neck muscle jumped. He looked as though he’d just bench-pressed a bus.
Saying Derek’s name in a rumble that reminded her of thunder, Gage gave him the curtest of man nods. Derek’s fist clenched at his side, and he wordlessly returned the same short nod. And didn’t move—except to turn his body so it blocked Gage’s way to the landing where he and Lily stood.
A glare-down ensued.
Oh my God! How soon before they ram horns? Pee all over my steps?
Lily placed herself between the two men, who both seemed to snap out of their male hormone-induced standoff and act surprised to see her there. Derek stepped back, and Lily leaned down from where she stood on the top step and gave Gage a quick peck before he could haul her in, thump his chest, and bellow, “Mine!”
“You’re early.” Her voice held a little ice, and she detected a slight flinch. Yeah, you should be sorry, you bullheaded caveman! He had no right to stake a claim. Even so, a tendril of feminine satisfaction wound itself up from her core. It was nice to be an object of desire sometimes, and Gage was good at letting her know how desirable she was. All. The. Time.
God, what was wrong with her?
Derek didn’t stick around, and once he was gone, Daisy happily chattered at Gage, who nodded patiently and acted as though he hung on her every word.
“Sweetheart,” Lily said to her daughter, “we’re leaving for Aunt Ivy’s soon. Go find your babies and your new books, okay?”
“Yay!” Daisy cried. “Will you come help me, Mr. Cage?” She grabbed his hand.
“Sure, kiddo. Let’s go.”
After dropping Daisy at Ivy’s, Gage barely spoke.
Lily threw him a sidelong glance. “Everything okay over there in the driver’s seat?”
Sunglasses firmly in place, thumb tapping a rhythm on the steering wheel, he lobbed a gruff reply. “Yep. Just have a few things on my mind before I leave.”
“You’re gone a long time.”
“Ten days. Five critical games. Our spot in the standings will be pretty well solidified at the end of it.”
“Do you think the coaches will move you up from the third line?”
He kept his focus straight ahead. “I’m trying my damnedest to convince them.”
“Being on the third line’s really bothering you, huh?”
He slid his sunglasses down his nose and side-eyed her. “Yeah.” Icicles in his voice, so foreign, sent a warning chill through her.
Whoops, wrong question!
She straightened in her seat, fortifying herself for what, she had little idea. Paranoia was probably setting in, but she detected that it wasn’t just his game eating at him. “Going to Dillon after you get back will be a nice break for you.” Her words sounded lame even to her own ears, and he must have agreed because he let those words hang with barely a nod to acknowledge them. She abandoned the conversation, and they rode in silence the rest of the way to his house. Tonight would be their last just-them time for a while, and she wasn’t going to ruin it by prodding for answers.
As she walked inside Gage’s house, Hobbes ran to her and rubbed against her legs. Lily looked around, letting the space envelop her in a warm blanket of comfort. The guitars, the sprawling leather couch, the framed hockey memorabilia. It was all a reflection of him that she loved.
He stuck his head in the refrigerator and began pulling out ingredients.
“What are you making?” she asked.
“The Nelson specialty of the house.” He glanced up and beamed; the icicles from before had completely melted, and relief rippled through her. “I hope you like cheesecake.”
“I love cheesecake. You know how to make it?” Her voice broadcast her surprise. The man had all kinds of hidden talents.
They stood at opposite ends of the kitchen, a space of about ten feet dividing them.
“Yep. And Italian meatballs. Those are also on tonight’s menu.” He pointed a brick of cream cheese at her. “You’re in charge of the green stuff.”
A laugh bubbled in her chest. “What’s the ‘green stuff’?”
Easing, she folded her arms across her chest. Under an open fleece jacket, she wore a white tank top. She didn’t miss how his eyes traveled down to the swell along the tank’s neckline. Like a ki
d caught with his hand in the cookie jar, he snapped his gaze back to hers. “Uh, the usual stuff. Salad. Green beans. No kale smoothies.”
The air between them grew electrified. Her mind was already jumping to getting him out of his clothes. She took a few steps toward him.
“Did you know,” he said in his best professor voice, “too much kale might be bad for you? And spinach.”
“Too much of anything is bad.”
“Not true.” He waggled his eyebrows.
“Is that so, Professor?” A few more steps and she’d closed the distance.
With his back against the counter, he reached out and ran his big, warm hands up and down her arms, sending tingles skittering up her shoulders and neck. Her eyes wandered to his chest and the brown shirt molding itself to him. Chocolate-covered muscles. She pictured running her tongue over those muscles, nipping, sucking, driving him out of his mind. Watching his usually composed expression dissolve and contort with agonizing pleasure when he was in the throes was one of her favorite things about their sexy times. She loved watching him fall apart.
As if he could read each of her filthy thoughts, he kissed her forehead and set her apart from him. “Time to cook food. We’ll cook up other things later.”
“Promise?” she teased.
He swatted her butt. “Behave.”
“Or what, Professor?”
“I’ll bend you over my knee and spank your bare ass with my ruler.”
She fluttered her eyes. “Oh, Professor. You’ve given me more reason than ever to misbehave.”
He shook his head and chuckled. Soon they were cooking together while music played in the background. She was in a happy, uncomplicated place. Tab Benoit sang about southern ladies sashaying by, and she swung her hips in time.
“Yoga tomorrow afternoon, Professor?” She was prepping green beans, and he was checking the baking cheesecake.
He topped off her wine and leaned in for a kiss. “Yes, but you absolutely cannot stand in front of me.”
“Why not?”
