Back in Play

by Lynda Aicher

  Scott leaned right in until his face was inches from his teammates. “This damn game, as you put it, is my life. So fuck you and your fucking accusations. I did what I had to do to keep playing. Not once did it affect my game or the team. So you can take your fucking implied betrayal and shove it up your fucking ass.”

  He thrust up from the table, so pissed his couldn’t see straight. A damn game. He’d expect that from Rachel, but coming from Grenick, it was a betrayal to him. It only proved that he should’ve kept his mouth shut. Especially if Grenick’s reaction was an indication of how unsupportive he’d be if Scott got back on the team.

  “Hey.” Hauke launched up and snagged Scott’s arm as he stormed past. “Stop.” Scott tried to shake him off, but the man held firm. Hauke came closer. “You’re drawing attention.”

  Like he gave a fuck. A quick scan of the room showed almost everyone eyeing them. Him. The Glaciers’ captain. Or used to be. Still wanted to be.

  Shit. What was he doing? This wasn’t him. He didn’t respond to stress with anger. Or at least he never had before.

  “Come on.” Hauke swung another chair around and urged Scott to sit. He complied, spine stiff until his butt hit the wood and he caught Rylie’s stunned expression. He seemed to turn into mush then as he slumped back, scrubbing his face.

  What’s my deal?

  Rylie cleared his throat. Hauke squeezed his shoulder. Grenick remained a silent, looming menace on his other side.

  And there was the goddamned craving whispering in his ear. I can make it better. None of this will matter. Everything’s easier with me. All true and false. Alluring and so seductive he wanted to scream.

  “Was rehab through the league?” Rylie asked. The national organization had a substance abuse program that supported players. One that’d been overhauled after Gardner’s failed admittance.

  “No,” he said, dropping his hands to his lap, which gave him something to stare at. “It was a private facility.” He held each of their gazes before he continued. “It was anonymous. Only two people know outside of you three.” He didn’t feel the need to press his meaning further.

  “It worked then?” Grenick asked. His posture had sagged too. Shoulders rolling forward, chin propped up by his clasped hands. It matched the quieter flow of his voice. “The program. You’re clean now?”

  “Yes.” He could answer that with pride and a clear conscience.

  “For how long?”

  “What? Have I been clean?”

  “Out of the program?”

  Scott took a deep breath and savored the fill of his lungs before he let it go. “A week.” It sounded so short and felt way longer. The entire last week with Rachel was almost a dream now. A distant reality that taunted him with how perfect it’d been.

  Grenick was shaking his head as he pressed his forehead into his palms, eyes squeezed tight. The rough edge to his voice shredded Scott’s clear conscience that he’d been so proud of moments ago. “I can’t do it again.” Grenick’s breath hitched. “I can’t stand back and watch another friend bury himself.” He lifted his head to plead with Scott, pain ripe and open in his eyes. “For any reason. There is more to life than hockey. More that you can do than skate up and down a sheet of ice. A trophy or ring or title isn’t worth your life.” He ground his teeth, jaw drawing sharp as he looked away and sucked in a long breath through his nose.

  Scott was too stunned to react. Too beaten down to get mad. Again, Grenick was repeating Rachel’s words, only in a more direct fashion that hit home with a resounding bang and knocked down every argument he’d clung to so strongly.

  “You’re too good for that,” Grenick finally choked out. “I understand that you feel the need to try. But you should know that I will be all over your ass if you do.” His voice hardened with his resolve. “I won’t give a shit about your privacy. I will search your bag. Your house. That fucking mint tin that’s suspiciously absent now. I will be so far up your ass, you’ll think I live there and I won’t give a shit. Because you—” he stabbed a finger in Scott’s chest, “—are more important to me than a game.”

  The chair scraped across the wooden floor when he jerked to a stand. He tossed some money on the table and strode from the building without another word.

  Scott was once again too stunned to do anything but sit there. The first thing that managed to cross his brain was I’m not an addict who needs to be watched. That was quickly followed by I am an addict. He would be one for the rest of his life. He repeated that to himself until it sank in. Right next to the craving that tickled over his neck, laughing at him.

  “Wow,” Rylie finally said into the silence as he stared after Grenick. “I’ve never seen him like that.”

  Hauke snorted out a short laugh. “Me neither.”

  “I had no idea he had that much backbone.”

  Scott shot up at that, glare leveling on Rylie. “That man has more passion and the biggest fucking heart, and I will not let you scorn that.”

  “Whoa, dude.” Ryle sat back, palms raised. “There was no scorning or offense meant. Seriously.” He slowly lowered his hands, eyeing Scott the whole time. “It’s just a side he hides pretty damn well.”

  Hauke gave another dry laugh, glancing at Scott, gaze heavy. “I guess we all hide something.”

  So fucking true.

  Rylie’s quick humph confirmed his agreement with Hauke’s statement.

  Scott sat back, scrubbing his face again, even though it never helped to clear his mind. “Sorry.” He slowly wrapped his head around everything Grenick had said, an unwanted understanding dawning.

  If Rachel had said that last bit, about searching his stuff or invading his privacy, he would’ve been pissed. Felt violated. Did Grenick say what she’d withheld? Had she stayed in Atlanta—left him—over the same fears his friend just shoved so blatantly in his face?

  “And to think I was ecstatic to get my new contract,” Rylie grumbled. “I didn’t fucking know it’d be taking away Scott’s.”

  “And you should be happy,” Hauke quickly said. “You earned it. This—” he waved a hand at Scott, “—is just a part of the job. We all deal with it at some point.”

  “My contract has nothing to do with yours,” Scott added. He didn’t need Rylie feeling guilty over the deal he’d earned.

  Rylie rubbed his hip, the one he’d dislocated at the end of last season. “I hope this doesn’t fuck me up long term.” He frowned at Scott.

  “You’re still young,” Hauke said. “Sit out games when it hurts too much. Don’t tough it out until things get really bad. And—” he stared at Scott, “—don’t get sucked into the cycle of temporary fixes.”

  Could he feel any lower? He seriously doubted it. “It didn’t start out that way.”

  “And how long did it take to get that way?”

  And there was a solid captain voice. Concern with just a touch of challenge without being assholeish. He found himself smiling at Hauke, despite the drilling question. The man was going to make a great team captain someday. Probably this season if Scott didn’t get back on the team. “Faster than I expected. Then it just cycled into getting through the next game. The next season.”

  “Are you sure you want to start it again?”

  “Of course I don’t want to start it again. I won’t repeat that path.”

  “How can you be sure?” Rylie asked.

  “How can you be sure you won’t dislocate your hip again?” he challenged right back. “You can’t. You simply go out, play your game and pray like hell that it doesn’t happen again.”

  “Praying isn’t going to stop the pain.” Hauke’s level tone hit the end of Scott’s patience with the topic. He was tired, drained and needed to get the hell out of there.

  The craving did a flip and slithered down his back, its silent cackle echoing in Scott’s head. He dug out some cash for the tab and shut down the irritating urge to call Jessie. He should really delete the man’s number from his phone. Should...but Jessie was
a longtime friend. He couldn’t get himself to dump their friendship when his addiction was his own fault, not Jessie’s.

  “I appreciate your concern,” he said as he stood. “But it’s not needed. If things don’t go well these next few weeks, then at least I’ll know I tried.”

  He left before they could respond. Having the last word gave him a dash of fake power he desperately needed. So he had more doubters. Or were they truly concerned friends?

  And was there really a difference between the two?

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Rachel stuffed the last of her papers into her bag with her laptop. She could finish the rest of her grading at home. Staying busy had been her best defense against wallowing. If that meant she worked until her eyes refused to stay open every night, then that was what she did. At least then she had a shot of falling asleep in her bed before the tears came.

  She’d ruthlessly washed the bedsheets the day he’d left and had regretted it that night. It was better though. He was gone, and any reminders of him would only keep her from moving on. And she was determined to do that, despite the huge hole in her heart.

  There were a few teachers still left, and she stopped to chat with them as she headed to her car. Anything to prolong her arrival home.

  Her gym was close to her house, but she always brought her workout clothes with her. Otherwise it’d be too tempting to just stay home once she got there. Or it had been a temptation before Scott. It wouldn’t be an issue now.

  A five-mile run on the treadmill, followed by a circuit on the weights, studious time spent stretching and a long hot shower sucked up another two hours. She accredited her daily runs to helping maintain her sanity. She could thank her dad for that. He’d had all three of his kids out running miles since they were six or seven years old. Maybe earlier.

  The thought of her dad had her stepping into the shade of a tree as she exited the gym. She checked the time and on impulse grabbed her phone and called him. He’d probably still be at work—or he would’ve been a few years ago. He’d managed to slow down some since his heart attack two years ago, but that only meant he was now working fifty to sixty hours a week instead of eighty. She seriously doubted he’d ever voluntarily leave the military.

  “Rachel?” The sharp bark had her squaring her shoulders before she laughed at herself.

  “Hey, Dad.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Her smile spread to warm her at his predicable question. “Nothing. I’m just calling to check in.” Words her father would understand, even though she usually called her mother to do that. “How are you and Mom doing?”

  There was a rough grunt that could’ve been surprise or irritation. It didn’t really matter to her. As frustrating and single-minded as her dad could be, she’d learned to accept who he was long ago. That had been the only way she could forgive him after he’d beaten Rock for kissing a boy when he was barely a teenager.

  “We’re both good. And you?”

  She chose to ignore the irritated note in his voice. “Good, just like you.” People passed on the sidewalk a few feet away, and she stepped around the tree trunk until she faced the line of mirrored windows that ran the length of building. “Anything new to report?”

  “No.” There was a beat of silence before her father got straight to the point. “What’s this really about, Rachel?” The monotone voice hid his thoughts on the question and call. Another normal unless he was barking orders or reprimands. But there’d also been praise. Encouragement too—when it’d met his criteria for success.

  Her sigh was heavy, but she kept it silent. “Nothing, Dad. I honestly just called to say hi.” That was part of her role as family mediator. Check in with everyone in the hopes that someday they might all forgive, accept and maybe...what? Be a family again?

  She was the only one who seemed to want that anymore. Rock was solid with Carter and his self-made family, and her parents, along with her oldest brother, were happily encased in the military family where they’d been their entire lives.

  Her dad gave another short grunt. “Hi, Rachel.” A pause. “Is there anything else?”

  She shook her head, smile still in place despite his abrupt manner. It was him, and that was oddly comforting right now. “Nope. Take care, Dad.”

  “Right. You, too.”

  The phone went silent before it beeped to signal the disconnection. The tree bark cut into her shoulder blades through her tank when she leaned back, head falling to thump on the trunk. Her dad had been the first person to teach her through actions that no one was perfect. That people made mistakes, could unintentionally and intentionally hurt loved ones and still be decent human beings. Still love in their own way.

  She might want a different life for her kids than the one she’d been raised in, but she couldn’t begrudge her father for how she was raised. Because in the end, she was pretty certain she’d turned out okay.

  And if that was true, why was she so damn resistant to spending any part of their relationship away from Scott when kids weren’t even in the equation?

  The sun was lowering on the horizon when she parked her car in her short drive. One deep inhale, and she shoved the door open. She’d stopped searching for the grill smell days ago. His fancy road bike was still locked to the deck rails though, and she couldn’t resist kicking the tire as she passed it. Childish? Definitely.

  She should sell it. Or give it away. There were plenty of students who’d take it.

  And that was a bit too cold. And soon.

  If that meant she was still hoping he’d come back, then she accepted that.

  She stepped into the kitchen, breezed past the doormat that held only her shoes along the wall and went through her unpacking routine. She tossed a pre-cooked chicken breast into the microwave to heat up and mentally clicked through her list of things to get done that evening.

  It was a small challenge every night to not check the hockey websites for gossip on Scott. She’d studiously cancelled all her subscriptions for auto updates and tried like hell to block all thoughts of hockey from her mind. Given her complete lack of interest in the game prior to Scott, it shouldn’t have been so hard.

  The sun had set, her chicken salad sat half finished at the edge of the table and the numbers were blurring together on the current paper she was trying to grade when the music cut out on her cell to let a call ring through.

  Her breath hitched, hope sailing unwanted as her gaze cut to her phone. Rock’s name glared from the screen. Her brief flight of possibility took an immediate plunge, a string of reprimands marching through her head.

  “Hey, Rock,” she answered, voice determinedly even. It didn’t matter that her pulse was still decelerating. She refused to let her disappointment show.

  “How are you doing?” he asked.

  “Good.”

  There was a short pause of warning before he dove past her platitude. “Are you sure about that? I hear Scott’s back on the ice. Up here.”

  “Is he? That’s good.” She faked the rise in her voice, the upbeat note of support when she wanted to curse.

  “I’m not buying it,” Rock grumbled. “I know you too well.”

  She slumped in her chair, head dropping against the back. There was a quick mental shuffle between bluffing and divulging that strained the wall she’d re-erected around her emotions. “I’m fine,” she finally said, her sigh a silent release.

  Another hiccup in the flow of conversation let her know her brother wasn’t fooled. It both touched and annoyed her.

  “I know he was down there this summer.”

  Rachel lurched up, stomach lunging to catch up. “What do mean? How?” Indignation immediately followed. “Did you snoop into my life? You had no right!”

  “We already covered this,” he growled right back.

  The hard resolve in his voice only inflamed her anger. “No. We did not. This goes beyond you looking out for me. This is blatant invasion of mine and Scott’s privacy. And I don’t apprec
iate it.” Her tone lowered with the injustice. “Just because you can dig up information doesn’t give you the right to.”

  “I thought we’d agreed to disagree on this topic.” His quiet firmness held an unaccustomed weariness.

  “It still doesn’t make it right.” She rubbed her forehead before pressing on the pain in her temple. “You’d hunt down anyone who snooped into yours or Carter’s life. You can’t keep doing it to me and expect me to just accept it.”

  “I’m still your brother.”

  Her dry chuckle scratched over her throat. “That you are.” He might’ve softened a little since getting with Carter, but some things would never change. “If I want you to know something, I’ll tell you.” She put force in the last words to make her point before going in for the kill. “And I’ll sic Carter on you the next time you so blatantly invade my privacy.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “I would.” Her sly grin was unappreciated, but it filled her face anyway. “Try me.” Carter was a fairly mild-mannered man who had the rare power to curb Rock’s stubbornness. She’d witnessed it in action more than once during her visit and she had no shame about using that knowledge now.

  A soft curse filtered over the line. “Fine.” His heavy sigh and agreement had her shoulders dropping, along with most of her resentment. “So tell me the truth,” he urged, not demanded, which was what their father would’ve done. “Is everything okay? I know you, sis. You fell pretty fast and hard for that guy, and that’s not you.”

  “No.” She swallowed. “It’s not me.” It had never happened like that before. Not with such ease. Not even when she’d been younger and actively searching for a man to love and be loved by.

  Rock cleared his throat, the rumble a bur of concern and discomfort. “He was down there with you for most of the summer. If he was a good thing and you’re doing great, why does it sound like you’re not?”

  She processed Rock’s words, coming to one clear conclusion. He didn’t know about the rehab. He would’ve grilled her right now if he had.

  Relief sagged through her, and she pushed harder on the building throb in her temple. She could deal with Rock knowing her pain and how foolish she’d been if that meant keeping Scott’s secret safe.