“Uh, no, I’d better go.” He stood abruptly, tripping over the chair behind him and almost knocking it over. Teagan giggled, while the others laughed out loud, including me. Untangling himself from the chair, Axel pushed it back, then he bowed low with a flourish, which set off another round of chortling. At least he could laugh at himself. I was impressed.
He told the kids good night, and I shooed them off to bed, even Teagan. When I turned back to him, he was standing nearby with his hands in his pockets.
“Good night,” I said abruptly, not wanting to hang with him in private. Being alone with this man was too dangerous and too tempting. I made a huge mistake and met his gaze. His meadow-green eyes held mine, and try as I might, I didn’t have the willpower to look away.
“Geneva.” His voice was soft, like a caress. He took a step toward me, pulled by that same visible thread I felt every time our eyes met. He stopped, and his gaze reflected the battle waging inside him. I had my own battle, and I wasn’t sure I was winning. If we gave in to our baser instincts, neither of us would be the victor.
I broke my gaze from his, though doing so required superhuman effort on my part.
“You should go.” Other than my words, there wasn’t one thing about me that wanted him to go, and he had to have read my face.
“Are you sure?”
I was nothing if not straightforward. “Axel, I can’t deny this attraction between us, but this cannot happen.”
“Because of your brother?”
“That’s part of it, but also because of my job and my current priorities. You should be concentrating on making the team and extracting yourself from this mess with my sister-in-law.”
He nodded in resignation and reluctant agreement. “I only had that one night with her, and she propositioned me in the bar, I swear to God. I had no idea she was married and especially not to a teammate.”
I was beginning to believe him, though I wasn’t sure why, but I wouldn’t afford cutting him any slack, not yet. He hadn’t paid enough for his dumb-shit move. “You picked up a random woman in the bar. Did you really think that was a good idea?”
“I didn’t think.” He swallowed and averted his eyes, ashamed of himself as he should be.
“You didn’t think beyond your dick, which in most cases would be good enough for me, but this time my blood is involved, and Jock means more to me than some casual fuck ever will.” I walked to the door and held it open. “Please, leave.”
“Okay.” He squared his shoulders, walked out the door, and didn’t look back.
I, on the other hand, looked forward and watched him go with a mixture of relief and regret.
~~Axel~~
I drove home. When I put my key card in the slot, the door to the parking garage opened, and I entered. I parked in my spot, which was halfway to the elevators, and got out. The garage was dimly lit, and I wasn’t one to worry. I was a big guy and held my own in a fight.
I was almost to the elevator when a figure stepped out from behind a van. Alerted by possible danger, every muscle in my body tensed, as I turned to confront the shadowy figure. As the person walked under a dim light, I let out the breath I’d been holding.
“Bria?”
She staggered toward me, her eyes unfocused and bloodshot. The smell of liquor overpowered me. Her lips thinned into a grim line. Her body language was full of menace and alcoholic rage. I merely stared down at her impassively and kept my distance as best I could.
“You have to fix thish. Thish wash your fault.” She slurred her words, but I understood her.
“We’re both to blame. I can’t lie for you,” I said firmly but carefully. This woman was an explosive powder keg of instability. I’d had an alcoholic aunt like her, and I recognized all the signs.
“Because you won’t. You’re a selfish bastard,” she snarled. She started toward me, staggered, and steadied herself on the nearest car.
“Think what you want of me. Just leave me alone. This is the last time I’m going to ask you.”
“You’re a heartlesh bastard.”
I shrugged, not caring what she thought of me. “You didn’t tell me you were married to a teammate, no less.”
“Would it have made a differensh?”
“Fuck yes. I don’t mess with married women. That’s on you. I should’ve been smarter, realized the warning signs were there.” Why was I even trying to reason with this drunk woman?
She tried a different tactic. Her pretty mouth pulled down into an ugly, pouty face. “But I need your help to save my marrish.”
“Only you can save your marriage.” If it’s salvageable, I thought, but didn’t speak out loud.
She leaned toward me, showing me ample cleavage, her voice lowered to a seductive purr. “If you just tell him we didn’t do anything, I’ll make it worth your while.”
“This behavior is exactly why I’m not getting involved. I’m not convinced you deserve him.”
Her face shifted back to pissed and bent on revenge.
“Bria, let me make this perfectly clear. I don’t want to see you again, now or ever. I want you to go away and never come back. If you don’t, I’ll get a protection order and have you arrested.”
Her blue eyes narrowed to menacing slits, and she held out one manicured finger and pointed it unsteadily at me. “You will regret thish. I promish you that. All of you will regret how you’ve treated me.” She spun on her heel, stumbled, and weaved off into the darkness. I watched for a short time until she disappeared down the exit ramp. Her heels echoed against the concrete walls long afterward like an ominous warning.
Shaking off the dark cloud of confusion and concern shitting all over my already crappy day, I entered the elevator and hurried to the relative safety of the condo.
Kaden and Steele were sitting on the couch watching hockey highlights when I entered. I went straight to the fridge and grabbed a cold one. Popping off the top, I slumped onto the cushion next to Steele. He shot me a sideways glance and did a double take.
“You look like a guy who’s seen better days,” Steele noted. “Was dinner that harsh?”
“No, it was manageable. It was afterward.”
“Afterward?” Kaden asked, not taking his eyes off the large flat-screen dominating one wall of the room. The clip of an incredible goal played over and over, as the analysts droned on and on about the impossible shot. I wasn’t impressed. I’d seen tons of impossible shots in my life. As soon as you deemed a shot impossible, some player proved you wrong.
“Yeah, Bria was in the parking garage waiting for me when I got home.”
“Of this building?” Steele was incredulous.
“Yeah, she was wasted. Wants me to help her get back with Jock.”
“Really?” I had Kaden’s full attention now.
I told them about our conversation, grateful for their sympathy rather than censure. They already knew I felt like shit about this and wished it’d never happened.
“She’s fucking wacko.” Steele shrugged, but his troubled gaze already told me what he thought more than his words ever would.
“She’s seriously messed up, dude,” Kaden said. “Are you going to tell Jock?”
“And open up a bigger rift between Jock and me?”
“Probably not a good idea, after all,” Kaden conceded.
“I’d steer clear of the entire mess. Eventually, it’ll blow over.” Steele grabbed our empties and put them in the recycle. The guy hated a mess, and Kaden wallowed in messes. He grabbed three more longnecks from the fridge, popped the tops, and returned to his seat, handing a beer to each of us. I took a long pull as I contemplated the shitty lose-lose situation I was embroiled in.
“I’ll talk to his sister. She’ll have an idea what to do.”
“Doesn’t she hate you, too?” Steele asked.
“Yeah, but she also hates her sister-in-law.”
“Well, good luck with that. In the meantime, you might want to be extra careful around the sister. I’ve seen
how the two of you look at each other.” Steele shot me a meaningful glance. That fucking dickhead never missed a thing. Of course he’d noticed the sparks between Geneva and me.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I had no recourse but to deny what Steele saw as obvious.
“What the fuck, dude? You got a thing for Jock’s sister? You’re dumber than I thought. He’ll castrate you and shove your balls down your throat if he finds that out.”
“I don’t have a thing for her. Fuck you both.” I shot to my feet and stalked down the hallway, slamming the door to my room. Only then did I realize my childish overreaction only solidified what they suspected. Way to go, Vanderbuel. What a dumb shit I’d been.
I threw myself onto my king bed and stared at the ceiling, pissed at my stupidity. A guy never gave his buddies ammunition like I just had and not plan on being tortured for the rest of the season, if not longer. I was hosed.
But, damn, I couldn’t for the life of me get my mind off Geneva.
My thoughts drifted to my night with the Frontiers. I loved the kids. They were spunky, enthusiastic, and good kids. I had to give Jock credit for raising them. He’d done a great job, and I doubted Bria had played a very large part in their upbringing. She didn’t come across as a concerned mother. Esme and Eunice had played the mother roles as far as I could tell.
Then there was Geneva. What the fuck was I going to do about Geneva? Every time I was near her, an unmistakable pull of attraction taunted me. I was a healthy male with a good libido and used to getting what I wanted when it came to women. I never had to try very hard. I know that might sound conceited, but there were plenty of females happy to have bragging rights to spending a night with a pro hockey player. None of them had caused me this kind of problem. I’d had a few who’d been obsessed and read more into the act, but they’d all gone their way after a week or so and moved on to the next guy.
This Bria situation was proving to be more difficult.
And resisting Jock’s sister wasn’t getting any easier either.
Chapter 8—In the Air
~~Axel~~
The next night was game night at home.
The Sockeyes had lost their last three and sorely needed this win. At the start of the third period, the game was tied at one goal each. I was playing on the second line with Easton and Ziggy. We were starting to gel, and I was close to finding my grove.
As we streaked down the ice, Ziggy flicked a pass to Easton, but one of the Arizona defensemen deflected the pass, and Locke from Arizona jumped on it. We reversed and gave chase, as Locke powered toward the net. Just as he got there, he spun sideways and shot. Then all hell broke loose. His blades didn’t catch ice but slipped out from underneath him, sending him skidding toward the net. Brick, poised to block the shot, wasn’t in a position to deflect the hit coming his way. Locke slammed into him, and Brick’s helmet flew off from the force of the impact.
I watched in abject horror with the rest of my team as our star goalie lay immobile on the ice. Blood ran from his nose and a gash on his head where Locke’s blades had slashed him. Brick’s right wrist rested on the ice bent at an angle no wrist should ever bend at. The scene was gory and heart-stopping. As a team, we helplessly gathered in a circle while the trainers and team doctor rushed to Brick’s side.
This was not good.
Brick wasn’t moving, but I saw the steady rise and fall of his chest. He’d been knocked out, and they were stabilizing his neck as if concerned for his spine. I watched for any sign of movement, a twitch of his skates or the bending of a finger.
The longer he lay immobile, the more concerned we became. He was more than a kick-ass goalie. He was our friend, our comrade in arms, our safety net in a storm—no pun intended. When the team had a bad night, Brick stepped up his play to make up for the rest of us.
After what seemed like a lifetime but was only a matter of minutes, a stretcher was brought out, and Brick was loaded into an ambulance. He lifted his hand in a salute just before they carted him away. The team breathed a collective sigh of relief.
The referees signaled for play to resume, and Coach swapped lines. Those of us who’d been on the second line had been on the ice and witnessed the crash up close. We were visibly shaken, and I suspect Coach wanted to give us time to get our collective act together. I sat down on the bench and did my best to get ahold of myself.
“Do you need a towel?” said a voice in my ear. My body immediately responded to the sound. I turned slightly to see Geneva leaning close with a towel in her hand. I took the towel and wiped off my face.
“Thanks.”
“You’ve got this. I have faith in you.” She beamed at me, and just like that, I felt better, lighter, more capable of going back out there and kicking some ass. How she did that with just a smile, I didn’t know. The power she had over me was starting to get a little disconcerting.
“Come on, guys, we have to win this one for Brick,” Ice said as he stood near the boards with the first line gathered round. I focused my full attention on the game, but the effect of Geneva’s smile stayed with me like bubble wrap protecting me from a bumpy ride.
I tapped my stick on the boards to express my agreement, then sat back to watch the first line take their spots on the puck drop.
Cedric won the drop, and play resumed. Arizona moved quickly to take advantage of Jock, who was cold off the bench. Jock bent down low and deflected the puck like the professional he was. His concentration was flawless, his timing exact, and his determination was not to be denied. He deflected everything they shot at him, practically standing on his head at times to do so.
Late in the third, a pass from Rush to Cave resulted in a score, and we won the game two to one.
I tromped down the hallway to the locker room. My body ached, and all I wanted was a hot shower. I felt better about my game. Even though I hadn’t scored, I had an assist and was finding my zone.
Some of the staff stood in the hallway, as usual after a win, with fist bumps all around, including Geneva. We fist-bumped, and I winked at her. She gave me a nod and a smirk, as if to say I told you that you could do it. That one simple gesture made the win that much sweeter.
In my heart, I knew I was getting in deeper every time I laid eyes on Geneva. She warmed my soul and strengthened my confidence just by being her. I couldn’t explain the feeling, but it was as if we’d known each other for a lifetime, as corny as that sounds. I’d had steady girlfriends before, but none of them lasted long, and not one of them made me feel like Geneva did by just being in her presence. Sex with her would be beyond my wildest dreams. Only I couldn’t go there. Jock would kill me, and the coach would send me packing if I caused any more grief for the team. Being with Geneva wasn’t going to happen except in my nightly fantasies. At least I had those.
The locker room was unusually quiet after a victory. We were all worried about Brick.
My teammates took turns walking over to Jock and congratulating him on a game well played. I waited until the last, knowing I didn’t dare avoid speaking to him, yet dreading the reception I might get.
Jock was sprawled on the bench in his hockey pants and nothing else. He’d long ago stripped out of his pads and jersey.
“Great game,” I said lamely.
He glanced up, smiling, but the smile dropped off his face when he realized I was the one talking. “Thanks.”
He bent down to pick up his skates, and I recognized a dismissal when I saw one. I beat a hasty retreat, considering it an improvement I didn’t walk away with another black eye.
The coach entered the room, and we turned to him, waiting for the news on Brick. He cleared his throat, but he didn’t need to get our attention. All eyes were on him.
“Good game tonight under challenging conditions, boys. It’s never easy to see a teammate go down like that, but you held yourselves together in a manner that would make Brick proud. I’m pleased to say he’s not suffering any sort of spinal injury and will have a full r
ecovery.”
We breathed a collective sigh of relief as a team.
“But—”
I stopped breathing for a moment.
“I’m afraid he’s going to need major wrist surgery and will be out for the remainder of this season, including the playoffs.”
Sighs went around the room, peppered with fucks and damn its.
“It’s unfortunate, but that’s hockey. We’ve all been there. We’ve all experienced injuries among teammates and ourselves. What’s important is to stay together and battle together. We have an exceptional backup goalie in Frontier, and we’re going to support him by playing the best hockey we can play.”
I stole a glance at Jock. He was staring at his hands, firmly clasped in his lap. He didn’t like being the center of attention, unlike some of us, which was good considering he’d been in the background for most of his career.
I’d been debating on talking to Jock about his ex visiting me, but I couldn’t bring myself to pile it on. He already had a lot to handle. Besides, he was better off without her, and I was better off not reminding him that a guy he had to see every day slept with his wife.
The coach finished his speech, and I showered and changed into street clothes. The Puck Brothers, except Easton, were going out to party, and I was joining them. I needed a good night of drunken partying, and this was my last shot before the road trip where Jock and I would be joined at the hip due to the coach’s requirements.
Geneva would be on that road trip, too, and I was looking forward to seeing more of her, as stupid as I knew that was.
~~Geneva~~
Road trips were hard on equipment staff. We worked sixteen-plus-hour days packing and unpacking equipment, setting up in different locker rooms, washing jerseys, and all the other stuff that went along with maintaining a player’s equipment. The work was endless, but I liked it. There was something rewarding about playing a small part in a team’s success. The guys treated us well and recognized the valuable role we played in their daily routines. If someone had told me last summer that I’d enjoy spending the majority of my day washing and drying clothes and towels rather than on a Harley, I’d have laughed in their face, but people change.
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