“Not the point. My new partner needs my help. His niece got into a fight and she’s all alone right now and—”
“I’m coming with,” he says as he slips on a sweatshirt.
“You don’t—”
“Isla.” I know better than to argue with that tone, full of love and protection. He snatches the keys from my hands. “I’ll drive.”
Brooks and I arrive at Wes’s rink ten minutes later. I look for Thea, but don’t spot her on the ice with the hockey camp, on the bench, or in the stands. It takes a few moments for one of the coaches, who are all on the ice and dressed in hockey uniforms, to notice us standing by the bench.
The shorter one elbows a tall, bulky guy, but he shoos the guy off and continues to focus on the kids playing hockey. The shorter one tries again, not-so-discretely nodding in our direction.
The taller one blows his whistle. “Water break,” he shouts in a Russian-accented voice before taking off in our direction, his fellow coach on his heels. He has the number 42 on his shoulder andthe word “Wolves” stitched across his chest. “You’re here for Thea Davidson?”
“Alexei Volkov, right?” Brooks says. “I thought that was you.”
The other coach sprays ice onto Alexei as he comes to a stop. “Hey man, I thought we were going over here together.” He waves at us. “I’m Zach Briggs. We’re guest coaches this week at camp.”
Alexei pushes Zach’s hand down, no trace of amusement on his face.
“I’m Isla Covington, and this is my brother, Brooks. We’re picking up Thea because her uncles are out of town. What happened? Is she okay?”
“She decked someone.” Zach grins. “And it was awe—”
“Let’s talk over there,” Alexei cuts in, stepping off the ice and heading deeper into the tunnel.
“Hey, Princeton?” Zach calls to the guy standing by the bench, shooting water into his mouth from a green and orange bottle. Zach bounces on his skates as he asks, “Can you hold down the fort?”
The guy—Princeton—runs a hand through his hair. He looks like a Ken doll, with absurdly bright blue eyes and thick blond hair. “I have no idea how I’ll manage without you, Briggsy, but I’ll do my best,” he deadpans, to which “Briggsy” gives him a thumbs up.
Alexei stops after about ten paces, far enough away that the team can’t hear us. “Thea got into two fights today.”
“Isn’t punching, like, a core hockey skill?” I ask.
Zach snorts. “It’s the first one you learned, right, Volk?”
Alexei doesn’t take Zach’s bait, focusing his attention on me with a seriousness that reminds me of being called to the principal’s office. “Not at this level.”
“Was it unprovoked?”
Memories from my teenage years flash behind my eyes, the glee on the faces of my classmates as they mocked my body for being small and slight.No tits. No ass. And her face doesn’t make up for it. They never knew that it got to me because I refused to let it show.
“She won’t talk to us about what happened, and none of the other kids will share the details. We brought her into the locker room to defuse the situation.”
“Is the person she punched okay?” Brooks asks.
“He’s fine,” Alexei replies, gaze flicking over to the bench.
I cock an eyebrow. “She was the only one removed from the ice?”
I wonder if this situation would be handled differently if Thea was a boy. I’m sick of double standards. My sometimes abrupt attitude in post-competition press conferences wouldn’t land a man with a reputation of being cold, aloof, and obsessed with winning like it did for me.
“I told you it was a bad look,” Zach says out of the side of his mouth.
Alexei’s withering stare shuts him right up. “She was the only one pulling punches,” he explains.
Brooks nudges me in the side, knowing exactly where my mind has gone. It’s how I know to rein in my emotions. He has my back in every situation but doesn’t hesitate to give me the truth when I need it. And I don’t know the full story of what happened here.
“Thanks for…managing the situation,” I say. “We’ll go get her.”
