As the team starts pulling apart, Crew and I find each other and our eyes lock. He skates over and we hug. “Love you brother.”
“Love you,” I reply, and we break apart.
My eyes move up to the family section and I see my dad and Jordan Garrison grinning at each other and our moms hugging. Mallory and Tenley are standing beside each other in their matching WAG jackets a row down from the parents. Tenley has Tate's son on her hip. She's smiling so wide and bright I swear it blinds me from here. But it also warms my heart. I ignore that feeling because it shouldn't be happening.
We line up and do the handshake thing with the Comets who are beyond dejected. They fought hard and this was a crushing way to lose. My throbbing leg is proof of that. I’m definitely favoring my other leg as I skate off the ice and there’s no way to hide it. I know my dad will notice and he’ll ask me about it when I see him after the game.
Grady grabs my shoulders as we’re walking down the tunnel to the locker room. “Holy shit!”
"Yeah." I grin at him. Grady wasn't with us when we won last year. He's bounced around a few teams in his career, mostly as a backup goalie, and he's never made it this far into the playoffs. I pat the side of his head, his ginger hair slick with sweat under my palm. "You just gotta keep doing what you're doing."
He nods. His eyes drift from me to Landon who is walking slightly ahead. “Landon!”
“Yeah?”
“We gotta keep doing what we’re doing,” Grady says, grinning. “Captain’s orders.”
Landon swivels his head and stares at Grady. “I gotta do more than I’ve been doing. I was completely invisible this game except for when I fucked up and left Osborne open so he could score.”
I grab Landon by the shoulder, tug him back toward us as we exit the tunnel and, like a line of fire ants, walk into the locker room. “Don’t hold onto that shit. We were never going to take them down without a mistake or two and we’ve all made them. Let it go. You were also on the ice when Crew scored. You passed him the puck.”
Grady gives Landon a pat on the shoulder. “Listen to our captain.”
Landon makes a face but I give him a little shake. “Seriously. I think you’re harder on yourself than the rest of us because you missed out last year. But you’re good. We’re good because of you, Casco. You’re contributing. You don’t need to try harder than the rest of us.”
Landon gives me a terse nod that says he doesn’t believe me but wants to. I make a mental note to keep hammering it into him and head to my cubby. I drop down on the bench like a sack of potatoes and the pain in my stupid leg finally eases. Crew stumbles in on his skates and our eyes connect. He nods.
“It’s so fucking weird when you two do the telepathy shit.” Tate chuckles beside me.
“We didn’t do anything,” I argue but then Crew stands in the center of the room and claps his hands, getting the room’s attention, because in that moment we locked eyes he was asking me if I wanted to give the speech to the guys and I was telling him to handle it.
“Without a word. Shit. I guess there is something to that twin thing,” I mutter as Crew begins congratulating everyone on the win and the room explodes in cheers.
Tate smirks at me. “Just keep it up on the ice. You two are like a secret weapon.”
Almost an hour later I’m trying not to limp as I make my way out of the locker room. The twin comment is still spinning around my brain. Do Crew and I have some weird connection, or is it just typical with someone you spend so much time with? We aren’t just siblings after all. We’re teammates. We’ve been on the same team every year since we were six. The amount of time we’ve spent together is dizzying really. I bet I can read other people just as well… if I spent even half as much time with someone else.
I turn the corner, heading toward the VIP lounge where I’m sure I’ll find my fake wife and my real family all excited to congratulate me. And my dad will bring up the limp. I decide to pop into Gabby’s office first to see if she got the x-rays back yet and if the doctor has given her a therapy suggestion to fix this shit. My best guess is stress fracture even though the pain is more of a dull throb than stabbing, which is more typical for a fracture.
There are two short hallways off the large curving main hallway. The one on the left leads to restrooms, the one on the right to Gabby's office, and the assistant coaches. I'm about to turn right when something glints in the corner of my eye. It's like a sparkle or a shimmer of light or something, so I turn my head. And that's when I see Tenley. She's backed up into the wall between the doors to the men's room and the women's room, one shoulder pressed into the smooth pale gray concrete. Her head is tipped up looking at someone. A man. He has his back to me. He has dark hair and he's wearing a suit, which doesn't narrow it down at all in the bowels of a hockey arena. All the players, coaches, and media personalities are dressed like this.
But it doesn't matter who it is. What matters is the look on her face. Over the last few months, I have come to see a lot of looks on Tenley's pretty face, but none of them put fear in my heart. This one does. She's pale, her eyes wide, her jaw slack with fear. I'm stalking over there before I even realize what's happening.
"Tenley," I say her name softly but with a heavy urgency, like I'm scared she won't respond like you'd speak to someone who just lost consciousness as you were trying to revive them.
The man immediately steps away from her and turns to walk by me, down the hall. My eyes lock on his face. “Hey, Nash. Just congratulating your wife.”
Bryce takes one step. I look at Tenley. She looks at the floor and I watch her chest shudder as she exhales. And right at that moment, all I can think of is that night a few weeks ago when Tenley confessed a secret.
A dude groped me once. Grabbed one of my boobs.
Bryce takes another step, brushing past me and patting my shoulder as he goes.
I punched him in the face within a second of it happening. I reacted so fast that for a split second, I worried it was a mistake. He accidentally touched me and I was overreacting. But I wasn't.
“Tenley.” This time she looks at me. She looks… humiliated.
I met her once when she was younger
