This was worse than being traded to a town with even colder winters than fucking Boston.
“We’re going to name you the Boston Glaciers’ ambassador to the PPHL Blind Division.”
I blinked at him. “What?”
“I know you heard me,” Noah said.
I shoved my drachma back into my pocket and folded my arms. “And what if I say no?”
“Then I smile and say it’s cute you think you have a choice. Now, get the fuck out of my office. I have shit to do.”
I could have punched something.
Instead, I walked down to the gym and ran on the treadmill for so long I nearly threw up, then called Noah in for a meeting to tell him that I didn’t care if he said I had no choice. I couldn’t do it. He needed to pick someone else. There were half a dozen guys on our team who did charity all fucking summer long while I sat with my ass in the sand and my hand down the front of my pants.
I was not the man for the job.
But then my brother called, and now I was here, missing my meeting, all worked up and pissed off and watching Peter, who was snoring gently on the couch. I couldn’t hate him for it. I’d spent the last few months hating his entire family, only to learn—assuming that Jonah and his smart, annoyingly pretty mouth wasn’t lying to my face—that only Peter’s wife knew about his condition.
I knew he had three sons. I knew they were mostly estranged. I knew they were blind.
I did not know two of them were fucking hockey players until today.
It was my fault for assuming they’d be just regular guys with regular jobs and maybe a couple of cute guide dogs I could pet. Fucker didn’t have a guide dog at all, which was yet one more tick in the column of why he sucked.
I took a deep breath and turned my attention back to my brother, who was breathing heavily on the other end of the phone. “Did you know who Peter’s son was?”
“Not before he came in. I know now. I looked him up.”
“Fantastic.”
“He’s a goalie for the Legend.”
I knew that, of course. All the weird ones were goalies. Vanya had been on the Glaciers for the last two years. He was my friend, but he was also the strangest motherfucker I had ever met in my life. The other day, I caught him putting whole avocados in his gym bag because he said when they ripened, they smelled like come, and it attracted lovers like flies to honey.
That was one conversation I walked away from.
“His brother plays for the Fury.”
“What the fuck?” I said like I didn’t know that.
“Prodigies,” he said. It sounded a little like a question, but I couldn’t be sure.
“Doubt it.” Though Jonah did seem very flexible, and…fuck no. I was not thinking about that, god damn it.
I set the drachma on its side on the table and flicked it, watching it spin in a circle, then shudder and fall. It was ancient and not very round, so it didn’t spin well, but the motion was still soothing. I did that three more times before putting it back into my pocket. The last thing I needed was to lose the damn thing.
Then my season would be truly fucked.
“The Legends have amazing stats,” Nikos said.
“Yeah, but they also have different rules.” I wasn’t going to say they were easier. I had no fucking idea. But the mouthy little shit tried to claim he could beat my ass on my ice playing my game, and I’d like to see him fucking try. “What about their third brother? I know he’s not in the PPHL…”
“Jonah talked about him on an interview a few years back when he was first drafted. I watched it on YouTube a few minutes ago. His little brother is a metalsmith or blacksmith or something.”
“That sounds dangerous. Especially if he can’t see.” I shut my mouth after that, but I didn’t think I was wrong. Though I was pretty sure that shit was dangerous for anyone.
“I think you should probably take a beat before you speak,” Nikos said. He was always the more reasonable one. The fact that he followed me to America was the best and worst decision of my life.
