Grinding (Portland Icehawks #6)

7. Pressure Mounting

Chapter Seven

PRESSURE MOUNTING

~~Camden~~

My plans for not leaving town during the All-Star Break are shot down when I’m abruptly called back home to deal with a few leftover details of my mother’s estate. I also stop by the police station for an update on my brother’s cold case. Every time I talk to Detective Brown, his suspicious nature troubles me. I don’t know if he thinks I did it or what. There’ve been times over the years when I felt like a suspect, another reason I avoid my hometown.

After a couple days living with painful memories, I treat myself and hop on a plane to Hawaii. I hang out on the beach, meet up with some former teammates, and try to forget about my problems, especially my growing attachment to Inez. One of the main reasons I don’t return to Portland right away is that I’d be too tempted to see her.

Yet despite the countless miles between us, I can’t get her out of my mind. I’ll see a colorful scarf in a shop window and muse about whether or not Inez would like it. I have dinner in the hotel dining room and find myself wondering what she’d pick off the menu. At night, I fantasize about a naked Inez and all the things I’d love to do to her and with her. It’s an exquisite form of torture, but it’s all I get, and all I can have. Ever. Or at least as long as I’m with the Icehawks.

I arrive back in town at the same time as the rest of the team, and we lose another close one the next night. I still haven’t seen much of Inez other than a quick wave when we passed in the hall, even though I’m constantly searching for a glimpse of her.

I’m on the fourth line again, and I manage a few key blocks. Despite the loss, I feel okay about my performance.

After the game, I drive to my condo, park in the parking garage, and take the elevator to my floor. Of course, Drakos isn’t home. I expect him to be gone all night. He’ll pick up a random and find the closest hotel. In the time I’ve shared this condo with him, he’s stayed in his own room a handful of times.

The place is dark. I switch on the lights and hang my coat in the entry closet. I love this place. It’s perfect for me. Within walking distance of the practice facility and an easy drive to the arena. There’s lots to do in this area and great places to eat.

Heading to my bedroom, I change into sweats and a T-shirt, then return to the living room.

Inez made her boundaries clear last week, and I’m glad she did—sorta. One of us needed to. My premature attraction to her must be due to loneliness.

I’m reading too much into our professional relationship. I do a little soul-searching as to my motives. Am I interested in Inez because she holds my future in her hands? Or is there more to it? I know there’s mutual chemistry, though neither of us has acknowledged it to the other.

I grab a beer from the fridge. I’ve probably had enough, but at this point, who gives a shit? Plopping down on Drakos’s sectional, I kick off my shoes and prop my feet up on the large ottoman. I switch on the huge flat-screen and turn to the replay of our game. I settle into my postgame ritual of self-criticism, but my mind continues to wander back to Inez. Her brown eyes can be as hard as stone or soft and inviting. She’s beautiful even when her face is stern and she’s frowning. But a smiling and laughing Inez is formidable and irresistible. I want to hear her laugh over and over. She needs someone in her life to lighten her up and help her relax instead of being so driven.

The door opens and slams shut. I glance at the time. No way can Drakos be home this early. It’s only midnight. But who else can it be? We have the only keys.

Seconds later, a relatively sober Drakos appears from the entry hall. He’s visibly frustrated. Tossing his coat over a chair, he kicks off his shoes and leaves them in the middle of the floor. I don’t say anything. I’ll pick up later because I’ve come to terms with his slovenliness.

Drakos pours a vodka on the rocks and sprawls on the sectional next to me. I study him surreptitiously. He’s unusually sober compared to every other time he’s walked in this door after a night of partying.

“You’re home early. Why’s that?”

Drakos grumbles a few expletives in Ukrainian. I know that’s what they are as he uses them often.

“What?” I prompt him for more, as it’s obvious he needs to get something off his chest.

“One word. Aria.”

“Aria? Are you still upset about a week ago?”

“Yes and no. I went out with the guys to a bar tonight, and she was there with a couple other reporters. We got into it again.”

“You didn’t…” I sigh and run a hand through my hair to push it off my forehead.

Drakos growls and fists his hands in his hair. “Oh, but I did.”

“If anyone recorded your altercation, it’s probably plastered all over social media by now.”

“Oh, she tried, but I grabbed her phone and stomped on it.”

I sat back and blinked several times. Did I hear him right? “You destroyed her phone?”

“Yes.”

“Drakos. You can’t do that.”

“What the fuck? I did. Then the bartender booted me, but she started it.”

“How much of a scene did you make?”

He holds up his thumb and forefinger about an inch apart.

“Really?” I’m skeptical, and he knows it.

Drakos shrugs and then holds out his arms as far as he can. “Maybe this much.”

“Did you let anyone at the Icehawks know in order to do damage control?”

“Nope. I’ll cross the bridge later. She won’t be posting that video.”

I sigh heavily. Drakos is normally good-natured and fun-loving. Lately, Aria’s affected him to the point where he’s losing his shit way too much.

“You’re playing with fire. You know better than I that the Barlowes like their team to reflect family values.”

“Fuck that. Family values are bullshit.”

There’s a story there, but he doesn’t volunteer any further information, and I’m not one to pry.

Drakos snorts and downs his vodka in several gulps. He pours another before pacing the floor. “Aria is the one who should be banned from the practice facility and arena. She purposely needles me to get dirt.”

“Then stop playing her game. Don’t give her anything. It’ll frustrate her more than it does when you argue with her.”

Drakos sobers, and he rubs his chin, as if thinking over what I’ve said. “Maybe. I’ll consider it. For now, the team has more to worry about than some verbal argument with an obnoxious reporter.”

“How so?” He’s piqued my curiosity. Drakos knows everything that goes on with the team. He’s got his nose in everyone else’s business and enjoys being the one in the know.

“A few of the guys got wasted drunk and started a brawl with some Vancouver fans. Every one of them was hauled to the police station. I’m not on management’s radar right now.”

“What guys?” I’m surprised but not surprised.

“Ollie, Koko, and Mike.”

He’s referring to William Oliver, Lane Koehler, and Jayden Michaels. They’re all single guys. Ollie and Koko are young, but Mike knows better, and his involvement is unexpected.

“Mike? That’s someone I wouldn’t expect to get involved in an altercation.”

“Koko started it by hitting on another guy’s fiancée.”

“No surprise there. Koko is a pain.”

“Ollie jumped in. Mike tried to break it up and ended up in the middle of it all. I snuck my ass out of there. I don’t want any part of that. Been there, done that.”

“You have?”

“Yeah. Not one of my finer moments.”

Drakos’s gaze turns to our game on the television. “That game was winnable. We should’ve had it.”

“Yeah, it was winnable. On to the next one.” I try not to dwell on the losses other than to evaluate how I can do better.

“I’m glad you’re getting well-deserved ice time. You’ve earned it. You’re the hardest-working guy out there.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

Drakos shrugs, not willing to dispute his statement. “Shit.” He groans as he watches himself turn over the puck in front of a Vancouver player who spins around and scores.

“Happens to the best of us,” I say. Drakos is a talented forward with a wicked slap shot, ruthless defense, and net-front presence. He might be a partier off the ice, but he’s a leader on the ice, which is exactly why he’s one of the alternate captains.

“It’s frustrating. We’re so inconsistent. One game we play like contenders and the next game like the basement dwellers we were last year.” Drakos leans his head against the back of the couch and stares at the ceiling.

I don’t answer because I haven’t been on the team long enough to offer any insights. We have a good coach, players, and staff. Our facilities are the best in the league. Our ownership and the fans support us 100 percent. I have no answers to our ailments.

We watch the game together and make comments on our own performances and each other’s. I appreciate his insight. Drakos knows hockey. Our discussion turns personal during the second intermission.

“Assuming I’m still on the team after the season ends, is this condo going to be available in the off-season or do you let it go?”

“I own it, so you’re welcome to stay as long as you need.” He cocks his head and studies me as if seeing me for the first time. “You don’t go home for the summer like most of the boys?”

“No real home to go to. Do you go back to Ukraine?”

“No, there’s nothing left there for me.” Gregarious, talkative Drakos shuts down and closes up. It doesn’t take a mental health counselor to know there’s a dark history there, just as there is with my own family.

I manage a wry smile. “I guess we’re both orphans then?”

“Yeah.” Drakos raises his gaze and nods.

I’ve never spent much time talking to my roommate, but it now appears we’re kindred spirits. I don’t press him, but someday I’ll find out.

“Do you think our three brawlers will be suspended?” I change the subject on purpose.

“Definitely.”

“Just what we need, considering we’re on the cusp of a playoff spot.”

“I guess you and I, along with every other guy, must step up.”

“I guess so.” I agree with him, but I don’t know how to step up. I’m about as stepped-up as I can be. Regardless, I have to find a way. The team depends on me now more than ever. And so does Inez.

The pressure is mounting, and I feel the full weight of it all.