Chapter 23
Our father and Adrianna should be getting home soon—or at least by the time we get back from practice.
I think our best bet at confronting him is to corner him in his office. We’re going to be up front and honest, not backing down until he wakes the hell up. It should go smoothly.
“How are the two new lovebirds doing this morning?” Elias chuckles as we skate out onto the ice for practice.
Asher mockingly laughs at him. “You wish that were you, huh? Lonely ass.”
Elias flips him off with a smirk. “You think I’m single because I can’t get anyone? Wrong.”
Malik stealthily skates up behind him, lifting his stick into the air like a baseball bat.
“Don’t you fucking dare.” Elias spins right as Malik readies to swing to chop at his legs.
Caught red-handed, Malik straightens his spine, and he drops his stick to the ice, his hands in the air. “Do what?”
“Yeah. You’re innocent, I’m sure.” Elias grins, crossing his arms over his broad chest.
With a shit-eating grin, Malik drifts over to him. When he’s inches from his face, he blows a kiss. “You know you wanted it.”
Planting his gloves on his chest, Elias shoves him away, and Malik uses the momentum to skate off, probably going to torture someone else.
Our head coach blows the whistle, and we all skate over to the bench. But I’m struggling to hear a single word the entire time he talks because I can’t stop thinking about Adrianna and my father and about my girl, Cirella, who deserves the fucking world.
Nothing adds up about the story Cirella told me about Adrianna and Patrick’s relationship. A man that smart wouldn’t leave everything to his brand-new wife instead of his beloved daughter.
I spoke with a couple of our lawyers about it yesterday, wondering if they could dig into it a bit, but I’m waiting to hear back.
Regardless, I’m getting that house back to Cirella in one piece. But in the meantime, while she’s exiled from it, I want to get her something to lift her spirits.
Is it illegal? Yes.
Would my father lose his mind, knowing what I plan on doing? Absolutely.
Am I going to do it anyway? Yeah, with all of my friends.
They might not know or have agreed to it yet, but I’m going to talk to them after practice. I know without a doubt they’ll be down to help me, especially after what we did to that crooked professor when Malik needed us.
It doesn’t matter that it’s illegal to disarm cameras, a security system, and break into said house to steal something when you have the cops on speed dial.
They looked the other way when they showed up to help us last time, finding Malik’s knuckles broken and bloody and an esteemed, well-respected man with his face busted to shit.
We practically fund this entire town, and if I need to bend a few laws and officers to my will, so be it. I’ll do it for her a thousand times over.
We set up a couple of drills, and I run through them mindlessly, my muscle memory taking over completely.
I won’t be able to stay locked into my thoughts when we start to scrimmage, but I can get away with it for now.
Surprisingly, I get lost in the drills, getting out of my own head naturally before we begin scrimmaging.
Our group scores, leading one to zero before a quick water break. But we’re right back to it seconds later, the momentum of the game shifting back and forth between our teams.
A frog grows in my throat, and the swell of emotion from how much I love this sport catches me off guard as I sink a puck into the net with a redirect.
Scoring doesn’t usually make me fucking cry, so I don’t know what the hell’s going on.
But as practice comes to an end and we walk back to the locker room, I can’t stop thinking about it.
Asher and I are going to go pro—I mean, hell, damn near our entire team will. But Asher’s time in the league will last longer than mine.
I agreed with my father a long time ago that I would only play for a couple of years, satisfy the itch, and then retire to take over the Kensington empire for him.
Sometimes, I forget how much I love hockey. I think in the back of my mind, I’ve tried to keep my passion for it at bay, knowing that it won’t be able to last forever, even if I might want it to. It’s the choice I made, and I’ll stick to it because I’m not one to go back on my word.
I sit back and let Asher take the lead, asking our close friend group—Griffin, Malik, Elias, and Finn—about helping break into Cirella’s house. Obviously, they agree, some maybe a little too enthusiastic about the heist.
“I can bring my lock picks or a bump key. Should be easy to get in once you disarm the security system,” Finn offers excitedly, a look of nostalgia in his eyes. “I’m sure I can get into it, no problem. Do you know what type of system and lock they have?”
“You know what, Finny? We don’t ask you enough about yourself.” Griffin stares at him like he’s not sure what he just heard, brows furrowed and mouth agape. “Because what the fuck?”
Malik laughs. “It’s always the quiet ones.”
“And the goalies,” Asher adds.
“While I appreciate your eagerness to commit a crime, Finn, we won’t need that.” I sit up, ready to calm our thief’s excitement. “I got the house code from Adrianna’s room.”
“You did?” Asher scoffs. “When?”
“Don’t worry about it.” I grin. “I’m sneaky.”
“As a damn bull,” Ash jabs. “But good job.”
“Meet outside our gate at eight tonight. We’ll go over in one vehicle so it looks less insane to any neighbors. But from what I’ve scouted, only a few families and an elderly couple live in the houses across or beside them. No tie to Adrianna or our family. I doubt they’re going to snitch.”
Asher stares at me with an indiscernible look in his eyes. “I’m impressed.”
“Shut up,” I scoff.
“I’m serious.” His gaze softens for a second before a smirk takes over. “I told you, breaking rules is a gateway drug. Now look at you; you’re a full-blown criminal.”
“I hate you,” I mutter with a straight face.
He tucks his cheek into his shoulder, cheesing. “You love me.”
“I’d love you more if you were less annoying,” I groan, standing up and grabbing my shit to go shower.
He throws his hands up. “But then you’d be so bored.”
I ignore him, stripping my gear and clothes off before heading to wash away whatever heaviness has been lingering since practice. Although I think it might have been there long before today, but I only just acknowledged it.
What if I want to play pro hockey for more than a couple of years?
But asking dumb questions only results in hurt feelings when I already know the answers. I can’t. Because if I don’t step up, then Asher will have to. I’d rather watch him chase his dreams than be the reason they’re shattered.
The hot water is immediately refreshing, and part of me wants to stay here forever. But I know eventually, we’re going to go home and face my father, giving him one last chance to be the man we grew up loving.
He’s the one who saved us from a life of uncertainty. We owe him a lot, and I’ve given him everything I have left, but I refuse to let him marry that foul woman and further allow her to torment my girl.
If he won’t listen to us, then we’ll have to up the stakes, turning his rehearsal dinner into our own stage.
We’re walking inside after our late afternoon practice when a text comes through from Cirella to our group chat with Asher and me.
Cirella: They’re back.
Asher: Ugh.
We’re here. Has she bothered you?
My chest tightens at the thought that the first thing Adrianna might’ve done when getting home was go after her. If that’s the case, I don’t know if I’ll be able to hold myself back a second time around.
Cirella: She went out shopping, so she’s not even here. I left her gown in her room so I can hopefully avoid talking to her altogether.
Asher: Good. That’s a perfect plan.
With Adrianna gone, now is the time to speak with our father uninterrupted. Which is exactly what we plan to do as we step through the front door.
Myra is in the entryway, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s keeping an eye out for Adrianna’s return. She’s become a mother figure to Cirella, and I’m so fucking grateful that Ciri’s had Myra to look out for her.
“Hi, Myra. Have you seen Everett?” I ask her.
“Yeah. In his office.” Her voice is quiet.
“Thank you,” I tell her, striding away with confidence toward the king’s lair, Asher at my side and swords at the ready.
The door is open as we approach, and when I turn into the room, he’s sitting at his desk, the large stained-glass window at his back, casting a rainbow of colors across the room.
But he’s gray and somber—the opposite of the man who let his sweet wife install it.
My gaze drops to him, but not before shooting back up at the glass.
What the actual fuck?
It’s different.
It’s wrong.
It’s not the portrait of him and my smiling mother, crafted from thousands of glass shards. Now, standing ceiling high is a portrait of him and … Adrianna.
“Boys. Come in.” He doesn’t bother looking up, his face buried in work, and I’m glad he doesn’t because I might actually stab him if he dares meet my eye after what he’s done in here.
Asher shuts the door behind us, not wanting anyone to possibly overhear our conversation. But at this point, I don’t even know if there will be one because I’m seconds from ruining the entire meeting.
“How was your trip?” Asher asks.
I glare at his attempt at small talk, gesturing to the glass. He follows my instruction, and when he sees the piece that has replaced our mom on the wall, his face falls, along with his shoulders.
Our father sits up, clasping his hands and giving us his full attention. His eyes are hollow, void of all emotion and light. “Cut to the chase. What do you both want?”
Everything I’ve prepared, every heartfelt statement to help coax him from the edge of insanity, is gone because the man I came to talk to is no longer here. He’s been replaced with a robot look-alike of my father, who I don’t know at all.