11. Cole
Cole
The San Francisco Bridgers were always a tough opponent, more often than not taking the top spot in our division, and had represented the Western Conference in the championship finals several times in the past decade.
Their roster featured several league champions acquired via trade and free agency, and they had a goaltender who duked it out each year for the top goalie award against Sasha Gusev of the Indy Speed.
No one expected us to make the trip up to Northern California and win. Which would only make it that much sweeter when we did.
Coach preached the importance of taking the season one game at a time, that we could beat any opponent if we focused on playing team hockey. Every man in the locker room had bought into that belief, and we stepped onto the ice confident that the outcome was fully within our control.
But that only lasted for about one period before the wheels started to come off and we became the disjointed mess of seasons past all over again.
The first domino to fall was when Christian decided it was a good idea to skate out of the net to collect a puck dumped behind it by the Bridgers.
While he had plenty of time to gather it and shoot it up the boards to Crew or Jagger, he put too much pepper on it, lifting the puck high enough that it hit one of the metal stanchions between the panes of curved plexiglass.
The puck then took a weird bounce, which put it right in front of the open net, and our defensemen were unable to stop the Bridgers forward from slamming it home for the easy score.
To say Coach was pissed was an understatement. He called a timeout just so he could scream at Christian.
Red-faced, he grabbed a fistful of our netminder’s jersey, violently shaking the man, who topped out at six-five.
“Do you see a yellow school bus anywhere?”
Eyes wide, Christian stammered, “N-no.”
“That’s because it’s not time to go on a fucking field trip!
” Coach roared, releasing our goalie so suddenly that he lost his footing and almost crashed to the ice.
Thankfully, Levi was nearby to steady him.
“Your job is to protect the net at all costs. That’s where you belong.
If you refuse to stay there, I have no problem sending you back down to the minors. ”
That threat was enough to scare any player on a two-way contract straight.
“Won’t happen again,” Christian promised, skating toward the net without a backward glance.
Unfortunately, things didn’t get better from there.
Everyone was gripping their sticks too tightly, afraid of making a mistake, which in turn became a self-fulfilling prophecy.
There were turnovers so bad that Coach screamed from the bench, “We’re wearing white jerseys tonight!” as if we didn’t know which players on the ice were our teammates and which were our opponents.
But the straw that broke the camel’s back was when one of our rookie defensemen was skating the puck out of the defensive zone, and a fourth-line forward decided that was a good time for a shift change.
Neither was paying attention to their surroundings, and their collision was brutal.
Not only did it lead to a change of possession because we lost control of the puck, but it also turned into an odd-man rush that the Bridgers scored on, extending their lead.
Oh, and both Surf players involved came off the ice injured.
It was a good thing we traveled with our top medical staff because Coach looked like he was about to have a stroke.
Just when we thought we were finally moving in the right direction, we were shoved two giant steps backward.
Arizona: Bridget didn’t want me to tell you before the game, but being at your house alone was too much for her, and she’s been at our place since last night. It’s up to you if you want to swing by after you guys land later or in the morning to pick her up. I’m fine either way.
Dammit. I hated that we’d had to head out on the road so soon after Bridget’s ex attacked her, but it wasn’t as if I’d had much of a choice.
Coach allowed guys to miss practice or games for family emergencies—birth of a child, death of a family member—but he did so grudgingly, and only because the league would have an issue if he denied leave due to extenuating circumstances.
But Bridget’s situation, and my involvement in it, didn’t qualify. Plus, I was the Surf’s captain, and it was my job to set an example that the rest of the team was expected to follow.
I’ll come over tonight. How is she doing?
Arizona: She’s scared but hanging in there. Maisie’s been doing a great job of providing a distraction when she starts sinking too deep into her thoughts.
I owe her one. Go ahead and double my pledged donation to Thorne Tough as a thank you.
Arizona: Are you sure? You’ve already pledged enough to make you one of the premier sponsors for the inaugural camp.
It’s for a good cause.
Arizona: Can’t argue with you there. I’ll mark it down. Thanks, Cole.
Thank you for being there for my girl when I couldn’t be.
Arizona: Anytime. I mean it.
“Soooooo, we gonna talk about it?” Levi’s head was poised directly over my shoulder, reading my text exchange with his wife.
Standing to remove my towel and tug on my underwear after my post-game shower, I replied, “Nothing to talk about.”
“Right.” He nodded. “Because harboring a half-naked woman in your house is an everyday occurrence.”
Crew’s head whipped around. “Damn, dude, did you finally get back on the horse?”
I shot Levi a glare that said, Thanks a lot.
He lifted one shoulder as if to say, You brought this on yourself.
Oblivious to our silent exchange, my twin kept rolling. “And is ‘harboring’ code for some kind of kinky bondage shit?”
“Oh, for the love of God.” I pinched the bridge of my nose.
“Is that a yes?” Crew pressed.
Once my brother became fixated on something, he was like a dog with a bone, unwilling to let it drop, so there was no point in tiptoeing around the truth. At least this way, I’d save myself from the part where he annoyed the shit out of me until he got the information he sought.
Turning my back on him, I punched my arms through the sleeves of my dress shirt. “It’s Bridget, okay?”
The silence stretched for so long that I dared to peek over my shoulder to find Crew’s face frozen in an expression of shock.
After what felt like an eternity, he blinked, shaking his head as his brain came back online. Clearing his throat, he said, “Bridget? As in, Bridget Russell?”
“Mmm.” I dipped my chin in confirmation.
“As in, Russ’s baby sister?”
“Correct again.” My fingers worked the knot of my tie.
“As in, the girl you secretly dated for years and are still in love with?”
“Yes,” I huffed in exasperation, because he knew damn well who I was talking about.
Crew pushed to his feet, his hand making contact with the back of my head. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
Levi’s wide eyes swung between us. “Well, this took a turn I wasn’t expecting.”
“She’s fucking married, bro!” Crew’s voice rose in volume, causing every pair of eyes in the locker room to swing in our direction.
“Dude, she’s married?” Levi hissed.
I held up both hands. “Everyone, calm down. There was a slight miscommunication that led me to believe the guy I saw her with at the country club was her husband. But it turns out, he’s a liar on top of being an abusive prick who gets off on hurting women.”
Crew swallowed thickly. “H-hurting? He hurt her?”
“Yeah.” My eyes slammed shut, the image of a bruised and bleeding Bridget on my pool deck still so fresh in my mind.
“We’re not gonna let this motherfucker get away with it, right?” My brother’s voice shook with rage—a stark contrast to his normal happy-go-lucky persona.
I ran a hand through my still-damp hair, blowing out a breath. “It’s . . . complicated.”
“Actually, it’s really simple. Fist, meet face.” He punched his palm.
“He’s a cop,” I explained.
“Son of a bitch,” Levi gritted out.
Humming, I said, “That about sums it up.”
Crew still wasn’t satisfied. “So what? We just do nothing?”
“It’s not nothing that I’ve given her a safe place to stay and made sure she’s well cared for while she gets back on her feet.”
Though a displeased rumble worked its way through his chest, he acquiesced, “I suppose . . .”
Dropping onto the padded bench seating of my stall, I bent over to tie my shoes.
“But I have one more question.”
My forehead fell to my knees, and I heaved a sigh. “Fuck my life. What?”
“Levi said she was half naked.”
I looked up. “Hate to break it to you, bud, but that was a statement, not a question.”
“Okay, let’s try again. Why was she half naked in your house?” There was suspicion in his blue eyes.
“It’s not what you think. She escaped in the middle of the night with nothing. I let her borrow a couple of my shirts until we could get her some clothes.”
“Oh.” He nodded slowly. “That makes sense.”
Clapping him on the shoulder, I remarked wryly, “Nice to know you think the worst of me.”
“Honestly, I didn’t know what to think. The girl you’ve been hung up on since we were sixteen suddenly walks back into your life, and you two aren’t exactly strangers to the whole sneaking around thing.”
“It’s different this time,” I vowed.
He offered me a tight-lipped smile. “I hope for both your sakes that it is.”
Me too, brother. Me too.
It was closing in on 1 AM when I pulled into Levi’s driveway, having followed him home from the airport. Climbing out of his car parked in the garage, he motioned for me to follow him through the door that led into the house.
With a quick stop to disarm the security system, we walked through the dark interior toward the only light coming from the family room.
Disappointment crashed into my chest when we found Arizona sitting alone, reading a book.
Her head turned at the sound of our approach, a smile touching her lips when she laid eyes on her husband. “You’re home.”
Levi moved as if he were pulled by a string toward Arizona. “And you should already be in bed.”
She hummed when he dropped a kiss on her upturned lips. “I missed you.”
With his forehead pressed to her, he let out a contented sigh. “Missed you too, baby.”
I cleared my throat. “Um, if you can let me know where to find Bridget, we can get out of your hair.”
Arizona pulled back from Levi, a flush on her cheeks. “Oh, she went upstairs a little while ago.”
Hitching a thumb toward the stairs, I asked, “You okay if I head up?”
“Sure. She’s in the room across the hall from Maisie’s.”
“Thanks,” I tossed over my shoulder, already jogging up the steps to the second floor.
Unsurprisingly, the door to the room Bridget occupied was locked.
With a gentle rap of my knuckles against the wood, I called out, “Bridget?”
No answer.
I tried one more time and still didn’t receive a response.
It was late; she’d probably fallen asleep.
But I refused to leave here without her. So, despite the stiffness that plagued my body after a game, I slid down the wall, assuming the position to stand—or sit, in this case—guard.
If protecting her while she slept was as far as our relationship ever went the second time around, I would take it.
Because that meant she was back in my life. And that was everything I’d ever wanted.