Chapter 22
TRISTAN
E verything sucks. Especially me. On the ice, I’m a mess. I keep missing easy shots, fucking things up during practice. Three times Coach Vander Zee has pulled me aside to ask if I’m okay. The answer is no. I’m not okay. I’m miserable.
I miss Bea. There’s a physical ache in my chest that won’t go away, and it makes me edgy. It reminds me of how I felt when my family fell apart.
And everything is worse because Flip still isn’t talking to me. Bea has been gone for five days, and it’s been nearly two weeks since he found out. I’ve been sleeping on the couch in Roman’s room during away games because I can’t deal with the tension. When we’re home, I hide in my room.
We’re scrimmaging today. Tomorrow, we play Philly for the first time this season. I’m not on starting line. That’s not a surprise, considering the way I’m playing. And the tension between me and Flip is bleeding onto the ice.
I’m only half paying attention as the puck comes my way during practice, and I’m not taking stock of my teammates, which is admittedly terrible form.
I snag the puck before it passes and spin around, heading down the ice.
But Flip is right there, so I slam into him, knocking him down.
I should offer him a hand, but I’m pissed that he walked into my bedroom and fucked everything up.
If he hadn’t found out, Bea would still be in the loft, and the empty, gaping hole in my chest wouldn’t feel so fucking huge.
He scrambles to his feet and shoves me. “The fuck is wrong with you?”
Coach Vander Zee blows the whistle, but I’m already in Flip’s face. “You got in my way.” I’m not really talking about on the ice, though. The hit was completely my fault.
“I got in your way? Are you even paying attention to what’s going on around you? Or are you so fucking self-absorbed that you do whatever you want without considering the goddamn consequences?” He tosses his stick aside.
“Everything was fucking fine until you got in the way!” I shout, sending my stick flying as well.
Yeah. We’re not talking about the game at all.
Coach blows the whistle again.
Dallas tries to get between us, but we grab each other’s jerseys, elbowing him out of the way.
“I got in the way? I got in the fucking way? You’re the one getting in your own goddamn way!” Flip yells.
“That’s rich coming from you!” I shout back.
Roman skates over and pulls us apart. “This argument doesn’t belong on the ice.”
“What the hell is wrong with you two?” Coach looks to Roman. “You know what this is about?”
“I have an idea.”
Flip’s eyes flare. “You have an idea? You knew what was going on?”
Roman gives him a withering look.
Coach blows his whistle again. Shrilly. Two feet from my ear. “You two shower and change. I want you in my office in twenty. Roman, you go with them and make sure they don’t kill each other.”
I don’t argue. I head for the gate and Roman follows, Flip muttering behind him.
“I can’t believe you fucking knew, and you didn’t tell me,” Flip snaps once we’re in the locker room. He removes his pads, flinging them aside.
“That you didn’t know says more about your priorities than anything, Flip,” Roman fires back.
Flip frowns. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means if you were actually paying attention to something other than yourself, you might have clued in that there was something going on! I haven’t looked at anyone else since Bea moved in with us, dipshit.” I toss my pads on the bench.
“You’ve been lying to me this whole fucking time!”
“No, I haven’t.” Not once has Flip asked me who I’m fucking.
“You were sleeping with my sister behind my back the entire time she lived with us!”
“That’s not the same as lying,” I argue. Which is idiotic. I knew it was wrong, but I did it anyway. And kept doing it.
“You betrayed me!” He points a finger at Roman. “And you kept his dirty little secret.”
“Well, considering your reaction, it seems like I made the right choice.” Roman crosses his arms. “I get that you’re upset, Flip, but you need to step back and get some goddamn perspective.
I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Tristan is a fucking mess.
He’s playing like shit, he looks like shit, he’s not eating, and he’s been walking around for the past week with a black cloud of doom hanging over his head, doing a solid impression of Eeyore. ”
“Thanks, man,” I grumble.
“I’m trying to help you out, asshole,” Roman snaps, then turns back to Flip. “Do you really think, if Tristan didn’t give some sort of a shit about your sister, that he would be this upset about whatever the hell is going on?”
“He’s upset that Rix moved out and he can’t get into her pants.” Flip storms off to the showers.
Roman shakes his head. “You two are idiots.” He scrubs a hand over his face. “Get your shit together, Tristan.”
He’s right. I’m in this predicament because I can’t be honest with myself about my feelings for Bea, let alone anyone else. But that doesn’t give me a way out of it.
I shower and change, and Flip and I get chewed out by the coach.
Flip throws me under the bus and tells him I’ve been sleeping with Bea behind his back.
Coach tells us to keep our personal lives off the ice and deal with our shit.
If I can’t, I’ll end up on second line for more than just tomorrow’s game.
Flip and I ignore each other in the locker room and leave the arena separately.
I can’t deal with being home. Everything about the condo reminds me of Bea.
She left half a bottle of her lotion in the bathroom—it fell behind the garbage can—and I routinely sit around sniffing it, wishing she hadn’t moved out.
So I end up going for dinner with some of the guys at our local watering hole, including Dallas, Roman, Ashish, and Hollis.
It’s the one place we can go and no one makes a big deal about our presence.
My appetite is for shit these days, but I order food anyway, hoping I’ll feel like eating it when it arrives.
I miss Bea-made meals. I miss Bea period.
Hollis gets a salad with cucumbers, and I barely resist the urge to yeet it across the room.
“So you and Rix, eh?” Dallas chugs a glass of water. “Can’t really say I’m all that surprised with the way you two look at each other.”
“Which is how?” I ask.
Ashish offers his perspective, “Like no one in the world exists but her.”
“I honestly can’t believe Flip didn’t see it,” Roman muses.
“He’s too busy getting laid to pay attention to anyone or anything else,” Hollis says. He checks his phone and composes a message before setting it facedown on the table. “It’ll be easier for him to get over it if you give him a reason to.”
“I don’t know what that means,” I tell him.
He doesn’t have a chance to answer because Flip appears. The smile slides off his face. He points at Dallas. “Fuck you.” He aims the double bird in my direction and spins around.
Hollis grabs the back of his shirt before he can go anywhere.
“You two need to sort your shit out, and we’re here to moderate.
” He slides out of the booth and forces Flip in before he takes his spot again.
Flip is stuck between Hollis and Roman. And I’m sandwiched between Dallas and Ashish, so I can’t go anywhere either.
“You assholes orchestrated this.” I glare at Roman.
“You two got into a fight on the ice during practice. Your personal drama directly impacts this team. We have a home game tomorrow night against Philly, and last season they handed us our asses. If they get wind that there’s dissension in the ranks, they’ll use it to their advantage.
So yeah, we orchestrated this little chitchat,” Roman snaps.
“And as much as I appreciate being on the starting line, I don’t need the added stress that you two are going to fuck our game if you end up on the same line later in the game,” Hollis adds.
“I like the nachos here,” Ashish says.
“I’m mostly here because I wanted the dirt on this little development,” Dallas admits.
“But Hollis and Roman are right. You two need to solve your problems, and we’re here to make sure you don’t kill each other in the process.
We can’t have two of our best players suspended this early in the season. ”
“Flip, I understand you’re upset, but you and Tristan have a lot of years of friendship under your belt,” Roman says. “Before you go throwing it all away, maybe you need to talk this shit out.” He motions between us.
Flip glares at me, and I stare at my half-empty beer. Guilt is heavy on my shoulders. I shouldn’t have gone behind his back, but he wouldn’t have understood. And now I’ve lost Bea, and I stand to lose my best friend. It’s the worst possible outcome.
Roman huffs. “Tristan, maybe you can start by apologizing for keeping your involvement with his sister from Flip.”
“We’re not involved anymore, thanks to him,” I spit. Being angry is better than being hurt.
“Thanks to me? You were sleeping with her behind my back for two months!”
“I don’t understand how you didn’t notice, Flip,” Ashish muses.
Roman sighs.
Dallas shakes his head.
“Why is it Flip’s fault that you’re not involved with Rix anymore?” Hollis asks.
“Because we said it would end when she moved out. And when Flip found out, he was a real fucking asshole about it. Bea shut down, and I didn’t know how to make it better, so now she’s living with Hammer.” I mean, the last part is pretty damn obvious.
“I think I have a right to be pissed off. She’s my little sister, and you hid it from me.” Flip tries to cross his arms, but he doesn’t have enough room.
“What could we say? Hey, Flip, hope you’re cool with us sleeping together? We didn’t even like each other to start with. We drive each other up the wall! Drove each other up the wall. Past tense.”
“If you irritate each other so much, why did you end up sleeping together? Repeatedly?”