Chapter 10
PERRY
It was interesting, with Evan sitting next to me in the bar, his leg hopping and his hand gripping mine tight, watching the Olympic team’s dynamics after the game.
After the points had been tallied, as tradition dictated, we bought them all drinks because that’s how it went.
Winning team bought the losing team drinks.
While the game itself had ended in a draw, we’d had the upper hand in points because it had taken us more ends to get our points than it had them.
Kinda sorta winning on a technicality was enough to decide who bought the drinks.
“It’s because you always have to make the glory shot,” one of the Darren brothers complained. He was a bit tipsy and Channing frowned at him.
“It’s because they’re very good curlers,” Channing said, his voice low and steady as he raised a glass to our team. “It was a good game and a good match.”
I nodded. “Thank you. The feeling is mutual.” I noticed he didn’t bother to correct the twin that he hadn’t made the glory shot, but the practical one that won them the day, even if it didn’t give them the game.
Both Darrens snorted and tossed back their shots.
“Perhaps it’s time we called it a night,” Channing suggested, setting down his half-drunk beer. “We still have a medal match to play tomorrow.” He turned a hard gaze on the twins. “You’ll both want to be at your best, as Cameron discovered tonight.”
“Whatever,” Jason mumbled, getting to his feet. “See you back at the hotel.”
With that tossed over his shoulder, both brothers sauntered out of the bar without looking back.
Channing sighed. “Don’t mind them.”
“Sore losers are never a lot of fun,” someone from one of the other teams said.
“Proud losers,” someone else corrected. “I hope our guys beat them.” As soon as the words were out, the guy slapped his own hand over his mouth.
“Sorry,” he said through his fingers, then dropped his hand.
“I just meant them, not you guys.” he motioned between the three other team members. “You three are all right.”
Channing chuckled and saluted him with his beer. “Thanks.”
“No, I just meant—”
“I know what you meant. And I do understand the sentiment.” His gaze drifted from the guy to our team. “We’ll see what happens.”
“Just that I don’t love the idea of the Darren twins representing me at a world event like the Olympics,” the guy went on.
Channing said nothing but his expression was speculative.
With his gaze mostly on Evan, I tried not to imagine what he might be speculating about. I tightened my grip and glanced at Evan.
He was practically vibrating in his seat.
I got why. He’d been grounding me all night. Not our usual dynamic, and now he needed me to pin him down and reassure him I was fine. Which I would be happy to do, and the sooner, the better.
“Ready?” I asked him.
Part of me wanted to hang around and see what else we might learn about the other team. Maybe see what I could learn about Channing himself. I could see that thought flash through Evan’s mind too, as if it was glowing in neon over his head.
In that moment, I didn’t want to ask again if he was ready. I wanted to lead him out of there as badly as I’d wanted to lead him out of the party way back when.
He’d followed me then, no questions asked. But what if he wasn’t as eager to follow me now?
Even as I had the thought, he popped to his feet. “Yeah,” he blurted. “Let’s go.” And it was me, following him out this time.
I heard Channing’s chuckle as we retreated.
We’d barely made it to the parking lot before someone shouted my name, and we both turned.
Maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised to see the twins approaching out of the dark, Andre lurking in their shadows. But it had been a long day. I wasn’t prepared for a confrontation.
“Seriously?” Evan muttered under his breath, putting himself between me and them.
“Dude, what are you doing?” I stepped up beside him and took his hand.
He grinned at me, half sheepish, half cocky. “No idea.”
“Perfect.”
“You guys know you aren’t going to beat us tomorrow, right?” one of the twins said.
I shrugged but said nothing.
Evan snorted.
“I don’t even know why we’re playing this rinky-dink tournament,” the other one added.
I had some small consolation watching Andre’s face cloud at the implied insult to his tournament, but the twins had crowded too close so I had to ignore him.
“If it’s so rinky-dink why does it matter who wins?” Evan challenged.
“You really want to make your Olympic team look bad?” the first asked.
“You play a clean game, play your best game, win or lose, what’s bad about that?” Evan sounded like he genuinely wanted them to answer the question. Like he didn’t see any issue, as long as the game was fair and well played, who cared who won or lost?
“Jesus Christ,” the first twin muttered. “We come to some north of nowhere little shit town and the locals beat us, and you don’t think that makes us look bad? We’re the fucking Olympic team.”
“Actually,” I put in, sidling forward, “no one is the official Olympic team until after the Trials next November, so at best, you’re the Olympic hopefuls.
And Ev’s right. You play a clean, fair game tomorrow and that’s all anyone is going to care about.
It isn’t like anything that happens here matters in the standings anyway.
You’re the one who pointed out it’s rinky-dink.
Doesn’t change anyone’s numbers. People will see you came, you played, everybody had fun and walked away happy. ”
The second twin, the one I thought was not who we had played, full-on growled at me. “It matters if you win and make us look like fools.”
“No one is making you look foolish but you.”
I was not expecting him to actually swing at me so I didn’t duck. His fist contacted my cheekbone, and motherfucker, that hurt. I staggered and crouched, arms up in case he came at me again, but my head rang and the pain blurred my vision.
Of course, Evan didn’t give him the chance at a second shot, putting his body between me and them.
It wasn’t even a scuffle. The guy’s brother grabbed his arm and yanked him back with a hiss. “Bro, what the actual fuck?”
Andre squeaked and disappeared into the dark like the fucker he was, but I wasn’t going to complain about one less person standing over me.
Evan roared at them, his own hands clenched tight, but my guy was smarter than to throw back. He stood there, being menacing and loud, while the twins stumbled over their own feet as they backed away from us. The one who had hit me cradled his hand.
When they were out of reach, Evan spun to me, dropping down to cup my face. “Baby. Are you okay?”
“Fucking no.” I batted his hand away from my left cheek, which had begun to throb.
“Did he break you?” He hovered, trying to get his hands on me and simultaneously not touch me. The resultant arm-waving made me dizzy.
“Fucking no, he did not. Hope he broke his goddamn hand, though.”
The twins were shouting now, and when we looked over, it was to see them screaming at each other. It was their commotion that drew people out of the rink to find out what was going on.
Channing and Robbie were the first ones out, quickly taking in the scene, and coming over to me where I was sitting on my ass on the cold pavement.
“What happened?” Robbie breathed, lifting my face with a finger under my chin. “Shit. Who—?
“Jason Darren,” Evan spat. He was wringing his hands now, his face screwed up with anger, but his gaze on me was anxious.
He was losing his shit and I was in too much pain in that moment to help him.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Channing muttered under his breath.
“You.” He tapped Robbie’s shoulder. “Get him inside and sit him down on a fucking chair, please.” He pointed at me as he spoke to Robbie, then turned his attention to my boyfriend.
“Evan, go to the bar and ask for ice and a clean cloth, yes? Can you do that?”
Relieved at having a clear directive, Evan nodded and dashed off.
“Thank you,” I whispered to him, not wanting to move my face too much.
Channing nodded. “I’ll be in shortly to check on you.”
“I’ll be fi—”
He pursed his lips and squinted.
“Sure,” I said instead. “Thanks.” And I let Robbie take my elbow and lead me back into the building.
Thankfully, Robbie didn’t ask me to explain what happened as we made our way to the bar and he sat me in a corner, out of the more brightly lit areas.
Evan was there instantly, kneeling between my legs and so gently touching the cloth-wrapped ice to the side of my face. “Sorry I ran off like that,” he said quietly. “I—”
“No, baby, you’re good,” I assured him, taking over placement of the ice. “Thanks for this.” The cold was a welcome distraction from the pain, and I touched Evan’s cheek. “Thanks for stepping up like that.”
“Probably could have taken him,” he muttered.
I chuckled, then winced. “Good you didn’t. Let it be their fuck up.”
“They should get ejected from the tournament,” Robbie fumed.
“Who?” Shaw asked, coming over. “Shit, dude. What the hell?”
Darby eased Shaw, then Evan, out of his way and crouched in front of me. “Can I take a look?” he asked.
I moved the ice and he turned my head by my chin to angle my face toward the light. “I’m going to gently touch your cheek. I need to confirm there’s nothing broken. It will probably hurt.”
I nodded. “Do your worst, Doc.”
He smiled grimly and proceeded to torture me with feather-light taps along my cheekbone, and the bridge of my nose. “Can you move your jaw?”
I proceeded to open and shut my mouth and waggle my chin back and forth. It hurt like hell, but I figured if anything was actually broken, I’d be screaming on the floor, so that was probably good.
Finally, he nodded and backed away. “Nothing seems to be broken, so that’s good.” He set his hands on his hips and his face into a scowl. “I should order you to go get X-rayed, but that would require a trip to emerg.”
I groaned.
“And hours and hours of waiting,” Robbie said.