6. CONNOR
SIX
CONNOR
Parker Duchene owns me.
He owns me.
He owns my career, he has power over my life, and I hate it.
Especially because it’s like he’s trying to do everything he can to make me snap again. In public. So he can fire me with cause and put it all over the internet that I was his high school bully.
Just thinking that makes my stomach churn because I’ve made it my life’s mission to prevent bullying happening to my brothers. That act alone doesn’t make me a saint though. That doesn’t mean that I haven’t made mistakes.
Parker Duchene happens to be one of those. A mistake I’ve made twice.
Hearing that I made him an angry little man looking for vengeance, it really does reiterate what Easton thinks of me.
Overbearing.
Interfering.
Asshole.
When those words came out of Parker’s mouth, I wanted to get angry. I was close to doing what he’s trying to make me do and punch him out, but he was the one who punched me. Right in the gut. With words instead of his fist.
I couldn’t even stop him while he walked away, and I stood there for a good five minutes before heading to the bar, where I am now.
Coach wanted me and East here because he knew we wouldn’t drink. As fun as being here sober sounds, I need something to settle my insides.
They’re upside down and twisted, and I wish I could say it was Parker Duchene’s doing, but if I’m really honest with myself, this all started when Easton asked for a trade to get away from me.
His own big brother.
Parker’s right. I deserve everything he has in store for me. Unless I can give him a heartfelt apology that he believes.
And to do that, I’m going to need alcohol.
A lot of it.
I order some whiskey and drink it down immediately, and then order another with a wine for my date. She’s about as interested in being here with me as I am with her, but when I’d asked around the locker room if any of the guys knew anyone who would want to go on a last-minute date with a hockey player to some bullying charity event, Munter said his sister Alice was a teacher and would love to come to a benefit like this.
She doesn’t like hockey players because she grew up with Munter—enough said—and Munter would kill me if I hit on her, so while she’s technically my date, it is definitely a no go.
I stay at the bar for a moment after the drinks are placed before me, trying to compose myself to somehow get through this night without letting Parker get to me.
That is no doubt going to be impossible, considering he’s already under my skin.
I’ve just about plucked up the courage to go back to our table when a hand lands on my shoulder. I jump so high, thinking Parker’s back for verbal sparring match round two, but it’s only my brother.
He orders a Coke and then stares down at the glass of dark liquid in front of me. “Tsk, tsk, big brother. Won’t that be bad for your image?”
Yeah, yeah, taste of my own medicine and all that other bullshit. “It’s either this or threaten to kill our owner again. This time, where everyone can hear.”
“I understand why he’s doing this to you, but at the same time, he needs to be able to let it go. Have you apologized yet?”
“I tried! He didn’t believe me.”
“Well, did you mean it?”
I hang my head. “Not really.”
Easton laughs. “Set your ego aside and go give him a genuine apology. Or are you still not sorry?”
“I’m sorry he had a hard time in high school? Does that count?”
My brother makes that annoying game show buzzer sound. “Wrong answer. That’s not an apology. That’s an ‘I’m sorry you’re hurt, but it wasn’t my fault’ apology. Try again.”
“I’m sorry I’m the first one to use his last name against him and that everyone else followed, and now he hates me when I barely?—”
Easton puts up his hand. “Nope again.”
“You’re annoying.”
“Can’t be too annoying. Duchene doesn’t seem to have a problem with me.”
No, he doesn’t. I’m still not convinced Parker wasn’t hitting on East when he cornered him in the locker room, but I also don’t know why I’m so angry if he was.
Back in high school, when I saw them together, I thought I broke them up to save my brother’s image. What if there was something else? Deep down? Maybe Parker Duchene is one of those souls I don’t mesh with.
Instant hatred .
I know I need to apologize for real, but being wrong is new to me.
No, admitting I’m wrong is.
I down my second whiskey and then drink Alice’s wine as well. “I need to go find him. I know what I’m going to say now.” I think.
“I feel like I should stop you there,” Easton says.
“What? Why?”
“What are you going to say?”
“That he’s a bigger man than I ever will be, and he shouldn’t waste his time on a selfish jock like me.”
Easton side-eyes me. “Do you really believe that?”
“Yes.”
“Con. Is this because of our fallout? Because I called you impossible?”
“I believe you used the word ‘unbearable,’ but … maybe. I’m obviously a shitty human. I just drank my date’s drink.”
“Come back to the table, listen to whatever speeches and crap they have coming up, dance with Munter’s sister—but make sure your hands stay above the waist—and then tomorrow, before the game, if you still want to spout that crap to Duchene to see if he’ll buy it, then go for it. But right now, you’re too down on yourself to really be able to do anything genuinely.”
Easton’s probably right, but I hate this in-between crap. I still don’t know where I stand with the team, with my position, and I have no idea what else Parker has in store for me. He said he wants to make my life a living hell, and he’s off to a great start. If I have the chance to fix this and fix it now, I’m going to take it.
“I’ve got this.”
I walk off to the sound of him mumbling something about looking forward to only having one brother from now on.
Please. As if Duchene will kill me. He likes torturing me too much for that. Keeping tight-lipped about me manhandling him, pretending he didn’t remember me in high school, and now sending me here to a charity against school bullying.
I have to admit, as vengeance, it’s a pretty good plan because it’s impossible to anticipate what’s coming next.
Parker is mingling with people I don’t know, standing off to the side of our table like he stood to greet whoever they are. I don’t want to interrupt, but at the same time, he looks like he would rather be anywhere but talking to them, even if it’s with me, so really, I’m doing him a favor.
I put on my PR-trained smile, my charming voice, and say, “I’m so sorry to interrupt, but Mr. Duchene is needed.” I take Parker’s arm, and I can tell he’s trying hard not to pull his arm out of the socket to escape my hold. “Hockey emergency,” I say. “You know what us hockey players are like. All limbs and no brains.”
Parker snorts. See, already off to a good start.
But when I actually drag him away and pull him into an alcove outside of the ballroom on the way to the bathrooms, he loses his professional facade.
“I’d be tempted to thank you for dragging me away from that conversation with those guys who want me to invest in a startup that will never get off the ground, but I have a feeling this conversation will be just as futile.”
“Here is my genuine apology, and also, you’re welcome.”
He cocks a dark eyebrow.
“You’re probably not going to like this one either,” I continue, “but it is truthful, and it is genuine. I can promise you that.”
Parker shifts his weight from one foot to the other and folds his arms. “Go on, then.”
I take a deep breath. “I can’t ever understand what it was like for you in high school, but I do know that my actions hurt you. For that, I can be sorry because that was never my intention. My only intention that day was to get you away from my brother. I didn’t mean to hurt you, but I know that doesn’t matter because the bottom line is I did. And for that, I’m sorry.”
He looks contemplative, and I think for a second he’s going to forgive me, but he’s hesitating. He just needs that little push. That little bit more. And even though East says it’s not a good idea, I go with exactly how I feel.
“That stupid teenager who acted before he could think grew up to be an asshole. I don’t know how to be anything else. I haven’t changed, and I think I’ve proved that. I am not worth your effort. You don’t really want to be this guy, do you? Bitter? Vindictive? You bought a team so you could torture me? Don’t you want to … let it go?”
And okay, with the way Parker’s features turn into a glare so deep I worry it can actually penetrate my body and choke me, I’m guessing Easton was right.
In a turn of events, I’m not the one to lose my cool this time. I’m not the one pinning him. He’s doing that to me.
I’m taken off guard, and my feet stumble, but then he pushes me again, and my back is more solid against the wall.
My body responds, itching for a fight, to maybe shove him back and reverse our positions and gain the upper hand. To be in control of this situation. But I am not in control.
I’m far from in control.
“Let me get one thing perfectly clear here,” he growls. “I did not buy this team for you. You’re right that you’re not worth my time, but just so you know, I don’t give a shit about you.”
I can’t tell if he’s trying to get a rise out of me so I’ll fight back and then force his hand or if he really hates me so much that he’s trying to convince himself he doesn’t care. “If that’s the case, why are you bothering to make my life hell? Why are you making me so paranoid that every time I enter those back corridors of the practice facility or the arena, I’m going to be sent packing. You have the power to upheave my whole life, and you’re holding it over my head. Tell me again how you don’t give a shit about me.”
“Maybe I’m teaching you a lesson.”
“I’m a slow learner. What am I supposed to be learning exactly?”
Parker pushes off me and backs up. His skin is flushed, and he’s breathing heavily. “That sickly feeling you get walking into the arena? That fear of being traded or put on waivers with the threat of the potential to change your whole life? Picture now if I actually did it, only worse. Picture how it would feel to have everything change because of one decision I make. One split decision to tell someone in the league that you’re the hardest player to work with, you’re uncooperative, entitled, and even got physical with me.”
“You’re that pissed off over high school you would ruin my whole life?”
“Don’t you understand? That’s exactly what you did to me. My life was hell. I braced myself every time I walked down the hall. I had no friends. I had nothing other than my love of techy things. All because of you.”
“Oh, then I’m so sorry I gave you the opportunity to hone your skills and become a billionaire. So, so, so, sorry,” I deadpan. Part of me is warning myself to shut up, but the other part of me is leaning hard into self-destruction. How does it make me feel? Fucking horrible. I can’t even let myself think of this feeling lasting for years. The difference is I don’t know if my life will ever get better, but Parker knows how his story turns out. Being rich and successful is what everyone dreams of.
“If you think money buys happiness, I don’t think you’ve ever been truly happy a day in your life.”
He walks away from me again before I can stop him. Only this time, I don’t have an argument. Because he’s right.
When I think of everything I have, all I can see is a brother who resents me, parents who put a lot of pressure on my shoulders growing up, a career that could be taken away from me at any moment, and Knox—my best friend. Who now belongs to my brother.
I have nothing, and I have no idea what happiness looks like for me.