Chapter 17 Deacon
Deacon
PAST
The pressure to be perfect pushes at me. Maria being gone is a hole in our lives that we can’t fill. She took up so much space in our world. Her perfume, the sound of her shuffling around the kitchen, her gruff, smoke-ruined voice. The food that Vae has not managed to replicate.
Maria wasn’t the heart of our home; she was the foundation.
Her late-night talks with me are the reason I found the ice and why I aimed so high. I didn’t believe in myself, but she said to me, “What makes all those kids so much more special than you, Pan? Why can’t you be the one to achieve greatness?”
I didn’t have an answer for her then, and I don’t now.
I skate aimlessly around the ice, wishing she was here so I could tell her how much we miss her.
They are depending on me to keep things the same. To keep having fun, to keep us still laughing.
That’s what Maria would have wanted.
PRESENT
I explode onto the ice, trying to shove all thoughts of her out of my head, but it’s impossible. The puck is the one she bought me for my birthday; my stick is the one I taught her to play with. The ice is the frosty way she gets mad at me.
“Get your fucking head in the game, Katz!”
I snarl and refocus. The ice is blindingly white; the roar of the crowd is too loud.
Every skate that cuts up the ice is in a volume that I can hear in stereo.
Everyone is moving so fast, but I’m standing still, furious and frustrated.
I’m not getting anywhere, and I have never felt this disconnected to the game I love.
The Knotted Wolves are running circles around us.
I slam back into gear and chase after their centre.
He sends the puck spinning away, but they don’t have anyone to pass it to, so it comes back to him.
I line him up, put on an extra burst of speed, and when the puck comes his way, I shove him into the boards, holding him there, while one of my team steals it.
He shoves me off, his face red through the mask. He swings at me, hitting the side of my head.
The referee gets between us, the black and white stripes filling my vision. Vae brought home a picture of a black and white cat. She really, really wanted a cat, but we always said our lifestyle was too crazy.
Why didn’t I just get her a cat?
I skate back to the bench and sit down heavily beside Mal. He squeezes my thigh.
“What’s wrong with you?”
I shake my head. I don’t even know.
Vae is dancing with another alpha in my head. Over and over. She’s smiling up at him, and I hate it. I can’t stand it.
A hand smacks me in the back of the head. I whip around to rip into whoever did it and find Coach Wallace, who growls into my face.
“Whatever is wrong with you, put it away. We’ve got a game to play.”
I clench my teeth and give him a sharp nod.
Malcolm climbs over the boards, flying down the ice like it’s effortless.
He faces off against the Knotted Wolves centre.
The two of them crash their sticks onto the ice, the puck drops, and they collide, fighting.
The puck slides out, streaking across the ice.
It’s picked up, but I’m not paying attention.
The centre, Tobron Marshall, shoves Mal hard. Mal shoves him back. Tobron throws his stick and charges Mal, slamming him to the ice on his back. I stand up, roaring.
The linesman and refs blow whistles, but the fight doesn’t end. Mal and Tobron struggle, hitting each other as hard as they can. I make a move for the ice, but Coach Wallace grabs the back of my uniform.
“Don’t even think about it!” he snarls at me.
The team attacks the Knotted Wolves. It’s bedlam.
We lose 0-3. Of course, we do.
Malcolm had been pulled off the ice after the fight, taken straight down to the doc. I’m anxious to see him, but instead, I take a seat in the locker room, waiting while Coach Wallace walks in. He picks up a glove and hurls it at the wall.
The vein in his forehead throbs as he fights for control.
“Do you want to ever know what it feels like to win? Do you like being losers?”
I flinch.
“You want to see the entire team disassembled? The whole fucking Scented Scorpion dynasty erased by you in one damn season?” The coach roars.
“I bled for this team! I put in the best years of my life. I don’t expect you to show up and win every game, but show up with a bit of respect for the players who came before you, for the people who have serviced this club!
Respect the sticks you hold in your hand, respect your bloody teammates and, above all, you respect the game and the ice we all love.
Or get the hell out of my team now. Because I am done with this bullshit. ”
He turns and storms out.
The flat, sick feeling returns to my chest. I love the ice, and I really love this team.
I might not be the best team player, but, all my life, I’ve wanted to play for the Scented Scorpions.
It was my dream come true. It didn’t matter how much I had to sacrifice or how many hours I spent on the ice.
It was worth it.
Now it’s on the line.
And I’m losing Vae.
Everything is falling apart, and I don’t know how to fix it.
I’m directed straight into an ice bath. I wince as I slide my body into the icy water. No matter how many times I do this, the shock never gets easier. But now I’m in here with too many thoughts in my head.
The team is quiet. No one jokes around; no one really speaks. We do what we’ve been doing since we formed as a team; we go our separate directions. The hostility between us is a living beast growling in the background of every exchange we have with each other.
Being this close to this many alphas makes my skin crawl; it makes my temper sizzle. The stench of our scents fills the air, the glares we exchange, everything is a powder keg waiting to blow.
How can we change it? Every time I say I’ll be different, I end up back here, looking at my mistakes through a veil of regret and anger.
I grab my stuff and head out, but I don’t get far when I’m caught up by the journalists. They surround us, cameras flashing, questions coming in hot and heavy.
I smile at them and stick my finger up before pushing through the throng and leaving them to it.
In the car, I turn on the music and just sit in the dark, letting my thoughts run together. When did it all start going wrong? Why is she leaving? Why now?
I pull my hair and then hit the steering wheel over and over until my hand aches.
I check my phone and curse when I see a message from Mal saying he’s getting dropped off at home. The drive home takes minutes, or maybe I’m just that zoned out.
There are no missed calls from Indy, which is a blessing because I cannot deal with her tonight. I don’t know how to get it through her head that I hate the clingy, jealous behaviour. She’s pretty and a good fuck, but it’s getting to the point where her ugly is bleeding through her outside.
Her voice grates on me. Her perfume puts me in a worse mood than being in a locker room full of alphas.
I wearily climb out of the car and carry my bags inside. I need to figure out the washing machine. Eat something.
The house is quiet, but I find Raynor sitting in the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee. He sees me and goes to the fridge, pulling out a beer and sliding it across the table to me.
“Where’s Mal?”
“He’s in bed. Just bruises and a sore shoulder. I think his ego is hurt more than anything else. Losing the way you did tonight and the last time you played isn’t why people spend years training to get here.”
Those words hit harder than the coaches did. The beer is cold, but it’s not strong enough.
“No parties tonight. Maybe no more. You need to seriously look at what you’re fighting the team for, Deacon. You’re going down and dragging him with you.”
I sit silently, letting his words lash me. The bond is filled with his irritation, and I almost rise to his challenge, bringing the fight to an alpha who can handle me. I don’t quite have it in me.
Still, I bristle.
Raynor stands up and walks out of the kitchen before I can lob some bitter words at him that will turn this tense exchange into a violent clash.
For hours, I sit at the table staring into space. It was the way she was dressed; I decide. The gown hugged her; it changed her. I felt like a veil had been dragged back in my mind. I was playing before, but I’m no longer laughing.
This isn’t fun anymore.
I get up and go and stand in her room. There’s the faintest trace of something sweet in the air, something that is distinctly her. Mal is asleep on his stomach, his face buried in her pillows.
“What am I even doing?”
I walk out and almost bowl her over. I catch her by the waist, swinging her back to my chest. Is she really here?
“I was just thinking about you. And now here you are, like magic,” I murmur.
Her eyes flare wide. “You were?”
“Yes,” I slide my hands up to her shoulders and massage them. “I was thinking about you leaving and turning our lives all upside down.”
My temper suddenly flares into life. I drop my hands off her like I’ve been burned and walk back into the kitchen, then out the back. I stand on the porch and stare up at the sky.
“I saw the game.”
“Oh, were you there?”
There’s no disguising the bitter anger in my voice.
“Of course, I was there,” she says in a hurt voice. “It didn’t look like it went well. Do you want to talk about it?”
I shake my head. The last thing I want to talk about is my failure on the ice.
“How about we talk about the guy?”
She goes silent. “I don’t want to talk about him.”
“Why not?” I snarl, clinging to it simply because she doesn’t want to talk about it.
“Because it and he are none of your business.”
She walks off, but I’m not done, and I’m not okay with this. I follow her out the front to her car, where she pulls out a couple of bags of groceries and brushes past me.
“Stop and tell me!”
My voice has the edge of a bark, not enough to force her to listen to me, but a warning all the same.
She stops, her shoulders tightening. She doesn’t turn, just stands there, anger pouring off her.
I can’t let it go. I wish I could, a voice inside me is screaming to stop, but I’m so angry, so frustrated, so tense.
“Did you fuck him?”
I don’t even know where the question comes from. It just pours out of me, unleashing a tirade of poison.
“Coming back here was a mistake.”
My rage, the simmering river, ignites into fire, and I see red. It’s all snowballed, and now the door is ripped open, it’s coming out, whether I like it or not.