Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Rebel Arena, Freedom
Robyn
“Keep calm,” I whisper, as much to the men on the ice as to myself. “Don’t fucking freak out.”
My eyes burn with tears. I struggle not to let them fall. I can’t allow them to.
My skin crawls with the sensation of the press’ cameras focused on me.
It’s the opening home game of the Conference Finals against the Pittsburgh Penguins, but I’m not filled with excitement, only dread.
How has this happened?
I wring my hands together in my warm gloves as I pace by the side of the rink.
I try to ignore the roar of the crowd, chatter of the commentator, and the bite of cold air that is mixed with sweat and rubber.
I pull my long, woolen coat around my emerald dress, glad for the scarf that Eden wound around my neck before I left for the game.
It’s one of Eden’s gray scarves. The one that I always steal for games; it’s become my own sport superstition. I turn my head to take a deep, sniff of Eden’s sweet, vanilla scent to comfort myself.
The crowd should be buzzing. But instead, there is an unsettled air. Every time a certain player receives the puck or shoots at goal, the home crowd chants: Shame, shame, shame.
I’m proud of them for their solidarity against that player: Wilder.
The liar, bully, cheat.
My stalker ex-husband.
Also, the captain of the Pittsburgh Penguins who is meant to be suspended under investigation for serious charges.
Instead, he’s on the ice.
This is a fucking disaster.
I stumbled in shock, when I first walked hand in hand with Eden past the metal benches toward the rink and saw Wilder doing warmups on the ice.
I paled.
My breathing became erratic. My brain froze.
Wilder looked like a Viking.
He was a mountain of a man with champagne blond hair that fell to his shoulders, which he has always been even more vain about than his beard that he groomed for hours.
“What in the fucking hell is that asshole doing here?” I hissed.
Wilder’s gunmetal blue eyes locked with mine.
Then he winked.
I jolted. My cheeks reddened with rage.
Eden growled, jerking forward like he was ready to smash through the glass to attack Wilder.
“Don’t,” I warned. “He is trying to provoke you. He’ll do the same to Shay and D’Angelo. We’re screwed.”
I knew exactly how my men were going to react in a game facing this asshole without time to prepare.
How were they expected to calmly face someone who had abused and stalked us?
They were playing the most important games of their lives, and their focus was fucked.
Was this the Pittsburgh Penguins’ secret plan all along?
Wilder’s?
He played mind games.
Plus, he has had a vendetta against D’Angelo since college. The bully was jealous of his teammate’s talent and the way that he was praised.
To a peacock like Wilder, being made to look average by a legend like D’Angelo, who was only a scholarship boy, was something he couldn’t forgive.
It was why he lied about D’Angelo to ruin our friendship.
Was he now trying to take away his chance to win the Stanley Cup for the same reason?
No fucking way.
I clasped at the gold pendant of a jersey, which D’Angelo and the twins had given me. I tightened my hold on Eden’s hand. Then I tilted up my chin, defiantly.
I wouldn’t let my asshole ex think that he could intimidate me.
This was my arena.
Wilder was the jerk who didn’t belong here.
I swung around, searching for Dad.
He was standing with crossed arms by the stands, glowering at Wilder with his emerald eyes like he could incinerate him with his glare alone.
Furious, I marched up to him, pulling Eden with me.
Dad sighed when he saw me approaching, as if I was about to dive headfirst into battle.
He held up his hand like a shield. “I know what you’re going to say.”
“I didn’t realize you were that multi-talented, Dad. Have you trained as a professional psychic as well now?”
Dad’s silver hair and beard were neatly styled. He was dressed in a sharp charcoal suit with a green shirt and tie.
“No need to backtalk me,” Dad barked. “I’m just as pissed that Wilder fucking Talon is out on that ice.
As the Bay Rebels’ coach, I have strongly put in my protests.
Swapping Wilder in like this last minute is a dirty trick.
I know D’Angelo and Prince well enough to guess the impact it’ll have on them.
The dumbasses will give up penalties for fighting and cost us this game. ”
“Are you seriously trying to blame our players?” I narrowed my eyes.
“If they freak out, it’ll be because they’re facing someone who they never should have to be.
Plus, I shouldn’t be standing here…” About to throw up all over his shiny shoes with nerves.
“…because of the shock of facing my ex with no warning. What can we do?”
Dad shifted from one foot to the other. “Nothing.”
“Wait, what?”
“Don’t you think that I rang everyone I knew the moment I found out?
That I cornered their asshole coach? I know the guy.
I didn’t think that he’d pull this. But the wider investigation against Wilder collapsed.
Other players were too frightened to testify or withdrew their statements.
They thought that it would hurt their careers.
Wilder’s golden public reputation is tarnished, but behind the scenes in private, he still holds power.
The dicks only hit him with a ten thousand dollar fine. ”
“That’s pocket change to Wilder.” Stunned, I shook.
Dad shrugged.
“The system sucks. Nobody knows that better than I do. Do you want to know the real reason I think the investigation failed?” He leans closer. “The Penguins have a shot at winning the season. Their board didn’t want to throw that away by screwing over their captain. He wins their games for them.”
“We won’t let him. But you knew about this before I walked out here to the rink.” I ducked my head. “Why didn’t you at least send me a message in the chat and warn me?”
Dad huffed. “I didn’t raise my kids to be snowflakes. You’re over him now, aren’t you? You have a new relationship. I’ve alerted security. The asshole won’t get near you.”
“He already has.”
Dad turned away. “I don’t have time for this.”
“This,” Eden’s quiet words sounded unbearably loud, and Dad flinched, “is the hurt of your only daughter.”
Dad swung back to Eden, poking him in the chest. “Don’t become involved in my family business.”
“I am family.” Eden’s eyes darkened.
Dad turned away dismissively. “For now.”
It’s almost three quarters through the game, and it’s a nightmare.
The game itself is brutal. This is war on ice.
Yet the score is 2 — 0.
Shay and D’Angelo have barely managed a shot on goal. Zach, on the other hand, has been wildly defending goals.
If not for Zach’s incredible effort, the Penguins could have scored at least another five times.
The fans are trying to help as much as they can, cheering every time that the Bay Rebels gain the puck.
But D’Angelo and Shay are both off.
They are frustrated, angry, and unfocused.
Worse, they are being targeted by Wilder and his teammates. Every time either of them is brutally checked against the boards, part of me dies.
My heart is beating fast. I’m lightheaded.
Would it make for a terrible headline — and photograph in the papers — if I bent over and hurled?
Suddenly, Eden’s arms are curled around my back, pulling me away from the glass like he heard my thought. He cradles my face against his chest to hide me from the cameras.
“If you need to puke, you can do it on me,” he offers.
I weakly chuckle. “That’s a large sacrifice, when I know how much you love this suit.”
“I love you more,” Eden says with earnest seriousness.
I imagine that he has a list somewhere, probably written down in that moleskin notebook of his that he also loves, of his ranked favorite things.
Now, I know that I am his number one, tied with Shay. I imagine D’Angelo is tied with cats and tea.
Closely followed by suits and stationery.
Although, arson may be higher.
I raise my head and peek across the arena at Cody, who is standing next to Noah.
Cody’s expression is tight with a protective rage. He has barely glanced away from Wilder.
I think it’s a toss-up whether Wilder has more to fear from Eden or my brother right now.
Cody catches my eye and smiles at me, however, sympathetically. He tilts his head, pointing at himself.
I know that he’s offering to come and stand with me.
I love that he wants to support me, but Dad is watching.
Dad is already giving my brother a hard time. Cody is working tonight, and Dad will hand Cody his ass for any slip ups. Dad has really been on his back. It would be better for him to stay with the medical staff.
I shake my head.
Then I tap Eden’s chest, as if to say that Eden has got it.
Cody’s expression softens. He trusts Eden the most out of my partners.
He nods, reassured.
“Silas is here.” Eden’s voice is cautious. “He’s standing with the other board members on the stands.”
“How does he look?”
“Pissed.”
Shit.
I glance at the rink, as Atlas struggles to shut down an attack by the Penguins, only supported by Lucas.
To my relief, Atlas stops the Penguins from scoring.
Wilder, however, steals the puck. His long blond hair flies out from underneath his helmet.
Then he checks Grayson, who was closing on him, hard enough to spin him into the boards. The glass rattles.
Wilder is a dirty player, who uses the advantage of his physical strength to beat other players into submission.
Yet both Shay and D’Angelo are more talented: an ice prince and his angel.
They should be skating rings around Wilder.
Except, their focus is on the man and not the puck.
And that’s their mistake.
Wilder skates with infuriating confidence toward the net. He smirks, catching my eye.
Suddenly, I am flooded by memories of our luxurious but cold penthouse, where Wilder isolated me away from my friends and family.
Of long nights eating cold pasta alone because he didn’t come home, canceling plans or pretending that he had extra practice.
Later, I discovered that he was out cheating with other women.
Of the expensive jewelry that he gave me on my birthday that I never wore, which he asked his secretary to pick out for me.
Of how he smiled and flattered, while destroying my self-worth.
How I put my career on hold to support him, while he pursued his ambitions.
How the asshole failed to make me come for six long years.
The abusive dick hazed and bullied D’Angelo, my best friend, without me knowing. I would never have fallen in love or agreed to marry Wilder if I’d known what he was doing.
He poisoned my friendship with D’Angelo with lies, when D’Angelo loved me from the day that we met. He loved me in a way that Wilder would never understand.
A narcissist like Wilder could only love himself.
D’Angelo, Shay, and Eden are the exact opposite of my ex-husband. They have shown me that relationships can be equal with everyone having their different needs met, while remaining independent.
I never thought that I would find a way to feel free, while also being loved.
The Bay Rebels reaching the Stanley Cup Final is D’Angelo’s legacy. It’s Shay’s hope of blazing onto the NHL scene. It’s the only way that we can save our Bay Rebels family from falling apart, as well as our town from economic ruin.
I won’t let a man like Wilder take it away from us.
I’ll find a way to support my men.
Wilder is pulling back his stick, as if to score.
My heart is in my mouth.
Suddenly, D’Angelo and Shay, in a breathtakingly skillful move, set on Wilder in a pincer attack. They tackle the puck away from him.
“Yes!” I twist around in Eden’s arms.
A rush of excitement runs through the arena.
D’Angelo passes Shay the puck.
Shay skates toward the goal with the first real determination in the game.
I hold my breath.
Please.
Instantly, however, Shay is blocked by two defensemen, and before he can find a way around them, Wilder is checking him harshly into the boards.
I wince, when Shay hits his hip with a sickening crunch. He shields his head.
“I’m going to kill him,” Eden growls.
Wilder should truly watch out.
My hands clench. My guts churn.
Then my eyes narrow in suspicion, as Wilder leans in and whispers something.
It must be a chirp.
Shay rears back; his eyes are blazing.
Shay has his demons. From the beginning, he has been mentored by both D’Angelo and coach on his anger issues.
Wilder has just played him.
When Shay’s gaze darts to me, my heart sinks.
The chirp must have been about me.
I shake my head. “Don’t…”
“Don’t you dare…” Eden says at the same time.
Shay has already thrown his stick down on the ice, however, and is tearing off his gloves.
D’Angelo is desperately skating over the ice toward him, but it’s too late.
Shay is about to have his ass kicked in a fight with Wilder.
Just like Wilder wanted.
Shay is going to cost the team penalties and end up in the Box of Shame himself, even though the crowd are chanting shame at Wilder, as he drags off his own gloves.
I tremble with powerlessness, unable to stop the Bay Rebels throwing the crucial first game.
When I dare to glance at Dad, he is screaming at the players through the glass. His cheeks are red with fury.
My breath stutters.
No matter how hard Shay’s ass is kicked by my ex-husband, Dad will kick it harder after he loses this game.