Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Rebel Arena, Freedom
Robyn
“Dad has held D’Angelo and Shay hostage in his office for two hours.” I march furiously up and down the shadowy corridor.
Dad’s irate voice bellows from behind the door of the office like it has from the moment that he dragged the entire team there after the disaster of a game.
Except, the rest of the team were let go after only half an hour of having their asses kicked. D’Angelo and Shay, on the other hand, are still shut inside.
I’m surprised that Dad’s voice isn’t shaking the door.
“Two hours? It’s not long for Dad.” Cody leans tiredly against the corridor wall.
He has deep shadows underneath his eyes and appears to still be standing by willpower alone.
He has been working since early this morning with the players, preparing for game night.
It worries me how hard Dad has been driving him, period.
“Don’t you remember that infamous Christmas he kept my presents hostage for an entire month, until I confessed? ”
My chest becomes tight.
I rush to Cody, resting my hand on his arm because I do remember.
I remember my younger brother’s tears on Christmas morning, when his presents were ceremonially placed in a trash bag by Dad. Cody cried, clinging to my arm. Then Dad grabbed him by the neck, dragging him to watch, while he hid them away in the attic.
Cody hadn’t been allowed to open a single gift.
He hadn’t even known what he’d meant to be confessing.
It hadn’t been the first time Dad had played that cruel game with him.
Cody wildly tried confessing to every crime he could think of through his tears, simply trying to get his presents back.
Trying to prove that he wasn’t naughty and deserved them like I did.
He was so distraught that he wouldn’t share my presents, despite me trying to encourage him to open mine alongside me.
My brother spent the remainder of Christmas Day and the vacation grounded to his room, being punished for make-believe misdeeds.
It took him almost a month of that game, before Dad decided that Cody had confessed to the right thing and finally allowed him to have his presents.
By then, any magic of Christmas had worn off. Cody refused to play with any of his toys, stuffing them to the back of his closet.
“I don’t even remember what you were meant to have done,” I say, quietly.
“The funny thing is,” Cody’s jaw clenches, “neither do I, sis. Probably because I invented so many things, trying to work out what Dad wanted me to say. I’ve never known that with Dad.
It wasn’t about the toys. Don’t you remember how he wouldn’t talk to me in that month either?
He ignored me because I was a bad boy. It was his affection that he held hostage. His time and attention.”
I swallow.
In his grief after Mom’s death, Dad neglected both of us. But he made as much time as he could for me.
It was Cody who he abandoned.
“He can’t treat you like that anymore,” I insist.
“But he can punish me in other ways. I thought that he couldn’t but…” Cody breaks off like he wants to say more but is holding himself back.
My heart shatters
“Code…” I encourage, softly.
He shakes his head. “Let’s focus on your poor guys now, huh?
I sent Eden home because he was at level four and needs rest. If these games become more of a stress for him, then he’ll need to watch them at home, rather than attend them.
I know how much that will kill him. Also, the two in there being screamed at because one was sent to the sin bin and the other didn’t lead his team to victory against your asshole ex… ? How do we get Dad to back off them?”
“They had to face Wilder with no warning,” I reply through gritted teeth. “Dad shouldn’t be blaming them for what happened. This fucking ends now.”
Cody whoops. “The McKenna siblings to the rescue.”
I turn round, storming toward the office door.
Unfortunately, I stumble, as the heel on my boot breaks.
A jolt of pain flares in my ankle.
I blush.
So much for my dramatic entrance.
“Woah.” Cody grabs my arms. “Are you okay?”
I nod, waggling my ankle to check that it isn’t injured. “Nothing broken but my pride.”
“I guess you can hop intimidatingly into the meeting.”
I lift up my foot. “Oh, fuck it.”
I pull away from Cody, dragging off my broken boots. I fling them with a sense of liberation down the corridor.
Cody’s eyes widen. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, sis, but I’m not a jock like your guys. I can’t carry you in there like D’Angelo would.”
D’Angelo definitely would.
“I don’t need you to.” My feet are cold against the hard floor. “I’ll be bare footed — sock footed — with confidence.”
Cody arches his brow. “In those pink, fluffy unicorn socks?”
My blush deepens. “I was rushing this morning and grabbed the nearest pair. They were a joke present from Neve.”
Cody nudges me with his shoulder. “I’m not judging. Neve bought me the same joke gift. I love mine. I wear them in bed to keep me warm. Mike is less keen on them.”
I grin, before deliberately taking my brother’s hand in mine.
Dad has always hated us holding hands.
He believes that it means Cody isn’t being a man.
But fuck Dad.
I don’t bother to knock, pushing down the handle and striding into the office.
Dad breaks off mid-sentence and stares at me in shock.
Then his gaze narrows as he takes in how I am holding Cody’s hand. “What do you two want? Why didn’t you knock? I said that I wasn’t to be disturbed.”
Dad is seated on a leather chair behind his large desk.
Flatscreen monitors hang on the walls of the office. I wince, when I notice the stills from the game: each failed play, fumbled shot, and Shay’s fight.
D’Angelo and Shay are both standing, pale and exhausted in front of the desk.
I can tell by the way Shay is leaning on D’Angelo for support, hunched to the side, that his hip is hurting. He was knocked repeatedly into the boards over the course of the game.
Shay should be back at home being cared for by me, not being chewed out by Dad for hours.
How is that going to help?
Cody hisses out a sharp breath.
He breaks away from me to rush to Shay. “Is your hip hurting? And your shoulder? Let’s go and take a look—”
“Stop,” Dad barks. “I’m in the middle of a meeting here. Out.”
Instead, I pad further into the office, throwing myself down in the seat in front of the desk.
D’Angelo arches his brow at my shoeless state. I wiggle my unicorn socks at him defiantly.
Dad sighs, as Cody ignores him as well, drawing Shay to sit in the other free seat.
“Slip off your sweater for me. I want to visually check your shoulder first, okay? Do you mind doing that here? We can go somewhere more private?” Cody suggests.
“I’m not leaving my captain to face the bloody music, when I’m the one who started a fight out there.” Shay achingly slowly struggles out of his sweater.
“And don’t think that we won’t be talking about that later,” D’Angelo says, coolly.
Shay winces.
It’s one of our agreed upon rules that Shay not become violent on or off the ice.
What the hell did Wilder say to Shay that made him lose control in a way that he hasn’t for months?
I try to ignore the bruising on Shay’s cheek, along with his swollen eye.
I need to stay focused on standing up to Dad, when I’m boiling with the same rage to punch Wilder in his smug face for doing this to Shay’s beautiful face.
“Have I become invisible? Am I not talking loudly enough?” Dad leans on the desk.
“No one could ever accuse you of that, coach,” D’Angelo replies.
“Don’t become cocky,” Dad growls. “We’re all here, rather than in our beds fucking sleeping, because you couldn’t hold it together on the ice.”
“You’re wrong.” My eyes flash. “They’re here because my psycho of an ex was on the ice when we never expected him to be. You talked about extra security, but after what happened last time, we need more than standard security.”
“How about a buddy system?” Shay grits his teeth, as Cody crouches in front of him, gently feeling over his bruised shoulder. “Something where both staff and players look out for each other, while those bastards are around.”
“How about you get your heads in the game and stop being such a bunch of pussies?” Dad huffs. “Are you going to throw away your shot at victory and this team’s legacy because you’re terrified of one man?”
“A man who abused and stalked your own daughter.” D’Angelo’s voice is frosty. “Who secretly filmed and blackmailed us, while attacking us on the ice. The captain who has shown that he will use dirty tactics.”
My throat tightens.
Are the Penguins a real threat? Not only in hockey but to our lives?
Are they involved in the death threats that the Bay Rebels have been receiving?
I bite my lip.
Will I make things worse if I admit to the death threats now? Suddenly, my phone feels heavy in my pocket.
“A man who hates and hazed D’Angelo,” I add.
“Suck it up.” Coach’s stern stare settles on D’Angelo. “You’re not a college kid anymore. You’re the captain of a pro team who rely on you to take charge. Or am I wrong to trust that you can keep it together for the sake of your teammates like a fucking man?”
D’Angelo fiddles with his cuff links. “No, coach.”
Dad finally relaxes in his chair.
For the first time, I notice how tired he looks. His suit is crumpled, and there are deeper wrinkles around his eyes than normal.
But then, it must be gone midnight.
“Good because the board are all over my ass on this one. I want revenge for my daughter too. Fuck this guy being your rival. Use that energy to destroy him but you do it without playing into his hands. Understand?”
D’Angelo nods.
His gaze meets mine, however, and it’s troubled.
“Now, are you going to finally tell me what chirp that dick whispered that made you break your promise to me not to fight?” Dad demands.
So, that’s why he’s kept Shay here for hours, interrogating him.
I can’t help glancing at Shay. I’m intrigued to know as well.
Shay flinches. But then, his expression shutters.