Chapter 10
Isla
An insistent buzzing yanks me out of the best sleep I’ve had in months.
I fumble around on the side table for my phone, a difficult feat when my eyes remain shut, my face buried in a pillow. Before I can find my phone, the buzzing stops. I let out a sigh of relief, ready to slip back under, but then my phone starts again.
“Fucking hell,” I groan.
This time, I force myself to roll over and use my eyes to find the phone. The name flashing on the screen sobers me up quickly, and I push into a sitting position on the bed. Parking lot terrorist.
“Hello?” I croak, my voice coated in grogginess.
“Oh, thank God,” the voice on the other end says through a relieved sigh. It’s not a sound I’d ever thought I’d associate with Wes as it pertains to me. “We’ve been calling you for the last fifteen minutes.”
We? I put the phone on speaker and scroll through my missed calls, a mix of Spencer and Wes’s phone numbers. Still, his impatient tone grates. Wes Davidson has no place in my life. Okay, sure, technically, he’s a boss of sorts, but I’m not working today.
“I was sleeping. What’s going on?”
“Hey Isla,” Spencer’s voice comes through the phone clearly like he snatched Wes’s phone from him.
“Wes and I are out of town, and Thea got into a fight at hockey camp. She needs to be picked up, and you’re one of the few people she knows in town.
I wouldn’t bother you with this if I could reach someone else. ”
With Spencer not available to train today, I planned to relax, settle in, and work out at the condo gym later. But if Spencer needs me, I won’t turn him down.
“I’ll head out now and text you once I’m with her.”
“You’re the best,” Spencer says, relief in his voice. “Thanks, Isla.”
I throw on some clothes and brush my teeth and hair quickly. I grab the keys off the table, about to leave, when Brooks strides out of the kitchen, disheveled from sleep. His floppy blond hair falls into his eyes, and he brushes it away only for it to fall back again.
“Hey, I,” Brooks says through a yawn, rubbing a fist into one eye. “Everything all right?”
“With me, yes, but Spencer needs my help with his niece, so I’ve gotta run. Not sure when I’ll be back.” It dawns on me that I have his keys. “Shit, do you need your car?”
Brooks’s eyes narrow. “Since when are you the person that he calls for help?”
“She doesn’t know that many people in town, but we’ve met before, and I guess Spencer trusts me enough to ask. I don’t know. I didn’t ask many questions. They seemed panicked.”
“They?”
“Yeah, Spencer and his brother.”
“His brother.”
“Are you going to repeat everything I say?”
“The one who damaged my car,” Brooks clarifies. He wasn’t bothered about the damage to his car, which, in hindsight, wasn’t as big as I originally thought.
“Not the point. My new partner needs my help. His niece got into a fight and she’s all alone right now and—”
“I’m coming with,” he says as he slips on a sweatshirt.
“You don’t—”
“Isla.” I know better than to argue with that tone, full of love and protection. He snatches the keys from my hands. “I’ll drive.”
Brooks and I arrive at Wes’s rink ten minutes later. I look for Thea, but don’t spot her on the ice with the hockey camp, on the bench, or in the stands. It takes a few moments for one of the coaches, who are all on the ice and dressed in hockey uniforms, to notice us standing by the bench.
The shorter one elbows a tall, bulky guy, but he shoos the guy off and continues to focus on the kids playing hockey. The shorter one tries again, not-so-discretely nodding in our direction.
The taller one blows his whistle. “Water break,” he shouts in a Russian-accented voice before taking off in our direction, his fellow coach on his heels. He has the number 42 on his shoulder and the word “Wolves” stitched across his chest. “You’re here for Thea Davidson?”
“Alexei Volkov, right?” Brooks says. “I thought that was you.”
The other coach sprays ice onto Alexei as he comes to a stop. “Hey man, I thought we were going over here together.” He waves at us. “I’m Zach Briggs. We’re guest coaches this week at camp.”
Alexei pushes Zach’s hand down, no trace of amusement on his face.
“I’m Isla Covington, and this is my brother, Brooks. We’re picking up Thea because her uncles are out of town. What happened? Is she okay?”
“She decked someone.” Zach grins. “And it was awe—”
“Let’s talk over there,” Alexei cuts in, stepping off the ice and heading deeper into the tunnel.
“Hey, Princeton?” Zach calls to the guy standing by the bench, shooting water into his mouth from a green and orange bottle. Zach bounces on his skates as he asks, “Can you hold down the fort?”
The guy—Princeton—runs a hand through his hair. He looks like a Ken doll, with absurdly bright blue eyes and thick blond hair. “I have no idea how I’ll manage without you, Briggsy, but I’ll do my best,” he deadpans, to which “Briggsy” gives him a thumbs up.
Alexei stops after about ten paces, far enough away that the team can’t hear us. “Thea got into two fights today.”
“Isn’t punching, like, a core hockey skill?” I ask.
Zach snorts. “It’s the first one you learned, right, Volk?”
Alexei doesn’t take Zach’s bait, focusing his attention on me with a seriousness that reminds me of being called to the principal’s office. “Not at this level.”
“Was it unprovoked?”
Memories from my teenage years flash behind my eyes, the glee on the faces of my classmates as they mocked my body for being small and slight. No tits. No ass. And her face doesn’t make up for it. They never knew that it got to me because I refused to let it show.
“She won’t talk to us about what happened, and none of the other kids will share the details. We brought her into the locker room to defuse the situation.”
“Is the person she punched okay?” Brooks asks.
“He’s fine,” Alexei replies, gaze flicking over to the bench.
I cock an eyebrow. “She was the only one removed from the ice?”
I wonder if this situation would be handled differently if Thea was a boy. I’m sick of double standards. My sometimes abrupt attitude in post-competition press conferences wouldn’t land a man with a reputation of being cold, aloof, and obsessed with winning like it did for me.
“I told you it was a bad look,” Zach says out of the side of his mouth.
Alexei’s withering stare shuts him right up. “She was the only one pulling punches,” he explains.
Brooks nudges me in the side, knowing exactly where my mind has gone. It’s how I know to rein in my emotions. He has my back in every situation but doesn’t hesitate to give me the truth when I need it. And I don’t know the full story of what happened here.
“Thanks for…managing the situation,” I say. “We’ll go get her.”
Alexei points over us. “The locker room is—”
“I know where it is. I train here. I’m a figure skater.”
“My girlfriend is a gymnast,” Zach says proudly, an excited smile blooming across his face. “Finley Harris. She’s kind of famous. Not, like, famous-famous, but she’s—”
Alexei puts a hand on his shoulder. “Zach.”
“Right. Sorry. I’ve been told I talk about her too much.”
Well, that’s so cute I want to vomit. I’d always wanted that level of support from my partner.
“If it doesn’t bother her, I wouldn’t worry about it, dude,” Brooks says.
I bump into Brooks’s side. “Since when did you become a sap?”
Brooks puts his hands on my shoulder. “Excuse my sister, she’s anti-love.”
“What? No, I’m not,” I protest as Brooks begins to lead me away from the guys.
“Anyway, thanks again,” Brooks calls over his shoulder. “Go Wolves.”
I maneuver out of Brooks’s grip, tell him to wait about ten feet from the locker room, and head inside. Thea is sitting on the bench, still in her hockey gear, scrolling on her phone. She looks up, eyes red-rimmed. I want to throttle whichever one of those jerks hurt her.
“Isla?” Her tone is flat, emotionless.
“Hey, Thea, you all right?”
“Fine.”
I gesture to the seat beside her. “Mind if I sit?”
She shrugs.
“I guess you know why I’m here,” I say.
She nods, lowering her phone to her lap. Progress. “I figured my uncles would send someone because they’re out of town helping my grandpa.”
“You wanna tell me what happened?”
She crosses her arms over her body. “No.”
“Fair enough. I hate talking about my feelings.”
“Did Uncle Wes sound mad?”
I shake my head. “No. Both of your uncles were worried about you.”
Thea rubs her palms into her eyes and sucks in a deep breath. “Uncle Wes pays for my hockey stuff. My mom doesn’t think I know. He hides it, too. He’s weird about that stuff.”
I place my feet against the locker in front of me. “What stuff?”
“Money and helping out. He does a lot for my mom, but they pretend that he doesn’t. I don’t know, it’s like he doesn’t want the attention or something. I think my mom gets embarrassed.”
A million questions flood my brain, all centered on a certain man I shouldn’t think about at all. I’m about to change the subject when Thea speaks again. “I hope he doesn’t want to stop helping me.”
The sentiment punctures my heart. “He wouldn’t do that.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I would yell at him,” I reply, flashing a dazzling, overconfident smile. “And you’ve seen how that goes.”
One side of Thea’s lips lifts. “I’ve never seen someone make my uncle so mad before. Like, ever.”
“I find that hard to believe.” I stand up from the bench. “Come on, let’s leave.”
Thea and I exit the locker room to find Brooks leaning against the opposite wall. He pockets his cell phone and waves to us.
“Who is that?” Thea whispers the words, awe lacing her voice.
Right. The Brooks effect is still in full force. My life has been filled with nauseating moments, watching people lose their minds over him.
“The force of nature that is my brother.” Once we’re closer to him, I do introductions. “Brooks, this is Thea. Thea, this is my brother, Brooks.”
“Hey, Thea.” Brooks sticks his hand out for a fist bump, which she shyly takes him up on. “Must’ve been cool getting to meet some Wolves players.”
Thea tucks her hair behind her ear. “Yeah, especially Sawyer Jennings. He’s my favorite. He showed me how to do a better body fake.”
I tune out Brooks and Thea’s conversation as we leave the building, focusing on texting Wes and Spencer an update.
Me: Leaving the rink with Thea. She’s okay.
My phone dings immediately with a text from the Davidson brother who seems to walk on air.
Spencer: Isla Covington, you are a lifesaver. How long can you stay with her?
Me: If you’re good with me skipping my workout, I can stay as long as you need
Spencer: I’ll do double with you tomorrow
Spencer: Thank you
“Your uncles won’t be home until later tonight. Brooks can drop us off, and I’ll hang at the house with you,” I tell Thea, glancing at her in the rearview mirror.
“Okay,” she mumbles, staring out the window, her chin resting in her open palm.
I’d be miserable being pulled away from my sport, too, and she has no idea when she’ll be able to go back. I’d like to think that Wes wouldn’t come down too hard on her when she’s clearly struggling. The boy I knew would lead with compassion and understanding.
But I have no idea if any of that boy remains in the man he has become.