Chapter 12
Rebel Arena, Freedom
Eden
My arm is touching Robyn’s.
We’re in public.
After last night, I want to be holding her hand. But this…the brush of our arms, as we both lean against the boards of the rink and watch Shay and D’Angelo practice on the ice…is enough.
It’s everything.
I feel relaxed and comfortable in our relationship for the first time.
I didn’t realize how much I needed to feel that she wanted me in the same way that she does the other two men.
And she does.
Fuck, does she.
Last night, she made me feel…something.
A spark.
She’s dressed in a woolen fuchsia dress, her warmest coat, gloves, and sturdy boots.
I’m so aware of her that the hairs are standing up on the back of my neck. My skin goosebumps.
I push my gloved hand into the pocket of my long, gray coat, which hangs over my leather trousers, in an attempt to stop myself from reaching for Robyn.
A thrill of excitement rushes through me, as I lean against the glass.
I scrunch my nose at the smell of the arena. It’s the scent of my salvation: the bite of cold air mixed with sweat and rubber.
There’s a pain deep inside this time though.
It’s not my cracked ribs, or the deep throbbing of my temples that’s been growing worse over the last few days. I can barely open my eyes against the bright light of the arena.
I can cope with the physical pain. I won’t make the others worried with my shit. They have enough else to deal with, including that journalist who’s threatening them and the start of the season.
They’ve never been under this level of pressure before.
It’s Shay’s chance to shine but also potentially, to explode into a supernova and be destroyed into a black hole.
See, sometimes I listen to my brother’s geek talk.
The pain, however, is because I’m on the wrong side of the glass.
My real place on the ice with the Bay Rebels has been stolen from me.
I have no one to blame for it. The players who violently caused my concussion were assholes who deserved to get into trouble but they didn’t know about my history of head injuries and concussions.
They couldn’t know that they were ending my career.
I’ve had therapy, which I’ve struggle with, for years to untangle that nothing that happened to Shay and me as kids was our fault.
I can’t be angry at my biological parents forever.
I don’t even know their names.
Sometimes, life is just shit.
On the other hand, there’s always something precious, worth caring for, and protecting, even in the midst of that shit.
For me, it’s always been my twin.
Now, I have Robyn and D’Angelo too.
Yet seeing myself as a spectator who is separated by glass from the ice hurts like a bitch.
I grit my teeth.
This is strange.
Overwhelming.
Wrong, wrong, wrong.
It feels like ants are crawling beneath my skin.
“I’ve arranged a one-to-one later with the operations manager.” Robyn glances down at the file in her arms, which I helped her to organize, before breakfast. “Half an hour, and we’ll make our way there.”
“Good.”
I feel sick. My heart starts to pound.
I’m glad that my hand is in my pocket, so she can’t see that it’s shaking.
“It’s in Dad’s office, which you know,” Robyn says, casually. I know that she arranged it like that to support me. “The meetings are all one-to-one. I’ve started with the nice guys first, so that we can build up to the…”
“Dicks?”
“I’d have gone with assholes, but yep, that’s about it. It’s a well-known management technique. Start with the soft nuts and move on to the tough ones to crack.”
“Sounds painful.”
“Sounds like something D’Angelo would check on one of his kink lists.”
“In triplicate.” I pull my hand out of my pocket to count off on my fingers. “Signed, double checked, and filed.”
D’Angelo is the most thorough and organized man I know.
And I love filing.
My gaze darts back to the ice, when I hear Shay laugh.
What the fuck is he doing?
He shouldn’t be goofing around. This is practice time. He knows the rules of the ice.
If I was out there with him, he wouldn’t dare mess around.
I glare out at the rink.
D’Angelo leans against the far boards, watching Shay skate. There are deep shadows under his eyes. He looks exhausted.
He’s encouraging Shay, calling out the mix of criticism with an edge of praise that makes him the best mentor.
When D’Angelo catches my eye, he touches his fingers to his head in a mocking salute.
I ignore him.
Shay isn’t being the best mentee.
I scrunch my brow with concentration.
Shay sprints across the ice in a blur of sprayed ice. He’s fast and he makes it look effortless like always.
Yet I grew up on the ice with him; I know that he’s not pushing himself.
That’s not fucking okay. I’d be kicking his ass, if I was out there.
He’s distracted and showing off. I can’t tell if it’s for Robyn or D’Angelo.
I bet both.
I click my tongue.
“Shay,” I yell. My eyes are as hard as steel. “Concentrate.”
Shay’s gaze snaps to mine. He looks sheepish, and his smile fades.
He nods, before his expression becomes determined. He begins to skate with a new physicality and vigor.
Better.
Robyn shuffles even closer to me. “Wow, tough coach.”
I shrug. “The first game is on Tuesday. He needs to give one hundred percent. He shouldn’t slack off because he’s flirting.”
“He always looks mesmerizing on the ice to me. Who’s he flirting with?”
Can’t she tell?
I nod my chin at the two men who are now fully focused on their practice session. “They’re both distracted.”
“I mean,” Robyn watches as Shay skates past us, “your brother still looks better than ninety-nine percent of the other players in the NHL. No need to bust his balls. I bet that he’s still sore from last night. I’m impressed that he’s out there skating at all. It shows dedication. Anyway, until you barked at him, he looked like he was still glowing with whatever D’Angelo did to him.”
“He was glowing with thoughts about what he’ll be doing with you tonight.” I turn to give her a long look.
“What?” Robyn appears confused.
“It’s Saturday. His turn to take you on a date.”
It hits me then.
Robyn doesn’t understand.
She doesn’t know how excited Shay is about taking her on a date, enough to have woken me up at four a.m. because he couldn’t sleep and even agreed to go to the gym with me to get out his energy.
She doesn’t truly understand that he’s never had a true relationship before.
That he’s never felt loved in the same way that I haven’t.
We’ve only had each other.
Shay’s told her, but there’s a difference between hearing and understanding, deep inside.
Robyn smiles. “I’m looking forward to it as well. Should I wear my leathers? Is he taking me on his motorcycle again?”
She sounds hopeful.
But then, Shay fucked her over it last time.
I shake my head. “I can’t tell you anything else. He made me promise.”
She pouts.
Cute.
“Just dress warm,” I advise.
“Tease.”
I wish that she knew the impact she had on my brother.
The way that Shay’s face lights up when her name is mentioned, or how every morning he lip syncs to her, as she sings in the shower in the bathroom next to our bedroom, thinking up even more outrageous dances and trying to make me laugh.
How he wanders up to me, suggesting ways that we can all have fun together.
I’ve never seen him so happy.
I could spend my life with this new family of ours for that reason alone.
I bet that Shay only has one reason that he loves Robyn: She’s my sunshine, and I’m hers.
Of course, I have ten.
Last night, I thought that I’d burst into flames with embarrassment, when Robyn found my reasons on the piece of paper folded inside my book.
They were private.
Writing things down helps me to process them.
Feelings make more sense, when I see them in black and white.
D’Angelo realized that quickly. He allows a lot of our communication to be written or online.
I’ve slowly made a list, adding to it each day.
Ten Reasons I Love Robyn
She wants me as much as she wants my twin. I am not a shadow with her.
She makes me feel worthy.
She’s kind.
She listed all the ways that I’m more talented than my twin. I think she even believes they’re true.
She’s beautiful.
She makes me feel seen.
She loves and respects books. And cats.
She’s not abandoning me because I can’t play hockey anymore.
She’s smart and funny.
I can’t imagine a future without her in it.
I carefully copiedmy reasons into Robyn’s Guide under D’Angelo’s stick drawings. I signed my name underneath because it felt like a legal document.
Can you make your love official?
Robyn taps her file. “Hey, do you want to get a couple of photos here at the rink? I’ll add them to the Bay Rebels social media later. I’m building a different page for each of the players that fits their characters. They’re already building a big fan following. Your relaxed photographs from the kitchen have gone practically viral. The fans love them. You’re super talented.”
See, she believes that I’m talented.
Warmth unfurls in my chest.
I pull my phone out of my coat pocket. I switch it to camera. When I point it at the rink, my shoulders relax.
For the first time, I don’t feel like I’m separated from the ice.
The sensation of crawling ants subside.
Like this, I have a purpose. I’m in control.
I focus on Shay. His golden hair tumbles out of his helmet around his face. He looks intense and lost in his skating now.
He looks like he was born to do this.
I take the photograph.
Suddenly, strident voices disturb me, before I can take another photograph.
I frown, lowering the camera.
My breathing becomes ragged. My pulse spikes.
A crowd of men and women in designer power suits — who I don’t know — are striding toward us past the cold metal benches that line the ice rink. They’re looking at both the arena and D’Angelo and Shay like they own them.
I shove the phone back into my pocket and cross my arms.
“You said that the meetings were going to be held in coach’s room.” Betrayal and hurt flood me. I don’t let them show on my face. “Individually.”
“They are.” Robyn sounds panicked. “These are the assholes…the tough nuts. I don’t know why they’re down here right now. The guy with the silver hair and beard like Santa if he was a thin, ruthless, billionaire is the senior board member, William Bronwyn.”
“Who’s the man next to him?”
My breathing is too quick. I struggle to get my anxiety under control.
It’s like drowning.
“I don’t know.” Robyn stands in front of me, plastering on a fake smile. “But I don’t like the sneer on his asshole face.”
She takes a step forward, effectively blocking the crowd of board members and senior managers.
She’s a brave woman.
I should add that to my list.
Reason eleven.
“Down here to enjoy the practice?” Robyn smiles. It’s not the type of smile that she offers me. I can tell the difference. “As you can see, these two are so dedicated that they’re fitting in an extra couple of hours. The captain mentors all the new players and—”
“Hardly enjoying,” the man at Bronwyn’s side sneers in a pompous tone. My jaw clenches at his rudeness for cutting off Robyn. “It’s not dedicated to do your job. We’re working on the weekend as well.”
Robyn’s smile dies. “I see that. Sorry, we haven’t met.”
“Silas Anderson.” The man is in his forties, small and horse-faced. His ginger hair is neatly parted. “And you’re the coach’s daughter.”
Robyn’s eyes flash with anger. “I’m Robyn McKenna. You can call me Ms. McKenna. I’m not a kid and I don’t let myself be defined by the men in my life. I’d appreciate it, if you didn’t either.”
The crowd of management and board members are murmuring now and staring at her, but she holds her nerve.
Finally, it’s Anderson who backs down. “My mistake, Ms. McKenna.”
“Bronwyn.” The senior board member holds out his hand like it’s a weapon, and Robyn shakes it. “When was it that we last met? That charity thing for something or other in Pittsburgh that your husband was championing I think.”
Robyn’s lips pinch. “Ex-husband.”
Bronwyn’s eyes twinkle with a dangerous intelligence that tells me he knows exactly what he said. “Ex, of course. Such a messy affair, all over the news. Shame that it’s now involving our club. He’s suspended, isn’t he?”
“Not my business anymore. Only the Bay Rebels is.”
“And you.” Bronwyn turns to me with a sympathetic smile that doesn’t meet his eyes. “I know who you are, of course. How are you doing, son?”
I wince on the son.
I hate it when men call me that.
Hate it.
My heart hammers even harder in my chest.
“Fine, sir,” I answer, stiffly.
It’s hard to force my tongue to form words.
I can hear the whispers from the group.
…The kid who took the fall…the untalented twin…scandal…
I force my expression to blankness.
Bronwyn studies my sling that’s been signed like a cast by the entire team. “Looks like you have a lot of friends. That’s well signed. Look, I want to say that what happened to you was a terrible break. Hockey is a tough sport, son.” His gaze flicks to the rink, and he watches Shay, admiringly. Shay is slowly skating laps. Both D’Angelo and Shay are looking over at the crowd of people who’ve surrounded Robyn and me with concern. “Not everybody can be as natural a star as your brother.”
There’s a cold ball of ice in my stomach.
I feel like I’m shaking apart.
Yet there are flaming words in my throat.
I’ll be burned to death, if I don’t say them.
But silence…no comment…
It’s Robyn’s rule.
Robyn is looking at me now. I think that she’s saying my name.
“The Prince twin who hasn’t been a disaster is going to be a big money spinner,” Anderson is now explaining to the board members. “He’s handsome, which appeals to the female demographic and is good for both sponsorship and merchandise. The way that he scores, however, is the key. If we keep playing and winning games like this, then there’s a chance that the team can be saved on gate fees alone.”
“But we can’t afford any more…noise.” Bronwyn looks away from Shay to gesture at me. “The focus of this season needs to be the games that are won and not scandals, messy personal lives, and broken heads.”
That’s it.
My eyes flare. I step forward.
I’m going to break Robyn’s rule. I’m probably going to get us all in trouble.
Yet I have a voice off the ice now. I’m learning that.
And I’m going to use it.
I’m towering over all these men in suits.
For a moment, something like fear skitters in Bronwyn’s eyes.
“I didn’t fall.” My voice is low and hard. “I was attacked illegally on the ice, while playing for your team. My career was ended. That’s not noise. Players have real lives because we’re not robots. We’re not slaves. And I’m not your son.”