Chapter 17
Rebel Arena, Freedom
Robyn
I wring my hands together in my warm gloves, pacing the side of the rink. I try to ignore the roar of the crowd, chatter of the commentator, and the bite of cold air mixed with sweat and rubber.
I really try to ignore the bank of journalists and photographers from the press.
I’ve been deliberately not catching Melanie’s eye for the last couple of hours.
This is the opening game of the season against the Dallas Stars, and every seat in the arena is filled.
The atmosphere is buzzing.
Have I ever been at a game with this level of both pressure and excitement?
It’s electric.
No one expects the Bay Rebels to do anything but lose.
Yet the score’s 4 — 4.
They could truly win this.
It’s the start to the season that the Bay Rebels, Dad, D’Angelo and Shay need.
It’s the start that myths are made of.
The crowd are cheering every time that the Bay Rebels gain the puck.
They’re going crazy, every time that the players make a shot on goal.
And by players, I mean D’Angelo and Shay.
They’re on fucking fire.
They’ve scored twice each.
Five minutes left…
My heart is beating fast. I’m shaking with adrenaline.
I watch a Bay Rebels dark haired defenseman, Atlas, shut down an attack by the Dallas Stars, stopping them from scoring.
“Yes!” I yell.
It’s so close. It’s a tough game.
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. I turn my head to take a deep, sniff of his sweet, vanilla scent.
It’s comforting.
I hated leaving Eden behind, but despite his protests that he was fine (I’m not going to believe that again any time soon), the memory of him collapsed over the desk, while my heart almost burst through my chest in terror, made me firm my determination that he couldn’t come out to the arena.
He’ll be watching from his place on the couch in Captain’s Hall.
“You’re thinking about the twin again.” Neve nudges me with her elbow.
I rub my arm. “Ow.”
If there was a sport called elbow nudging, Neve would be an Olympic Champion.
Underneath her open military style floor-length coat, she’s wearing what I’m coming to call her game night Emo t-shirt:
SPOILER ALERT: I DON’T CARE.
I bite my lip, as D’Angelo passes the puck to Shay.
They’re totally in tune with each other.
They’re like a fucking machine.
It doesn’t matter who scores. They’re doing this together.
They’re doing this for Eden.
For me.
For the whole of Freedom.
Neve nudges me again.
“Double ow.” I still don’t look away from the rink.
“The virgin twin who you fucked, rather than the one who’s everybody’s fucktoy,” Neve whispers.
“Neve,” I hiss, hushing her.
I glance around myself, hoping that no one’s overheard.
“I could be talking about the Addaman twins.” She smirks.
“That’s worse. The Addamans are in their nineties and assholes.”
“Hey, don’t be ageist or anti-asshole.” Neve gives me a long look. “And don’t avoid my question, Robyn Hood. I’m right, aren’t I?”
I sigh. “Of course I’m worried about Eden. It was fucking terrifying to see him pass out and… It reminded me of Mom, you know?”
Neve’s expression gentles. “Yeah.”
My chest is tight. I focus on the blur of players who are battling it out on the rink.
Three minutes…
“He’s so hard to read. I’ve never met anyone like him. He’s stoic and acts like nothing’s hurting him. But just sometimes, he’ll tell you something and…”
I shudder, thinking about what Eden admitted, after Michael had checked him out medically.
I have the feeling that Eden told us mostly for his brother’s sake, as if he wanted us to know that Shay was more broken than he pretended.
It’s like he felt obligated to make sure that we knew enough to be careful of Shay without realizing that D’Angelo and I are going to be just as careful with him.
D’Angelo exchanged a troubled glance with me.
If D’Angelo was protective of the twins before, he’s a hundred times more now.
I’ve never seen D’Angelo and Shay being as fierce and fearless together on the ice as they’re being tonight. Perhaps, the trust that they’ve shown each other over the last few days has connected them in their play.
The crowd are going wild for them.
I glance to my right, watching Dad who’s standing by the benches to get the best vantage point and view. He’s dressed in a smart black suit with the team’s official tie.
My eyes narrow, when I see Silas and Bronwyn flanking him like the hockey mafia.
Dad is animated as he watches the game, gruffly shouting and waving his arms.
Silas’ lips are pinched. But Bronwyn is smiling.
My shoulders are tense, however, with nerves.
A draw isn’t enough.
We need to win.
Two minutes…
“Eden’s English.” Neve shrugs. “Just give him some tea, talk about soccer, and make sure that your humor is dry, ironic, and sarcastic.”
Actually, that’d work.
D’Angelo weaves around the rival players toward the goal.
My mouth dries, and my hand instinctively rises to touch the golden pendant of a jersey that lies around my neck. My guys gave it to me because our relationship is a secret but they still want me to have something of theirs to wear during games.
I smile as I trace over the pendant.
“Anyway, Code and Mike are over at Captain’s Hall, keeping Eden company and checking that he doesn’t collapse again from all the excitement.” Neve crosses her arms. “The most that will happen will be that he’ll collapse from boredom. Mike will feed him hummus and drone on about old guy shit like classical music and the rising cost of insurance.”
“The horror.”
What would Neve think about D’Angelo’s piano concerts for us in evenings? She’d probably categorize them under her boring old guy shit.
What would she say about D’Angelo’s classic car?
I know that one.
I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from telling her because there’s a ceasefire between my best friend and D’Angelo…but that’s it.
“Huh, did you stick something into their asses to get them to skate that fast and score like this?” Neve studies the way that D’Angelo is barreling toward the goal with serious intent. Then her expression becomes dangerous. “Try ginger for the second game on Thursday.”
I wince, and my asshole clenches in sympathy. “Thanks for the figging tip. I’m sure that D’Angelo will be even more grateful.”
See, only a ceasefire.
I can’t look away from D’Angelo. He looks unstoppable.
An ice god and his prince.
One minute…
Can D’Angelo do it?
“I’m actually going with positive reinforcement as a motivator.” I don’t look away from the ice. Shay is on the other side of the goal to D’Angelo, backing him up. The atmosphere is charged. “They’ve both scored two goals so far. Whoever scores the most over these opening three games gets to choose to share with me one of their…”
I glance over my shoulder.
These phone calls and texts from Melanie have made me paranoid.
I snatch Neve’s hand between mine and use our trick from high school, when we wanted to talk about how much of a dick a teacher was being in front of them or what guy had the tightest ass in the middle of English without anyone knowing.
Perhaps, I can understand now why the teachers separated us in most lessons.
I spell out the word on her palm: KINKS
Neve’s eyes widen, before she turns to the glass and begins to holler, enthusiastically, “Come on, Shay. Get your ass into gear. Eyes on the prize!”
He glances over for a moment, before to my shock, starting to skate even faster.
D’Angelo passes Shay the puck.
My heart is my mouth. My pulse is racing.
Please…
Shay raises his stick, aiming at the goal.
If he scores, Bay Rebels have won.
He shoots…
And he scores.
“Yes!” I scream.
The crowd bursts into applause, as the siren sounds, ending the game.
Neve fist pumps. “Kinky for the win.”
I let out a choked sound, struggling to stay standing.
They did it.
They’ve won the opening game of the season, and the world has seen that the Bay Rebels are no longer losers.