Chapter Twenty-Four
Cooper
Owen’s Jeep is parked in the driveway behind Talon’s truck when I pull up to the hockey house, which means at least two of them are here.
I let myself in and head into the kitchen to find all of them there. Owen stands at the stove, cooking something. Talon is seated at the island, and I’m surprised to see Kade here. His girlfriend, Willow, was supposed to be in town, and they were planning to stay at their family lodge this week.
The two have been doing the long-distance thing. I don’t know how he can do it with only seeing her for short stints at a time, but they’re making it work, and he seems happy with her.
Owen looks up first. “You look rough.”
“It was a long night,” I say, dropping my keys on the counter.
Talon studies me for a second. “What happened?”
“Well, for starters, I was on my way back from the farm, and I ran into Brinley. Her car died. She was pulled over on the side of the road with her hazards on.”
“You ran into her? Didn’t she call you?” Kade asks.
I shake my head. “She was waiting for Caleb to show up and tow her.”
Owen turns around now. “Something happen between the two of you? She seemed upset or in her head at the party last night.”
Wren pads into the kitchen now, joining us, and climbs up onto the stool next to Talon.
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you guys about.” I drag a hand over the back of my neck. “Coach pulled me into his office after the game.”
That seems to get their attention.
“For what?” Kade asks.
“Not my shoulder,” I say. “Not the game either.”
Talon’s eyes sharpen. “Brinley?”
I nod. “He told me to stay away from her. Spewed some bullshit on how he won’t have rumors or attention around his program, how actions have consequences. Then tried to spin it like he’s looking out for my career. Right before he let it slip that he’s been watching her.”
Owen swears under his breath. “Seems a little suspicious after what happened in the alley behind the bar, wouldn’t you say?”
I lean back against the counter, staring at the floor, and nod. “I was thinking the same.”
“Have you talked to her?” Wren pipes up. “The reason I ask is because she kept looking for you to show up at the party. She was checking her phone every few minutes, like she thought you’d message her.”
I wince and shake my head. “I haven’t told her what Coach said. I messaged her before I went into his office. Said I’d call her when I was taking off. If he really does have eyes on her, I knew he’d be waiting for me to run to her.”
Kade studies me. “Do you think she knows he’s been watching her?”
“I don’t know.” That’s the worst part. “She’s been staying out at the farm, but she packed up this morning and was moving to the loft above the bar again. If he’s behind what happened in the alley, it’s not safe for her to be there.”
Owen turns off the stove and plates his omelet, then turns to face us. “So what do you want to do?”
I look at them. I didn’t come here with a plan. I just knew I couldn’t sort through this shit on my own.
Kade chimes in. “Well, for starters, I would talk to her landlord. What’s his name? Dave? I’d talk to him about putting up a camera behind the bar and maybe another light too. If it were Willow in that situation, I’d be…” He shakes his head, not finishing the sentence.
“He’s right,” Talon adds. “If she won’t stay at the farm where you know she’s safe, at least talk to him. Did she even tell him what happened? You’d think he’d want to do more to keep his employee and tenant safe.”
Talon has a point. I make a mental note to stop by the bar to talk to Dave before we head out on the road for our next game.
Wren chimes in next. “Maybe you should reach out to Reed too.” She turns to Talon. “See if he could help. Didn’t you say that he was the one who uncovered him having a daughter? He might find something if she just transferred to Rixton.”
Talon nods slowly. “She’s got a point.”
Kade adds, “And if he’s hiding something, you know he’ll find it.”
Talon leans forward slightly. “If Coach is going to threaten you, you might as well turn the tables on him. He has to be hiding something if he is so worried about another headline being written about his program.”
“Did he say that to you?” Owen asks.
“I chalked it up as him not wanting the word to get out about him having a daughter he paid to disappear.” I shrug. “He doesn’t want anything tarnishing his reputation.”
The mention of headlines and rumors takes me back to last year. It got ugly. We came close to Talon losing everything he had worked hard for because he and Wren chose to drag her father’s mess into the light.
“If he’s hiding more, we’ll get to the bottom of it,” Kade says, clapping me on the shoulder.
I wince, and he immediately pulls away, realizing it was my right side.
“How’s your shoulder today?” He follows it up.
“Tight. Sore. I’m doing okay, though. We have a couple of days before we hit the road, so I think I should be good before then.”
Each of them studies me for a long moment, like they’re trying to decide how much they believe me.
I’m over talking about my shoulder. I’m done thinking about anything, period.
I push off the counter. “I’m gonna head upstairs and shower.”
“I’ll text Reed and have him start looking into things. I’ll keep you updated on what he says,” Talon says from behind me.
“Thanks, guys. You too, Wren. I appreciate it.”
I take the stairs two at a time. The conversations in the kitchen fade the higher I go.
I shut my door and sit on the edge of my bed, dragging my hands through my hair and staring at the floor.
It’s still dark in here except for the strip of light coming through the blinds. My stick and bag sit on the floor at the foot of my bed. The sweatshirt I wore last night is tossed over the chair. I don’t have the energy to deal with any of it right now.
Finding Brinley parked on the side of the road won’t leave my head.
The way she was slumped over, her face buried in her hands when I pulled up. The way she lifted her head when she saw it was me, wiping at her face like she didn’t want me to see.
And her trunk.
Everything she owned was crammed in her car, like she wasn’t planning on staying anywhere too long. She could’ve kept driving right out of Rixton and never looked in the rearview if she wanted.
I keep picturing her checking her phone last night, waiting for me to answer. Waiting for me to call like I promised I would. Probably wondering if I was going to walk in with the rest of the guys or if she’d misread the whole thing.
My phone’s still in my hand now. I unlock it and open our thread. Her messages are right there at the bottom, asking if I’m coming to the party and if everything is okay.
That last one came close to midnight after she’d already left and gone to the farm. When the barn would’ve been quiet. When she was probably lying in bed alone, wondering and worrying about what had happened.
My thumb hovers over the keyboard. I want to text her now. To say I’m sorry again, to tell her everything, and give her a reason that explains why I’ve pulled away.
I drag my hand over my neck and stare at the wall across from my bed.
She was different when I saw her earlier. Not the Brinley who started to open up to me over the past couple of weeks. She was retreating into the same withdrawn woman I met that night at the bar, who was quick to push me away and assert that she could take care of herself.
And I hate that I’m someone she felt she needed to protect herself from.
Coach’s voice slips in whether I want it to or not.
“I’m telling you one last time to stay away from her.”
What if I can’t?
What if Reed digs and there’s nothing there? Nothing to find that points to any wrongdoing.
Am I ready to choose hockey over her?
The thought of walking away from her—of making her feel like she wasn’t worth fighting for—turns my stomach. I would be no better than her father, who chose to pay her mom off rather than be there for her.
I push up from the bed before I sit there too long.
I peel off my shirt and toss it toward the chair, then head into the bathroom. After turning the shower as hot as it’ll go, I step under it without waiting.
The water runs over my shoulders and down my spine. I stand there for a minute, hoping it’ll quiet my mind. But it doesn’t.
When I’m done, I dry off and pull on a pair of gym shorts and an old T-shirt. I lean over my desk and grab my Xbox controller, letting it hang in my hand for a second before I sit down.
I need my mind to drift somewhere else for a while.
The console light flashes on, and the screen flickers to life. A couple of notifications are stacked in the corner, but I ignore them and queue up a match. The loading screen spins while I sink into my chair, stretching my legs out.
The first round is a mess. I overcorrect on a turn and wind up getting clipped. Then I miss a clean shot I normally wouldn’t have.
“Come on,” I grumble under my breath.
I adjust, sit up a bit straighter, and let the rhythm settle in on its own like it usually does.
By the second round, I’m back into the game like my hands remember what to do.
Then a username flashes in the top right corner of my screen.
CerealKilla has joined the lobby.
We haven’t talked much lately, not since we exchanged a few messages the other day. She’d said she was moving and had stuff going on. I’ve been wrapped up in my own mess anyway.
Still, when we’re both on, we usually end up in the same game.
She doesn’t send an invite.
I figure she’s mid-match. I finish out my round and head into the lobby.
A second later, my headset clicks, and the connection chime sounds when she joins.
I lean forward, elbows on my knees, and let the countdown hit zero.