45. Chapter 45
Modern day Starsky and Hutch
It’s been four weeks since Baylor Ward’s concussion. His doctors haven’t released him to play yet, which sucks for us because we’ve lost three games in the meantime. However, they have released him to come to tonight’s game.
We’re playing Boston, and we really need this win. I think it will help to have Baylor sitting on the bench with us. He’s a captain and a positive force for the team.
“All right, guys,” Coach Al says during his pre-game pep talk. “I need you all to up your game tonight. Shively is back for Boston after his accident.” His lip curls. “Just… remember who you are and play a clean game, okay?”
Shively used to play for Dallas but then was traded to Boston. After a car wreck, he’s spent the past two years in hospitals and rehabilitation. I guess that’s why the coach was reminding us to play clean. Maybe some of the guys had bad blood with Shively?
I mean, I’ve never cared for the guy. He never misses an opportunity to take a cheap shot on another player.
Baylor makes a snort of derision, and I think I’m right about the bad blood thing. My friend doesn’t mind mixing it up if things get chippy on the ice, but he never plays dirty, and he doesn’t tolerate anyone who does.
We take the ice. It’s a hard-fought battle, and halfway through the second period, we find ourselves up by one point. Coach changes the line, and I collapse onto the bench beside Baylor .
“I think we can win this,” I say, breathing heavily as one of the trainers hands me a squirt bottle of water. I spray some into my mouth and swipe the bottom of my face with the back of my hand.
Baylor’s eyes are locked on the game, his lip curled up on one side. “God, I wish I was out there. I’d like to teach that motherfucker a lesson.”
“Who?” I ask, trying to track his line of vision, but the players are moving too quickly.
“Collin fucking Shively,” he sneers. “The goddamn colon hurt my sister—”
I don’t even hear the rest of what he says because the pieces suddenly click into place. Collin Shively is Juliette’s ex. The one who made her feel stupid. The one who put his hands on her.
The one I’m about to fucking kill.
I’m on the ice in an instant, ignoring the shouts from my coaches and teammates because I’m still supposed to be on the bench. My body is a bullet train, headed straight for Shively as my skates rake hard across the ice.
“Hey, what the fuck?” the prick asks as I barrel into him and take him to the ground.
I haven’t felt this kind of anger since I was ten and saw my dad hurting my mom, the night I hit him with a pot. But I don’t need a weapon now. I’m a grown-ass man, and I am the weapon.
Ripping off his helmet, I pummel his face. Over and over. I feel hands tugging at me, but I’m relentless. All I can think of is my beautiful, kind-hearted Juliette cowering on the floor, holding her dislocated shoulder.
That’s what Collin Shively, the abusive coward, deserves too, so I flip him over and twist his arm up behind his back. But before I get the satisfaction of hearing the sound of his shoulder popping out of its socket, I’m suddenly yanked away.
It takes three of my teammates, but I’m being carried kicking and screaming away from the bloody man on the ice. “You fucking twat muffin,” I yell, using Juliette’s name for him. “I’m not done with you yet, motherfucker.”
I’m ejected from the game, but I don’t give a single shit about that. My blood is still boiling inside my veins. Coach shoves me in the chest.
“Out of my sight, Swain. I’ll deal with you later. Locker room. Now,” he barks before turning to Baylor. “Ward, go with him and see if you can’t do something with his crazy ass. I’ve got to deal with…” He waves a frustrated hand toward the rink. “All this shit.”
Gibby is locked up with Boston’s right winger, and they’re throwing punches left and right. The rest of both teams are on the ice, yelling curses and bowing up to one another.
Five minutes later, Baylor and I are alone in the locker room.
He pushes me roughly onto one of the wide wooden benches where we usually sit to put on our skates and tape our equipment.
The look of fury on his face matches my own, and he levels me with a glare that keeps me seated, despite my urge to go finish the job.
He paces back and forth in front of me about twenty times, hands on hips and eyes averted from mine. I can see the wheels turning in his brain, so I remain silent.
Finally turning toward me, his voice is deceptively low. “Why did you call him a twat muffin?”
I’m confused. Out of everything that just happened, he’s worried that I called Shively a…
Wait. Fuck. That’s what Juliette calls Collin. And there’s no way I could know that unless she told me. And why would she tell me? Baylor is apparently asking himself that same question.
There’s no denying it. He knows. So I remain silent.
He walks closer, hovering over me as his fists clench at his sides. I brace myself for the blow, but it doesn’t come. Instead, he asks, “Are you fucking my sister?”
I don’t like the question. Do I fuck her? Yes. Do I talk dirty to her and tell her I’m going to fuck her until she screams? Also yes. But the way Baylor says it, like it’s some dirty, horrible thing, pisses me right the fuck off.
“I’m in a relationship with Juliette,” I clarify, my voice hard as stone.
“A relationship?” he yells, the sound reverberating off the dark-blue lockers. Baylor paces away, kicking a hamper and sending dirty towels flying all over the place before whirling back. “Why?”
“Because I love her,” I say simply.
He gapes at me incredulously. “How can you love her? You’ve known each other for about five goddamn minutes.”
“I actually met her on vacation early this past summer. I didn’t know who she was then.”
Baylor’s jaw clenches. “So you thought you’d have a little fun and get a sweet piece of—”
He’s cut off when I jump to my feet and push him back against the lockers. Not hard enough to reinjure his head because as mad as I am right now, I’m not that much of an asshole.
Placing my forearm against his throat, I snarl. “I suggest you don’t finish that sentence, Baylor Ward. Not about the woman I love.”
Something passes through his eyes—respect maybe?—before he places his hands on my chest and pushes me back a few steps. It’s a shove but not a particularly hard one, merely giving us a little space to breathe.
“Why? Why didn’t you tell me, Reno? I thought we were friends.” The pain is evident in his voice, and it cuts into me.
“We are friends, but Juliette comes first. She will always come first.”
That takes some of the wind out of his sails, and his shoulders deflate. “You could have come to me and talked man to man. It kills me that you snuck around behind my back.”
I drag a hand through my wet hair and answer. “She asked me not to. She wanted to wait until after the season so she didn’t cause ‘discord’ on the team.” I do little quotes around discord and realize my knuckles hurt from all the punches I landed on Shively.
Baylor snorts and waves his arms around. “Yeah, I’d say this is discord all right.”
“I’m sorry. Not for falling in love with your sister, but for hiding it from you. I wish I could have been honest, but have you ever tried to tell your sister no when she turns those eyes on you?”
He lets out a short laugh. “I know what you mean. She looks like that goddamn big-eyed cat in Shrek .” Baylor puts his hands in front of his chest like little paws and widens his eyes.
Seeing his big ass like that makes me laugh, and for the first time since this debacle started, I think we might be okay.
Then something dawns in his eyes, and he looks stricken. “There’s… there’s no sperm donor is there? You knocked up my sister.”
Well, fuck. We’re back to square one.
Holding up my hands placatingly, I say, “Give me a minute.” Then I begin undressing.
“This is absolutely not helping your case, Swain,” he mutters.
I toss my jersey aside and work on removing my black shoulder pads.
“I’ve never had a tattoo before because I’d never found anything worth having on my body permanently.
” When I stand bare-chested in front of Baylor, I point at the ink over my heart.
“I got this done the day after Juliette left me standing in the Miami airport. I knew I loved her already, but she was scared.”
Baylor tilts his head to the side. “I’ve always wondered what the fuck that was on your chest. It looks like a cloud with ears. I figured you’d lost a bet or something.”
“It is a cloud. It’s the first cloud Juliette and I ever analyzed together,” I explain. “We call him Sexy Bunny.”
He barks out a laugh. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard in my life. Why didn’t you just get her name tattooed on you?”
My hand rubs over the ink. “I thought about it, but this seemed more significant because it was something we shared together.” I look down at the floor before lifting my gaze. “Watching her watch the clouds, I knew she was special. I think I started falling for her that very first day. ”
I neglect to mention that I was already enamored during the whole jacking off on the back porch thing because I’m pretty sure that would not make things better.
Baylor nods slowly, still with the hint of a smile on his face. “Okay, man. I guess that’s… cool.”
I lift one finger. “But wait, there’s more.”
“Swear to god, if you take off your pants to show me a dandelion tattoo on your dick or some such shit because you and Jules saw one in a meadow, I’m going to punch your lights out,” he warns.
“No more tats,” I promise, striding to my locker and opening it. I dig into the side pocket of my bag with my good hand until I find what I’m looking for. Turning back, I place the ring box into Baylor’s hands.