Chapter Twelve
Briggs
It takes two days for the restraining order to leak…and approximately five minutes for the press to start digging, trying to find out what split our family apart.
To my relief, they leave Tia out of it. She doesn't say anything, but I know she's relieved, too. She doesn't want to keep reliving what happened, especially not for the entire fucking world. It was traumatic enough the first time.
Despite the endless sea of reporters trying to get a quote or a hint of what happened with our mother, the next few days feel like a dream. When I'm not on the ice, I'm with Tia, trying to find reasons to coax her back into bed.
She's a lot harder to convince than she looks, especially when she's working. But I've got my ways. By the end of her second week in Chicago, I've fucked her all over the house, interrupting her work more than I should admit.
I'm not sorry about it.
I am worried as hell about her going back to Minneapolis, though.
I've always thought my life was here, keeping an eye on Hattie, ensuring our mother couldn't hurt her anymore.
But the closer we get to finishing the brunt of the work Tia needs to do, the more I find myself questioning if that's true anymore.
Hattie is happy and thriving, living her own life. She has Sidney now. Does she really need me hovering in the background, waiting to swoop in and rescue her?
No. The answer is no.
But Tia needs me. And Tia's life is in Minneapolis. It's at Hearthstone. Every day, that becomes more abundantly clear. That job is her life. She loves it too much for me to ask her to give it up to move here permanently.
Which is how I find myself outside of Coach's office before practice, pacing a goddamn hole in the linoleum.
"Fuck," I finally mutter, rapping on the door.
"It's about goddamn time," he growls from the other side. "Get in here and stop stressing me out, Ward."
How long has he known I've been out here? Shit, knowing him? The whole time. Not much happens around here without him knowing.
I step into his office, closing the door behind me. He's seated behind his massive desk, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms, one brow arched, his ruddy face set in a permanent scowl.
One wall is a whiteboard, with stats and plays scribbled all over it.
Playbooks, stat binders, and medical references line the shelves behind his desk, with memorabilia scattered around.
A solitary box of equipment rests in one corner, the rest of the office a scattering of furniture, with a worktable shoved up against the wall.
"Can we talk?" I ask.
"Assumed that's what you wanted when you started pacing a goddamn hole through the floor out there," he says, jerking his head toward a chair parked in front of his desk. "What's up?"
I take my time getting comfortable, trying to put my thoughts in order. "I have a question."
"Out with it already, Ward," he growls, twirling his finger in an impatient circle. One thing Coach isn't is a patient motherfucker. "What do you want?"
"If I were to request a transfer to another team…what would that look like?" I ask.
He freezes, but he doesn't look surprised, not entirely. Just…full of dread, as if he knew this was coming but hoped he was wrong. "Which team?"
"The Mavericks."
"Minneapolis," he murmurs.
I jerk my chin in a nod.
"Dacen Reaper is their goalie."
"Yeah."
"You wanting to transfer because of your mother or because of your girl?" Coach asks point blank.
"Honestly?"
"Do I look like I want you to lie to me, Ward?"
"Always figured this would be where I retired," I say.
"But I don't think I ever asked myself what I wanted until recently.
I just played where I was needed, where I could keep an eye on shit and make sure my mother was behaving herself.
" I blow out a breath. "I've realized recently that she isn't my cross to bear, and I can't spend the rest of my life living under her cloud to protect everyone else, not when what I really want belongs in Minneapolis. My future is with her."
Coach is silent for a moment, processing, and then he sighs.
"You're right about one thing, son," he says.
"Your mother isn't your cross to bear. You've done enough.
If you're sure about the transfer—really sure—I'll do what I can to make it happen.
" He holds up a finger. "But only if Reaper is willing.
I'm not giving up your stats if I'm not getting his. "
Fuck. My hands shake, so I thrust them into my pockets. "Thanks, Coach."
"Don't thank me yet, Ward. It might not happen."
"I'm willing to force a holdout."
We both know what happens if it comes to that. I refuse to play until they agree to trade me. No one wants that. It'll fuck over the entire team, but…it's an option I'm willing to leverage if it comes to that.
I know what I want and how much I'm willing to risk to get it. This team has always been my team…but Tia is my heart. There is no competition. My teammates will understand that.
Coach stares at me for a long moment before a rough bark of laughter rumbles from his lips. "Of course you are," he says, shaking his head. He isn't pissed about it, though…just bemused. "You've always been a stubborn son of a bitch when it counted."
I shrug, climbing to my feet. "It counts this time."
"I can see that," he says. "I'll see what I can do. Just…don't do anything drastic without giving me a little time to make this happen for you, will you?"
"Yeah, I can do that," I agree.
"Briggs," Tia moans, her head thrown back against the bedroom wall as I grind against her two days later. "Please."
"Please, what?" I rasp, not giving her what she wants.
"Please let me come," she begs sweetly. "Please!"
I growl, yanking her down on my cock. She immediately clamps down around me, shattering to pieces. I groan, pounding into her like a madman as she moans and shakes in my arms, milking my cock.
I come hard, unraveling with her name on my lips.
"Fuck, beautiful," I groan, nipping the side of her throat when I can move again. "See how much more fun this is than work?"
Her body shakes around mine before she smacks my shoulder. "Put me down, you neanderthal."
"Nah." I wrap my arms around her, pulling her away from the wall. "I think I'll keep you right here."
"You're going to be the reason I get fired, you know," she says, unable to hide her smile as I carry her across the room, still inside her.
She's full of shit. If anything, she'll be getting a raise when she gets back to Minneapolis. In three weeks, we've raised over twenty million for the endowment, most of it from current and former professional athletes and those affiliated with them. It's not small fries, that's for damn sure.
I carry her straight into the bathroom, balancing her carefully while I start the shower.
"What are you doing?"
"Showering with you before I fly out," I murmur, nuzzling her throat.
She whines softly, her arms tightening around me as if she's trying to keep me right here through sheer physical strength. I wish it worked that way. If it did, I wouldn't be leaving for Detroit in a few hours.
Unfortunately, hockey waits for no one. And I've gotta go. I promised Coach time to make a trade happen.
I almost tell Tia about our conversation the other day…almost. But I stop myself, carrying her into the shower instead. I don't want her to know until I'm sure it's going to happen. It'll break me if we can't pull it off and she ends up disappointed.
"I'm going to miss you," she sighs, melting into me beneath the hot spray of water.
"Yeah? How much?" I bite the side of her throat, rubbing my hands up and down her back. "Enough to crawl into my suitcase and go with me?"
Her body shakes again. "I'm not dying in your suitcase so you can get off in Detroit, Briggs."
I frown, tipping her head back. "Hey. You know that's not what I mean, right? I don't want you with me just so I can spend the night inside you, Tia. I want you with me because it's where you belong."
Her expression softens. "I know. I was just teasing."
I study her for a minute, then grin. "Spending the night inside you is just an added bonus."
She groans, faceplanting against my shoulder. "You're inside me right now."
"Mmhmm." I press my lips to her ear. "Best fucking spot in the house, sweetness."
Her groan bleeds into a moan before I've got her pressed to the shower wall, fucking her again. By the time I'm finished with her, the water is cold, and she's unsteady on her feet.
"I love you," I whisper, wrapping a towel around her.
She melts into me. "I love you too, Briggs."
Fuck, I hate leaving her. I really fucking hate it.
I'm not surprised when I get to the arena to board the bus, only to find a bevy of reporters waiting for me. They're relentless. But so far, they've got nothing.
Some days, I consider telling them the truth, just to get them to fuck off. It's ironic. We're the ones being harassed, when it should be our mother. But shit never works that way, right?
It's just one more way she's ruining our lives. It's what she does best. I barely even remember a time when it wasn't like this. Before Hattie was born, Harlan and Tye swear she was a decent mom, but I was four. I don't remember those days.
Mostly, I just remember the way she always hated Hattie because Dad doted on her.
I remember the way she blamed Hattie when he died, when she was the one he was trying to save Hattie from.
I remember the way she constantly tried to change everything about our sister.
I remember how Hattie used to cry whenever we'd go off to a training camp.
There aren't a lot of good memories. For me, there never have been.
I realize something is up as soon as I see Karsen and Coach wading through the throng toward me before I'm even out of my SUV, matching glowers on their faces. Karsen looks like he's ready to hit someone.
Fuck.
I wait for them to come to me, not sure I want to know what's up. Whatever it is, I don't think it's good. Judging by the way every reporter in the lot is staring, it can't be good…right?
"You've got a problem," Karsen says, keeping his voice pitched low.
"What kind of problem?"
"Your mother."
I pinch the bridge of my nose, not even remotely surprised. Truthfully, I expected her to be a problem long before now. I think we all did, but she's been biding her time, playing by the rules of the restraining order while we wait for our court date.
"What'd she do?"
Neither Karsen nor Coach says anything.
"What did she do?" I growl.
Karsen mutters a curse. "She told the press that you got involved with Heartstone because you feel guilty about abandoning a kid you had when you were a rookie," he says.
"She's claiming that you and your siblings filed the restraining order to keep her from talking. She's trying to extort you, man."
I reel backward, blinking. "What the fuck?"
Coach clamps a hand down on my shoulder. "Easy, son."
Easy? Easy? That lying bitch is trying to…
My heart hammers, my blood pressure spiking. Is this what she meant when she told me that I'd regret turning my back on her? Is this why she's been so fucking quiet? Because this is what she's been plotting?
I didn't give her what she wanted, so she's going to try to ruin my life and my reputation to get it, the same way she's always tried to ruin Hattie. Every time Hattie didn't conform or comply, she found some new way to cut her down, some new way to belittle and torment her until Hattie gave in.
And Hattie is free of her now.
Shit, guess that's my fault, right? I'm the one who delivered our ultimatum. I'm the one who has been running interference. I'm the one who has been here dealing with her. So I'm her fucking target now.
Hell no.
She doesn't get to do this shit, not to me, and not to Tia.
Fuck. Tia.
A surge of panic rips through me, fear and anxiety all tangled together in a powerful knot. If Tia hears this shit, what will she think? That I'm just like Daniel? That I've been lying to her this entire time, playing some game and using her for my own ends?
No. No, no.
"I need to…" My hands shake, the weight of anxiety absolutely crushing. I need to get to her and explain. Right fucking now. Before she feels like she's back in college again, finding out that she's just a pawn in someone else's fucked-up game.
Coach must see something on my face, some thread of the panic coursing through me, because he doesn't even hesitate. "I'm excusing you from tomorrow's game," he says. "Family emergency. Go."
I jerk my chin in a nod, too grateful to speak. Too goddamn afraid to stand here another second. I have to get to her. Right fucking now.
I call Tye on the way, but he already knows.
"Hattie just called," he says. "She wants us to tell the truth."
"She shouldn't have to deal with that," I mutter, my hands tight around the steering wheel as I break the speed limit, whipping around traffic going too fucking slow for me.
"And you shouldn't have to deal with this," he says.
"That bitch doesn't get to fuck you over and try to destroy you because you've been the one dealing with her bullshit while we lived our lives, Briggs.
We aren't willing to accept that. The decision is made.
Harlan is working on a statement now. We're all signing off on it. "
"Fuck," I rasp, my throat tight. "Thank you."
"You don't have to thank us, Briggs. It's what we do for each other."
"I requested a trade," I say, my mouth dry as I pull up to the guard gate in my neighborhood. "To Minneapolis."
Tye is silent for a moment, and then he chuckles. "Good for you, bro. It's about goddamn time you got a life of your own."
"Yeah." I hit the gas, the engine roaring. "Yeah, it is."
Please, God, don't let this be the end of it. Fucking…please.