Grant #2
As he does, he sets up a beautiful drop pass that allows Ethan to charge forward. When E gets to the crease, he sends the puck past the goalie’s right shoulder and sailing into the net.
“EASY E!” Maverick screams, wrapping him in a hug.
“What a fucking play!” I join their circle, throwing my arms around both of them. “Such a gorgeous shot, E.”
The building descends into chaos. After a celebration where we go down the bench for high fives, we have the momentum. There are only three minutes left on the clock, and we fight off every attempt by the Yellowjackets to score until the game whittles down to the last twenty seconds.
Atlanta wins another face-off, and they take control of the puck.
Tearing down the ice, they attempt a shot, but Liam anticipates it.
He blocks them from scoring until a second Yellowjackets player appears.
Our opponent tries to squeak the puck in, knocking Liam onto the ice and into the net as time expires.
“Abso-fucking-lutely not,” I roar, throwing my stick and gloves on the ice. I grab the closest Atlanta player to me and rear my fist back, decking him in the cheek. “Get your hands off my fucking goalie.”
Maverick and Ethan are doing the same, their fists flailing in an attempt to land a punch on anyone they can reach. It’s a mess of bodies and elbows, and by the time the refs finally separate us, it’s been decided Atlanta’s tying goal is a no goal due to goalie interference.
Then it really sets in.
We’re moving on to the next round, and we have another shot at competing for the Stanley Cup.
I jump on Ethan’s back. The rest of my teammates follow until I’m crushed under everyone’s weight and laughing until my stomach hurts.
“I’M THE HERO DC DESERVES!” Ethan yells.
“Unbelievable, dude. Great defense, great goal. Holy hell. Hey, Sully! Get your ass in here!” I bark, and our grumpy goalie squats next to us.
“Thanks for having my back, Everett.” Liam ruffles my hair. “You’re a damn good teammate.”
We take our time leaving the ice, spending a few minutes with the fans and some of the training staff. When we finally head to the locker room, I walk down the tunnel next to Hudson, wiping the tears from my eyes.
“Huddy Boy. You were amazing out there,” I say. “Even in your old age.”
“Thanks, kid,” he teases, pulling me in a hug.
“God. I love the high a win brings. We need to go out and celebrate. How about—”
I snap my mouth closed. I frown, my eyes narrowing as I stare at the couple lingering outside the locker room.
The laugh is familiar.
So is her blonde hair.
I blink, confused why my sister is wearing Coach’s old Boston College jersey, but then Coach sweeps her off her feet. He spins her while her arms loop around his neck, and they grin at each other like they’re the only people in the world.
What the fuck?
Hannah rests her forehead against his. She whispers in his ear while Coach holds the back of her thighs, and understanding dawns.
Bile works its way up my throat. I drop my stick and gloves like I’m getting ready for a fight.
“What the hell are you two doing?” I ask, my voice cracking around the question.
They both turn to look at me. Hannah lets go of Coach. He sets her down, a hand still on the small of her back.
“Someone better tell me what the fuck is going on.” I try to clear my vision, but all I see is red. “Right fucking now.”
“Brody.” Hannah touches his arm. “It’s okay.”
Brody.
Casual.
Fucking friendly.
It’s obviously not the first time she’s said it, and I want to hurl.
“You’re sleeping together,” I whisper. “I fucking knew it. I thought I saw something going on with the two of you at team dinner last month, but I blamed it on being tired.”
“We’re doing more than sleeping together,” Coach says, and it’s the equivalent of being slapped in the face.
That means this—whatever the fuck it is—has been going on for a while.
That means they’ve been hiding things from me.
That means my sister has been lying to me.
“I fucking respected you. I looked up to you. You’ve been my idol for years, but the whole time, you were exactly like everyone else,” I grit out.
“You’re a goddamn fuckboy. You have a kid, and you’re out here spending time with a twenty-five-year-old?
Grow the fuck up and go out with someone your own age. ”
“A fuckboy? I love her,” Coach answers. “And you’re not going to drag my daughter into a discussion where she doesn’t belong.”
“Why not?” I move closer and press an arm into his chest. He’s taller than me, but I don’t give a shit. My trust is broken. I’m fueled by rage and wanting to protect my sister. “Hannah is young enough to make you a father of two.”
“Enough,” Hannah practically yells. I freeze and take a step back.
“How dare you talk about me like that when I’m right here?
” She looks at me, and her bottom lip trembles.
“You want to call out my age and say I’m your younger sister all while you sit here and act like a child.
How could you think this has anything to do with you, Grant? ”
I swallow. “Is he forcing you into this?”
“You think I’m being forced into a relationship with another adult?” Hannah bites out a laugh. “I’m not having this conversation.” She looks at Coach. “I’m going to wait for you at your place. I don’t want to be here.”
“Of course.” Coach digs his keys out of his pocket and hands them to her. He clasps her hand and strokes his thumb over her knuckles, and I want to puke. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Hannah doesn’t offer me another glance as she storms down the hall, and I glare at my coach.
“I trusted you.” I wipe my nose. My emotions are getting the best of me. The happiness from five minutes ago is replaced with anger and disappointment. “And now you’re dead to me.”
I push past him and disappear into the locker room. I rip off my gear, throwing everything into a pile in front of my stall. Resting my head against my nameplate, I try to take a deep breath, but I’m so fucking mad. Adrenaline pounds behind my sternum, and I undress as quickly as I can.
“Hey.” Maverick puts a hand on my shoulder. He squeezes once. “Talk to me, G.”
“So you can tell me I’m overreacting?” I bend and unlace my skate, tossing it to the back of my stall. “How would you feel if Murphy started dating someone much older than her? Someone you knew on a personal level?”
“I’d be pretty fucking pissed.” He sighs. “Livid, actually, and I’d never tell you that you’re overreacting. I’d respond the same way.”
“I’m leaving. I don’t want to talk to the media. I don’t want to stick around and listen to whatever debrief he wants to give us.” I shuck off all my gear and pull on my slacks and shirt, barely stopping to button them. “I need to clear my head.”
“Go home. Take a shower. We’re going to figure this out,” Maverick says, but I don’t believe him.
I ignore the rest of my teammates and slip into the hall behind the locker room. I pass through the parking garage and slam my car door closed, trying to get my breathing under control.
Squeezing my eyes shut doesn’t help, and all I can do is replay the last twenty minutes.
The hurt on Hannah’s face is as clear as day, and I can’t believe I lashed out at her like that.
I hate what I saw, but I hate how I acted even more.
I have to sit with this. I have to process it, and then I need to make it right.