Chapter Eight
Brody
Ifucking loved hockey.
Where else could I watch from the goalie net as a guy I hated got absolutely pummeled by my best friend?
Nowhere.
Unless I joined some type of backstreet alley fighter gang—which I’d thought about, but ultimately decided wouldn’t be a good fit for me. I’d spent too many years in braces to take the risk of someone knocking out any of my teeth at this stage.
The best friend in question was currently slamming a rival team member against the plexiglass, no doubt seriously provoked, because Liam tried not to get into fights anymore. Especially when he knew his kid was watching.
“Get him, Liam!” I called from across the ice.
I watched as he sucker-punched Stevenson into submission, and I laughed. The guy was a jerk. Always playing offensive. Always trying to go for low blows.
He was well overdue for everything Liam was dishing out to him.
It took a minute before the refs stepped in, allowing Liam the chance to finish it on his terms. He’d already decided it was over by the time they officially broke it up.
Stevenson was a little bloody, Liam was royally pissed, and they stuck both of them in the penalty box to cool off.
Liam’s scowling face lit up on the Jumbotron as the crowd roared behind me. When it panned to Stevenson’s face, already swelling, the volume of the arena grew even louder.
Boston was metal as hell—I’d give them that. There was nothing they loved quite as much as a good hockey fight.
And we really hadn’t been serving on that front in a while.
The rest of the game passed by in a blur, and when it came time for post-game interviews, Liam was still carrying the chip on his shoulder that had been there all night.
“How do you feel after the win tonight?” a young interviewer asked, shoving the microphone up in Liam’s face.
They were either too na?ve or too arrogant to be testing Liam’s patience when he was already in a mood. Hell, maybe they wanted to get their own bruise courtesy of the notorious Harbor Wolves captain.
Like I always said, hockey fans were weird.
“Tired,” Liam responded in a clipped tone, leaving little room for the newbie to work with.
The interviewer shuffled on their feet, laughing off the comment before continuing.
“You and Stevenson really got into it earlier. Bad blood there, or just the adrenaline of the game?”
“Does it matter?” Liam retorted, eyebrows raised at the kid, daring him to ask another question.
I shot Liam a look, confused by the irritation bleeding through his words. It was a side of him I hadn’t seen in a few years but had been slipping through the cracks more often lately.
These Brynns of mine—they could be testy when they wanted to.
Leaping into the frame of the camera, I made a joke about how our temperamental captain needed to go take a shower and swiftly took over the rest of his questions in a seamless transition.
Liam didn’t deserve any bad press just because he was in a shitty mood, and besides, I was much funnier than he was anyway.
At least according to the TikTok edits. Liam had me beat with thirst traps, sure, but when it came to comedic edits, I’d gotten everyone beat by miles.
The interviewer relaxed a bit as I leaned forward into the mic, apparently knowing I was going to give him what he was looking for.
“Crazy shit out there, right?” I commented, knowing everyone wanted to hear the scoop of the fight. “Stevenson’s not a bad guy, but he’s been a bit too clumsy on the ice, if you know what I mean.”
“Clumsy?”
“Oh yeah. I mean, I can’t think of any other reason why he’d be body-checking our captain the last few games we saw him.
Can you?” I smirked. “I certainly would know better than to get in Brynn’s way, so it’s either clumsiness or stupidity.
Giving him the benefit of the doubt, I’ll stick with clumsiness. ”
The media team laughed.
“I guess we’ll see next time we’re against the Jets, though.” I clicked my tongue. “If it’s a repeat event, then I might have to change my answer.”
We bantered back and forth for a few minutes until the conversation came to a natural close.
The media team gathered up their equipment and left, satisfied and with plenty of content.
I shook my head, blowing a breath of relief once they were gone.
Liam was still fuming somewhere, but at least I’d taken care of his media obligations.
Putting one fire out at a time—that’s all I could do.
It was worse than I expected.
Liam was sitting on the edge of his hotel bed, staring out the window as if the city lights held the answers to all the horrendous contemplations I imagined were swirling through his head.
“Don’t you knock?” Liam growled as I strode into his space.
“That’s the beauty of connecting rooms,” I smirked. “I don’t need to.”
He rolled his eyes before grabbing the television remote and clicking it on.
Nevertheless, I persisted.
“Do you want to go out with the team?” I asked.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m thirty-two and want to go to sleep.”
“But we’re in Vegas!” I exclaimed, taking the liberty of throwing a light punch at his shoulder.
He turned to shoot me an incredulous look.
“We’ve been in Vegas before. About a hundred times.”
“And every time, you choose to stay in your room,” I pointed out.
He said nothing, just continued to click through the stations.
I moved in front of the screen, making myself unavoidable.
He sighed before flicking his attention back to me.
“What’s going on, dude?” I asked, scanning him head to toe as if I could diagnose whatever was going on inside of him.
“I told you. I want to go to bed.”
“No—what’s going on with you?” I asked. “You’re in a shit mood. And not your usual one either. This is worse.”
He was silent for a minute, eyes practically glazed over with detachment until he finally heaved a sigh and shrugged.
“I just think I’m getting too old for this.”
“This meaning…?”
“All of this—” he gestured toward the hotel room. “The traveling. The staying in hotel rooms. The being on the opposite end of the country from my family.”
I frowned.
“Are you telling me you think you’re too old for hockey?”
“Aren’t you getting to that point too?” he asked. “Look at our team. We’re playing with kids in their early twenties who have nothing else going on but the game.”
“Don’t shit on them for that,” I said defensively. “That was you not very long ago.”
“I remember,” he said. “It’s nothing against them. It’s just me. I’m not there anymore. This doesn’t mean as much to me the way it used to.”
“What are you saying?” I asked cautiously.
He exhaled—the weary sigh of a man already resigned to his decision.
“I just want to be home.”
I understood where he was coming from. I really did. Did he think I didn’t have a hard time going to sleep in a strange city, leaving my girlfriend alone at home? At least Cassie had Lily with her while Liam was traveling for work.
“I miss Maggie just as much as you miss Cassie.”
“Doubtful,” he countered.
“Do you think I like going to sleep in a strange bed without Maggie beside me?”
“Ugh,” he groaned. “Don’t talk to me about you and my sister in bed. It’s weird.”
“That’s not fair. I have to know about you and Cassie in bed, and she’s like a little sister to me.”
“When the hell have I ever talked about me and Cassie in bed?” Liam growled furiously.
“You don’t have to talk about it,” I countered. “You have a child. I already know.”
“Jesus Christ, Brody.” Liam muttered, running a hand over his face. “You’re really something.”
“Thanks, Cap.”
“That’s not a compliment.”
“Please don’t leave, Liam,” I said, feeling a sudden apprehension in my chest. “I don’t want to do this without you. It would be too weird.”
The thought of flying across the country, warming up on the ice, playing the game without Liam? I couldn’t fathom going through any of it without him. He was the piece of home I got to take with me wherever we went. He kept me grounded.
“Nothing’s decided yet, Brody,” he said, looking wearier than I’d seen him in a long time. “I think I’m just tired.”
I sighed, knowing by the look on his face that was all the talking I’d get out of him tonight.
“I guess I’ll see you in the morning then,” I said, and showed myself out of his room, not knowing where exactly that left us.
I loved my job. I loved hockey—for the sport, yes, but the team most of all. Every day was like hanging out with friends. Cracking jokes. Getting energy out. Feeling important. Included.
And I’d still have that, even if he decided to retire…
but the Harbor Wolves without Liam? I’d never experienced that in my whole career.
And some selfish part of me didn’t want to.
We were supposed to retire together. And yeah, technically I knew that the clock started ticking on your hockey career once you hit your thirties—but I still felt like the fresh-faced rookie who got drafted all those years ago.
Time was a hell of a thing.
I didn’t really notice it passing until I was left with nothing left to do but face the changes.
I knew better than to argue with Liam on his decision. Once his mind was set on something, that was all there was to it. Maggie was the same way.
I shook my head, pushing the thought away. Liam hadn’t made up his mind yet. Not officially. Maybe he was right—maybe he was just tired. If I gave him space, he’d realize he was being ridiculous and stick it out—for me, if not for himself.
I left him in his room to sulk, taking my phone out of my pocket to dial Maggie the second I got in the hallway.
Even if one Brynn was abandoning me, I knew with certainty that the other never would.
She answered on the second ring.