Chapter 22 Dominic #2
He leans forward, elbows on the table, and hands crossed in front of him. “You want everyone to get on board with your team-building tactics, right?” I nod. “Yet you’re not being entirely forthcoming with us.”
He has a point. But we’re barely past two truths and a lie territory with the group, definitely not entering the realm of deepest, darkest secrets. Well, other than Bill.
“So you’re testing me? My willingness to be honest?” I say, the pieces coming together slowly. “Scoring my teammate compatibility, if you will?”
He frowns, inclining his head. “You could say that. Or you could call it dedication to the cause.”
He’s framing it as the team or Briar. Both are important to me, but there’s no decision here.
I will protect Briar first and foremost. Especially since I don’t trust Kipson yet.
He’s been hurt, and wounded animals are likely to lash out at a rescuer.
Briar told me that as animal trivia, but I already knew it from the most dangerous animal of all—humans. It’s what we do.
“Let me ask you a question before I answer yours.”
Kipson sits back in his chair, by all appearances open to whatever I’m going to ask, but that painful wound in the middle of his chest . . . yeah, I’m about to poke it with a stick. A sharp one. “Do you blame the team for what went down with you and Sofia?”
His jaw goes tight as he clenches and unclenches his teeth. “Why?”
“Relevant to the topic at hand.” It’s the most I can give until he answers.
He spins his beer on the coaster, eyes going vacant as the past replays in his mind.
“Yes and no. They shouldn’t have said the shit they did.
It put thoughts in my head that wouldn’t have been there otherwise.
But that’s on me. I said what I said, I did what I did, instead of seeing what was happening and fixing it.
They fucked me up, but I fucked up my marriage.
I pushed her away with my own bullshit.” His voice is flat and emotionless, but the heaviness of his guilt settles over him like a weighted cloak.
Coming back to the present, he glances at me.
“Joke’s on them, though. They thought that without Sofia, I’d hyperfocus on hockey and become one of them.
Instead, I want to destroy everything and I’ve never cared less about hockey than I do now. ”
Wow. Kipson not only bared his heart, he ripped the whole bloody thing wide open and dared me to judge the shredded pieces. It’s an honor I don’t take lightly, especially from a man like him.
I want to return the share, but I hesitate. “How destructive are you?”
“I mean, I’m not a danger to myself or others if that’s what you’re asking,” Kipson scoffs.
I’m glad to hear it, but I shake my head. “Are you angry enough with the team—and with me specifically”—I arch a brow meaningfully—“to let an innocent woman be collateral damage of your destructiveness? One who has already been hurt too many times in her life?”
He recoils, disgusted. “No, of course not.”
This could go horribly wrong. I know that down to my soul.
But if I have any chance at saving Kipson—for his own good, not because it’s supposed to be some team directive—I have to be honest with him.
This isn’t team building. This is brotherhood building.
And whether he likes it or not, Kipson is my brother. Or he’s gonna be.
I take a big breath, praying I’m doing the right thing. “I’m not fucking Briar Johns.”
It’s technically the truth. I’m not merely fucking her. I’ve fallen for her, but even so, it feels like a lie. A lie told for a good cause is still a lie. My mom gave me that nugget of wisdom as a kid and it’s stuck with me. It echoes in my mind again now.
“Fuck you, Lee.” We’re back to that old favorite.
“I’m not done,” I say, pinning him with a look. “I’m not fucking her. I’m in love with her.”
“You’re what?” he barks, jerking forward and leaning across the table. But he looks left and right like someone might’ve overheard me. I glance around, too, but don’t see anyone of importance. Notably Coach.
Seeing the shocked look on his face . . . hell, feeling the shock in my chest . . . I start to smile. “I haven’t actually said that aloud yet. But yeah, I’m in love with Briar.”
“Stop saying that,” he orders. Rolling his eyes to the ceiling like he’s hoping to find divine intervention there, he finally declares, “You are so much stupider than I thought.”
“What?”
“I thought you were fucking her. For fun or to get back at Coach or some shit. I didn’t know you were .
. .” The words come as one stream of consciousness until he runs a hand over his mouth, stopping them.
“Coach is going to murder you. Literally. Or at the minimum, your career is over. Up in flames, poof, never taking the ice again. There’s no way he’s going to let you date Briar.
And this isn’t his usual ‘hockey first’ thing.
It’s his daughter, man.” He’s glaring at me as if I don’t know that.
“Not sure he has any room to say shit to anyone about priorities,” I snap back. “He might be a good coach, but he’s an awful father. He basically neglected her for her entire life.”
“She’s still his daughter. Automatically makes her off-limits.” Kipson shakes his head. “He’s going to cut your fucking hamstring with a skate and beat you senseless with a stick when he finds out.”
Graphic, but also, likely accurate given Coach’s leadership style.
“I know,” I finally reply. “Still won’t change my mind.”
I’ve been avoiding this, even in my own mind.
At first, I didn’t care because the Blizzard wasn’t really my team anyway.
I was here to fix Kipson and get the hell out of Dodge.
But as the guys have become my friends, my brothers, I do care about them, and I’ve set a ticking time bomb in the middle of everything.
When Coach finds out, he’ll be the one to light the fuse, but it’ll be my fault all the same.
I’ll be the reason that everything I’ve worked to build here is brought to ruins again. I hate that, but I love Briar more.
“Damn, Lee,” Kipson groans as he sits back.
“You sure know how to fuck things up, don’t you?
” He says it as though it’s a compliment, and under normal circumstances, I’d take it as one.
But I feel like I’m on the edge of a black void, inching my toes closer with every decision I make, but this time, I’m not the only one who’ll fall in. I’ll take Briar and Harley with me.
“Guess so.” I shrug.
“You really love her?”
“Yep, I really do. You gonna tell Coach?” I pause, beer poised at my mouth.
His brows knit together. “To what end?”
“Destruction?” I suggest, reminding him that he said that’s what he wants.
“Could be fun, you know? Shake things up, get everyone arguing and fighting again, a little drama for the ’gram?
” I don’t want any of that. I want the good-natured taunts, the text check-ins, the friendship the guys and I have built. But does Kipson?
He sighs heavily. “I went to the gym with Pacholek and Sabine the other day,” he says out of nowhere, which is news to me but I’m glad to hear it.
“We were talking about how things used to be.” He tilts his head and adds, “How much better things are now. They say that’s you and I think they’re right. ”
I feel like that’s the biggest compliment he could’ve given me.
“Next time, shoot me an invite and I’ll go with you.
I’m a damn good spotter and the best cheerleader you’ve ever seen.
I even know a couple of Penny’s routines.
” I do a few arm movements and shimmy my shoulders in my best approximation of dancing. “Gooo, Mikey!”
“Never call me that again.” But obviously impressed with my stellar skills, he chuckles. “That’s your sister, right? She’s a cheerleader for the Hawks?”
I nod, glad he remembered.
“If I noticed you and Briar eye-fucking, other people probably did too.” His tone is ice hard, warning while at the same time almost .
. . protective? If I’m not mistaken, he almost sounds captain-esque.
“And not everyone is on board with your whole brotherhood agenda. There’s one particular holdout I’d be concerned about if I were you. ”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
He’s right. “You think Anderson noticed? Think he’ll spill to Coach?”
Kipson snorts a bitter laugh. “I’m sure he noticed that Briar wasn’t fawning over him, as per usual, so he might’ve written that off.
But I’d bet he also saw how much attention she was giving you because that woman couldn’t keep her eyes off of you.
” He lifts one shoulder in a careless shrug.
“I think he’ll have a go at you first. But if he can’t beat you fair and square, he’ll sell you out. No doubt.”
I agree with his assessment of Anderson. The goalie is loudmouthed and brash by nature, and taking me down a notch or two would be justice served in his estimation.
“You want to save him, too, don’t you?” Kipson asks after a moment, and I nod, not denying it. Kipson’s been angry, not stupid, and he’s a perceptive man. “Not everyone can be saved. Hell, not everyone deserves it,” he cautions.
“Seems like I was told the same thing about you, yet here we are, shooting the shit, drinking beer, and sharing secrets.” I take a slow sip, my eyes locked on him. “Next thing you know, we’ll be getting matching tattoos. What do you think? Blizzard polar bears? Could be a team outing,” I joke.
“Sure thing, Lee. You go first,” he quips, a grin slowly developing.
“If I thought for one second you were serious, I’d do it. I bet a bunch of the other guys would too,” I say with certainty.
“Fuck, maybe I would,” he says, laughing. “Ask me again after the season ends.”
“You and me? Tattoo buddies.” I point between us. “It’s gonna happen. I’m manifesting it, as my sister would say.”