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And now, years later, I could still hear him in the back of my mind whenever I faltered.“Focus, Brody. Again.”

It had made me a champion. But at what cost?

“Right, I’ve decided what’s happening. I’ll allow you to take this year as a sabbatical,” Grandfather said, his tone leaving no room for argument. Not that it mattered—he always talked as if his word was law. “Get back to training Because, look at you, you’re soft. Your neck muscles are diminished, and have you put on weight?”

I clenched my jaw, my hands curling into fists at my sides. “Only a couple of?—”

“Then, get back with that woman. The singer. She’s doing okay, and you could use the good publicity.”

“Jemima? No, I?—”

“We’ll announce you’re coming out of retirement,” he continued, leaning back in his chair with confidence. “Something about rediscovering your passion, some… woke thing about finding yourself. People eat up that kind of nonsense these days. It’ll be perfect. And then, we’ll get you back, and this time, you won’t fuck up and miss the championship by twenty-three Goddamn points!”

He spoke as if it were a done deal.

It took everything in me not to snap, not to stand up and yell that soft didn’t mean shit when you were fighting to stay alive. That no amount of training could fix a goddamn aneurysm in your brain. But I stayed silent.

Because what was the point? He’d already decided. And in his world, what he decided was reality. Whether I liked it or not.

I stared at him. I didn’t have an answer.

And then, I stood.

I didn’t say a word. I didn’t yell, didn’t argue, didn’t explain myself. I just turned on my heel and walked out of the room, his voice following me down the hall.

“Don’t you dare walk away from me, Brody! You hear me? Don’t you dare!”

But I didn’t stop. I didn’t look back. Because, for once, I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“We’re not done! I know where you’ll be.”

He expected me to go to the house on Lake Michigan, my apartment in Monaco. Or maybe that I’d stay with Logan, Sadie, and Avery.

“Well fuck you, old man,” I snapped.

I peeled out of the gates in my Maserati, heading for the open road, and drove north to find somewhere else to hide.

Harrisburg.

SIX

Noah

I’d been comingin around the back of the net, doing my best to try to sneak the puck past Dmitry, but he was too fast. One big skate came out to rest on the post, blocking the wrap-around attempt. Dmitry, then, fell on the puck, freezing it, and one of the refs blew the puck dead as the players on my gray team circled the net like sharks.

“Nice try, rookie,” the Russian called from behind his mask. The Railers emblems on his shiny mask reminded me I wasn’t dreaming. I was really here working my ass off trying to make the team. “Has your papa not told you that there is no slipping pucks on the sly past Russian goalies?”

He tossed the puck to a ref.

“He might have, but I figured you might be super tired from all the shots on goal we grays have been taking.”

That made the good-looking goalie laugh. “You worry over your tired. My tired is not so very tired,” he replied, his thick accent similar to my pops. “If you are not too sleepy after this, many few of us are going to race after lunch. Come with us. Then, I can block you in go-karts as well as on ice.”

“Sounds good,” I said, giving him a gloved hand to catcher bump, then skated to the bench. Coach Morin was watching me closely. Not just me, obviously, but all of us. Still, I felt as if his attention was locked on me as I took a seat between my wingers. I glanced at Blake, scrubbing his face with a towel. “You going to the go-kart thing after practice?”

“Yeah, it’s fun. And Coach suggested it as a bonding thing. You going?”

“I guess. I mean I feel like I should maybe spend more time on the ice. My speed sprints weren’t as good as I would have liked…”