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Chapter Twenty-One

“We’ve got the head coach and Pendleton Princess carting around everyone’s favorite drooly mastiff. A Living Legend who needs hugs and understanding. And a certain Czech winger staking claims.” Penni’s Puckleberry Tea

Boh

The only way I’d survive this tournament was alcohol. I relinquished driving to AB who looked none the worse for the wear after his summer of partying in the desert. I settled into the front passenger side and pilfered a lager from the strapped on cooler. Aubrey fussed, muttering something I didn’t catch. I sent a chin lift to Rook who’d done me a solid and taken the hit of sitting with her on the back bench seat.

I shouldn’t have agreed to come. The instant Aubrey attached herself to my side, I should have made it clear she needed to shove off.

It felt good to move around without crutches, felt good to bask in the sunshine and not wince at the brightness. It felt good to feel closer to myself.

Until Shep unáhlel Novy into a cart. And she’d gone with him. With a smile on her face.

Up ahead, Novy was cozied up to Shep in the back seat of their cart. The sight set off sparks in my brain. They were friends, she’d said.

Problem was, he was my friend, too. I knew him well. He was a good guy. Cocky, but solid.

They both came from the same world.

And he didn’t have a fucked up brain.

We played through Shep’s group. And two more groups after them. AB and Rook wanted out of the cart and away from Aubrey nearly as much as I did. We were the first group to return to the clubhouse. The instant my feet hit the ground I ignored Aubrey’s nagging voice, and headed over to the covered portion of the veranda where they’d set up a bar and tables. Before I could find an empty table, someone called out my name.

“Bohdan Zacha, get your ass over here!”

NHL legend Tom Edwards waved at me from a table on the veranda. He’d retired in the area and now regularly showed up for sponsored events. Free beer, he’d say. Over the last few years, he’d shared tips and gossip equally, but I hadn’t seen him since flaming out at the end of the season.

“Mr. Edwards,” I said as I approached, rubbing my hand over my chest. Bo?e, pomoz mi, don’t let him mention my screw up. “Good to see you, sir.”

He latched a hand at the back of my neck and pulled me in for a brusque hug. The motion startled me, but I gently slapped his back in the way men do. His wife caught my gaze from her spot at the table. Her expression was as surprised as I felt. It wasn’t like Tom to be so expressive.

“Ms. Edwards,” I said. “How are you?” During my early days with the Renegades, she’d been like a house mom, keeping me fed and pointed in the right direction when sometimes it was all I could do to stay upright. The two of them treated me well, almost like an adopted grandson. For a young player many thousand miles from home, they’d been an unexpected blessing.

“She’s the same as she ever was, old and cranky.”

I jerked, my gaze snapping back to the man I considered a mentor in so many ways. My fingers tight around the lager in my hand, my gaze bounced from Ms. Edwards’ pained grimace to Tom’s smiling, oblivious face. She shook her head at me, but I didn’t understand her silent message.

“Ms. Edwards looks as amazing as always.”

“Don’t bother with the pointless flattery, my boy. Don’t bother with her at all. I do my best not to, that’s for damn sure.” He looked around the table, shrugging off his wife’s hand when she tried to move him toward one of the chairs. “I don’t need to sit, Katie, I need a goddamn beer.”

Tom shoved away from the table like a boat shoving away from the shore, stumbling as he turned in the direction of the veranda bar. He grasped the back of a chair, ignoring the occupant, and swayed on his feet. Ms. Edwards made to grasp his elbow, but he jerked his arm away, swinging it in the air. “I’m fine, Katie, leave me alone. I’m going to get us both beers, Zacha. We need to talk about that shitty playoff run and that idiotic wreck with Hammer. Back in my day, the coach would have had us in lockdown come playoffs. What were you two thinking?”

I stood beside Ms. Edwards as her husband stumbled, regained his footing and staggered to the bar. Was he already drunk? “How much has he had to drink?”

Ms. Edwards shifted, her gaze flitting over my face only to return to her husband where he stood in line. “TBI, Boh. Post concussion syndrome. He had so many concussions during his playing years, the doctors say his brain is damaged. He won’t hear of it, of course. Not big, bad Tom the Train Edwards. But his personality is changing every day. It’s been a long time since I saw the man I married.”

“But he was fine at the last tournament. He hasn’t played in years. Did he have a fall or accident or something?”

“Nothing. The doctors say it’s just catching up with him now. They’ve prescribed medication, but he isn’t good about taking it and as much as I try to help, sometimes he just won’t have it.”

“It’s been years, though.” The idea of Tom flipping into this aggressive, angry man all of the sudden shocked me. “Did you see signs of it coming on?”

“The brain is a tricky thing. That’s what the doctors keep saying. Sometimes he has these intense, nasty episodes. They’re lasting longer now. Where he is downright vicious, it’s hard to believe he’s the same Tom that wouldn’t cross a parking lot without holding my hand. He’ll probably crash tonight. Tomorrow he’ll turn into a vegetable, barely functional. It’s the new cycle of our life.”

She swiped a trembling finger under her eyes. “He had an episode last month where he wouldn’t move from the couch for two days. I was bringing him food, protein drinks, whatever he needed. He said he just couldn’t get up. He couldn’t move. When he said anything at all.”

She looked over at me, her eyes glistening as she whispered, “He soiled himself, Boh. Can you imagine? He couldn’t get up, he said. Just couldn’t.”

Her voice trailed off, a tremulous whisper with a heavy coat of shock and sadness. I cleared my throat, my chest tight. “You should have called me.”

“He doesn’t want anyone to see him like that.”

“Call me next time. If it happens again, call me.”

She was silent and I knew it would take a miracle for her to actually call me. She’d been Ms. Tom Edwards for too long. His pride was hers. While I understood, it frustrated me. His health needed to come first.

“He was fine the last time I saw him. And it’s not like he’s old.” Tom was only in his late fifties.

“It comes and goes a lot, especially at first. He’d be better if we’d done more about his condition earlier. But then, they know more now than we did a decade ago.” She wrapped her fingers around my forearm, looking up at me with earnest eyes. “I know how much you mean to him, Boh. Don’t let anything he says today bother you. This man isn’t our Tom. Not when he’s like this.”

Mr. Edwards turned away from the bar with two bottles in hand and moved to walk back to our table. He took several steps, swayed, and reached out to grab the back of another chair. But he still held a bottle in his hand and dropped it when he grabbed at the chair. He missed the chair and tumbled down with a loud curse. “Goddammit!”

“Tom!” Ms. Edwards darted forward, shoving herself between the people who rushed to the hockey legend’s aid.

I scrambled after her, his cursing filling the air. He snarled at his wife, pushed away helping hands, and wobbled to his feet again. But his expression shifted, his eyes clouding over with confusion as he took in the spectators. Color filled his cheeks. He’d broken at least one bottle in the fall and beer drenched his trousers.

I strode to his side, locking my arm around his shoulders in a way I would have done a million times in the past, but this time, I pulled his weight to me and kept him stable. “You’re gonna have to change your clothes, old man. Mr. Pendleton sees you looking like this, he’ll go ballistic.”

I added a laugh, harsh and artificial, but it broke the quiet that had descended on the veranda. Ms. Edwards and I worked together to get Tom back to the passenger seat of his car and I waved them off with a sad smile.

A loud bell chimed, signaling the return of more golfers and jolting me from my thoughts. I made my way back toward the other guests, but Ms. Edwards’ words replayed over and over in my mind. Was that what I had to look forward to in my future?

With a bit of guilt, I was glad Tom had left. I didn’t need the image of a stumbling, helpless man muddying up my mind. I needed to get back on the ice. I was better. Better every day. A month ago, I couldn’t stand looking at the glow from a lamp, but here I stood in the bright Virginia sunshine and my head felt fine.

I walked to the edge of the veranda. Coach Trasier and Scout Pendleton walked up the steps with Coach’s giant dog between them.

Coach gave me a look. “That Tom Edwards I saw taking off?”

I nodded, my gaze roaming over the golf carts dotting the trail back. When we’d passed Coach out on the course, Novy’s group had been right behind him.

“He doing alright?”

“He spilled some beer, soaked his pants.”

“Been hearing about his condition. I was surprised to see him here today.”

I grunted.

“Everytime I get a report from Brightside about you, I can’t help but think about you, Boh. He’s the reason you have to take this recovery seriously.”

“I passed my last evaluation with flying colors. Perfect. I’m fine. Whatever is going on with Tom, it’s not the same.”

“But it could be if you don’t take this shit seriously.”

Scout straightened upright from where she’d been petting the dog. She pointed toward the golf course. “Is that Shep and Novy?”

One of the carts had pulled off the asphalt trail to park under a big sycamore tree. They were too far away for me to make out the details, but when they moved to stand near the base of the tree together, I clenched my teeth. Their two companions moved from the back bench seat to the front. Something was said to cause Shep to bend over with a laugh and Novy to wave.

Were they leaving them alone? Why were they leaving them behind? Something in my chest burned and my fingers pulled into a fist.

“They’ve been friends a long time,” Scout said.

I didn’t pull my gaze away from the pair under the tree. Several beats passed as they stood, facing each other, chatting. The burn in my chest spread. “What do they have to talk about?”

“What do friends talk about? Anything and everything.”

Just then, Shep must have said something Novy didn’t like as she shoved his shoulder with a laugh I could almost hear. Or at least, I could imagine it. The way she laughed, the way the sound rippled through me. They way I liked her laugh and the way it soothed the sharp edges of my day.

Shep bent down and picked something up, passing whatever it was to Novy. Standing right behind her as they both inspected the mysterious object like two scientists discovering life on Earth. Standing so close, Shep’s chest probably brushed against her back.

“Coach, you leave the keys in the cart?”

“ Oui .”

Ignoring Scout’s snicker, I strode to the golf cart and pointed it toward my best friend and Novy. A moment later, they looked up as the cart rocked to a halt a few steps from them. I catapulted out, crossed the distance between us, and hauled Novy up against my chest.

“Boh!” She wiggled, shock in her exclamation.

“Time to head home, Novy.” I ignored Shep’s bark of laughter and tossed Novy into the cart. “Enjoy your walk, Landon.”

“Boh, let him get in!”

“Nope. We’re leaving.” I slanted her a sidelong look. “I’m not feeling well.”

She pivoted instantly and guilt shafted through me like a blade. “What’s wrong?”

I didn’t respond and two minutes later, I pulled up in front of Coach and Scout again. Novy hustled over to her friend. “I have to leave. Boh isn’t feeling well.”

“Oh really,” the Pendleton Princess said with an exaggerated drawl. She eyed me with a smirk a blind man could see.

“Headache,” I said.

“Whatever. Novy, you better say goodbye to Aunt Minerva or she’ll pitch a fit.”

As Novy hustled over to the older woman standing in a group at the center of the veranda, Scout looked to me. “You’re going to go to hell for that.”

“Mind your own business, Princess.”

Coach cleared his throat, shifting to put himself in my line of sight. His eyes blazed a warning. “Watch yourself, Zacha.”

“Rather be a princess than a dirty lying liar, Boh Zacha. I’ll be telling Novy all about your made up headache.”

“But not today.” I nodded goodbye to Coach and made my way to Novy. By the time I reached her, she’d turned away from the group of people she’d been talking to, saving me the hassle of greeting them. I steered her to the parking lot and into the car.

We were safely on the way back to my apartment when I spoke. “You sure seemed cozy today.”

“You know Scout and I have been friends for years. We’ve probably even attended some of the same events as you over the years.”

“I only come to the mandatory events. The golf tournament is usually tolerable.”

“This might be one of my favorite events the team puts on. This one and the Spring picnic.”

“You always hang with Shep, then?”

“Not always.” She shot me a quick look. “How’s your head?”

“Much better now.” I didn’t meet her eyes and faced the passenger window. I rubbed my palm along my thigh. “You have a thing for Landon?”

She laughed. “A thing?” She shook her head, her pretty hair sliding along her shoulders. “Shep is like the big brother every woman dreams of having.”

I narrowed my eyes on her. On the smile tipping up the corners of her lips. I didn’t like it. “Brother, huh?”

“You know, cracking jokes but reliable. Easy to be around.”

I stewed the rest of the way home. Nothing about me the last few weeks screamed ‘easy to be around’. But then, I wasn’t gunning for the title of favorite big brother, either. What was I gunning for?

My ankle had a little ache as I crossed the parking garage at Novy’s side, but years of aches and pains as an offensive player told me the ache would improve with therapy. With the crutches gone, I could walk closer to Novy. Right at her side.

Inside the elevator, I shifted until my arm brushed against hers. The numbers glowed above the elevator door tracking our progress. I let my pinky brush against the soft skin of her forearm.

The kiss we’d shared in the elevator flashed through my mind. I’d been aroused by her energy, by the competitive glint in her eyes after her derby bout. By the confidence brimming over as she swaggered around in her sexy as fuck outfit.

Had Landon ever attended one of her bouts?

The idea lanced through me, a fiery trail burning in its wake. I inhaled a long breath, closed my eyes and pushed the thoughts out of my mind. I didn’t need to be thinking about Novy and Shep. Whatever they had going on was none of my business. Novy was a necessary step to earning back my place with the team, nothing more.

A means to an end.

She reached up and pulled the little band holding her ponytail in place. The motion loosened her hair into gentle waves along her shoulders and back. Her irresistible meruňka scent filled the elevator cabin.

I inhaled a long, deep breath, wallowing in her sweet fragrance, imagining how it would cascade through me if I pulled her in closer. If I nuzzled against her throat, feathered my lips over her soft, golden skin.

My body liked the idea, blood surging straight to my dick. Desire, hot and thick, pulsing through me until I was hard as a steel rod.

If I filled my mind with Novy, I wouldn’t have room to think about Tom or doctors or Trent gunning for my spot or any of the bullshit that made up my life right now.

I’d spent the last part of the day battling my reaction to her. Dying to touch her. Denying the need to claim my place at her side. My hands trembled. The skin between my shoulder blades prickled. My mind clouded until one thought pushed out all others.

If I didn’t touch Novy, run my hands over her silken skin, taste her pretty pink lips, I would die. If she didn’t wrap herself around me in the next twenty seconds, I wasn’t sure I could take my next breath.

I was done resisting the attraction.