Page 13

Chapter thirteen

Raider

Coach Smith steps into my path just before I step onto the ice. First, there is the confusion, and then the dawning realisation that I think I know what he is doing, but there’s just no way, right? Instead, his lips turn down, and he can’t quite meet my eyes.

“You can’t go out and practice.”

I stare at him because his words just don’t make sense.

“Do you hear what I’m saying to you, Raines? Go sit on the bench and watch.”

The team has gone still on the ice, watching intently.

“But it’s practice. What do you mean, watch?” I say in shock. “If I miss practice, I’ll lose condition, it will be-”

“Who’s in charge here? I’m telling you to go sit on the fucking bench and watch the practice. I’m not asking, I’m telling.”

My fingers curl. I can’t move. I’m glued to the spot, watching my fucking career sink and flush down the goddamn drain. All those years of work, and this is how it’s going to end?

How is this happening? Why? I had nothing to do with Typhor. All he wanted was Kelly. He never even bothers looking in my direction. Why?

I storm back to the locker room and peel my gear off again. I grab my stick and spin, putting all my rage into bringing it down on the bench. It snaps.

I don’t feel better.

It’s my career, broken. Done.

I sit down, pull off my skates, and rip open the bench, pulling out my phone. In four seconds, I’ve found the number I haven’t called in a long fucking time. I press call .

“Pick up, you piece of shit!” I hiss.

“Raider?”

“Who the fuck do you think you are? You think this is a game? You can just fuck off and play rich boy and then bail, leaving me to pick up all the pieces? Then play god with everyone and send your fucking friend to ruin me?”

“Raider, I don’t understand-”

“Don’t fucking bullshit me, Kelly. You knew who he’d come after. I worked hard for this. I earned this. While our parents were mourning you being off with him, then gone, I was alone, studying, trying to win, and here I am in my last fucking year, and you’re all taking it away.”

Part of me knows I’m not being rational, but I don’t care. We played along like brothers when we went to check on Locke and rescue him, but this has been coming for years.

It’s been building like a volcano, and now, it’s active.

The last words he said to me before he vanished still haunt me.

“Raider! Stop. I didn’t do anything.”

“That’s exactly right. You didn’t do anything. You just left me to pick up and clean up your mess.”

Kelly is silent for a long moment. “I have to go.”

“Of course, you do. Why aren’t I surprised? Hey, Kelly?”

“What?”

“You disappoint me with every breath you take.” I throw the words he broke my heart with back at him.

Kelly inhales sharply. “Raider, I didn’t mean-”

“Forget it. Go back to your happy island. Forget about us.”

I end the call and realise with frustration that I feel worse.

So I tear the locker room apart. When I come to, I’m almost blind with rage. I’m dripping in sweat and my chest is heaving, but the room is wrecked.

I stalk out of the room, refusing to look at Wren, who tracks my movements. I’m dressed, I have my bag, and I’m ready to go.

I am done.

I stand up on the plastic seats and cup my hands around my mouth.

“I FUCKING QUIT. SHOVE YOUR FUCKING CONTRACT UP YOUR ASS.”

The coach whirls around, his face drains of colour and goes white. “You can’t.”

“Fucking watch me. My contract allows me to quit at any time. Ask Callan. He checked it with his lawyer friend, and I’ll sort it out with Andreas tomorrow,” I snarl, belatedly remembering my agent .

I pull my hood up and turn, stalking towards the exit, ignoring Wesley, who calls for me to come back.

I make it outside and find Callan. He spots me, and I can see on his face that he knows something is up, but he can read the nuances of the closed off bonds better than I can. I don’t let him talk. Fuck, I don’t want to talk. I slam our mouths together and push him up against the wall, running my hands up under his shirt.

He kisses me back with equal fervor.

I kiss him until I can no longer hide. I pull back and rest my head on his shoulder.

Callan is the solid strength, my anchor. The person who is in my corner when all of everyone else isn’t.

“They benched me for practice.”

“Oh, Raider, I’m so sorry.”

“I quit.”

“Is that what you want to do?”

“I don’t want to spend my last game on the bench. I don’t want to sit and watch my team play while I’m stuck by two assholes who are deciding to punish me for my brother’s mistake.”

“Okay.”

And that’s what I love about Callan. He supports my decisions. He doesn’t argue with me or tell me I’m wrong. Callan doesn’t try to convince me to do things his way. He simply accepts that I can make my own choices.

And he trusts me.

Wren comes storming out, looking in both directions. He isn’t wearing shoes or skates, just socks. He marches up to me and, just when I think he’s going to hit me, he hugs me and Callan.

The warmth and strong feel of his body makes me feel smaller and safe, even though we’re the same size.

“You’re not angry?”

“Not at you.”

I close my eyes at the relief. I didn’t know until that moment that I was worried about what he would think. I was worried if he would call me an idiot and try to force me to go back and beg.

I’m not begging.

Ever.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Wren nods. “Give me ten minutes, and we can head home.”

We don’t head home. Wren ends up in a huge meeting with the team, and I end up being dragged back inside. My agent is on the phone when I walk in to find the whole team standing with their arms crossed.

“Coach Smith,” our CEO and the team owner Haydan Bently says. They’ve got several screens up, and I see the board. “Are you telling me the entire team has quit?”

My jaw drops open. What?

“Yes, Alpha.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve benched Raider Raines, and when he quit, they quit in protest. We can replace them all.”

“And throw away an entire season? Absolutely not.”

Michelle Papers leans forward on her screen. “Why have you benched the team’s best defense-”

“He’s not the best-”

“Are you daft, Smith? He’s our best defender. Everyone knows it. Why have you benched him?”

Smith starts to sweat. “To give the others more time on the ice-”

“Horse shit!” Michelle spits.

Smith looks around, but he looks a little ill and desperate. I almost feel sorry for him.

“It’s a long story,” Smith confesses. He looks like he may cry. “But the gist of it is Typhor Raines has decided that his nephew should not be playing hockey and has threatened to ruin the team if he does.”

Several CEOs sit up.

“Oh, has he now?”

I remember the rumors I heard a few years back about Uncle Typhor and Haydan’s now ex-beta.

“This is going to need a conversation. Guys, clear the room. We’ll call you back in an hour.”

“Raider, we want you back on the ice immediately. ”

“What about my uncle, Alpha Bently?”

“Who cares? Big men blow hard, and he’s full of hot air. He can mess around and play with the music world, but Typhor Raines has no power over the ice.”

“Absolutely not!”

I look at the screens, seeing face after face, nodding in approval. My heart soars into my mouth, leaving me feeling dizzy with relief.

“I can play?”

“Yes. You can play. Smith, you’ll be watched carefully from now on, and if you are approached again, I want a recording and to know the minute it’s over.”

“Yes, Alpha.”

“Everything goes back to normal, you hear me?”

“Yes, Alpha,” Coach says meekly. His face is red, and he looks like he’s going to cry.

“Good. We’ll see you on the ice when you all meet at Charleston.” Haydan Bently smiles and lifts a hand before closing his screen. The others wave and sign off, but I’m too stunned to respond to them.

Wren puts an arm over my shoulder and drags me closer to him.

“Its all good now.”

“Yes!”

“Ready to go home!”

I nod, and then start to laugh.

I rip the necklace off the door handle and hold it up so I can look at it. It’s a strange piece. Rose-gold, elegant, with a little circle that has a tiger etched inside.

“Our fans are getting ridiculous,” I say to Wren. “How do you think they got our address?”

“Probably followed us home,” Wren says and takes the necklace. He grips the delicate chain and turns it over, but there’s nothing on the other side.

I take the necklace back and shove it in my pocket, open the door, and promptly forget it.

The sounds of nature reach my ears.

“Oh, no!”

Callan pushes past me and runs inside. I follow a bit slower. Wren leans in close.

“What’s going on?”

“Drunk Yoga. ”

“What’s that?”

“When Kit gets upset, he doesn’t like to tell us, he likes to hide it, wait until we both go out, and then drink and do yoga.”

“What is he upset about?”

I shrug because I don’t want to reveal Kit’s secret.

But when we get into the lounge, I remember something I forgot. We don’t have one person who stayed at home, we had two, and, judging by the way she’s trying to climb Callan, she enjoyed Drunk Yoga, too.

Callan gasps and hoists her up. She wraps her arms and legs around him and holds on, giggling.

Kit makes a noise and continues doing whatever he’s doing. Wait- is he making snow angels out of talcum powder?

“I’m not cleaning that up!” I snap, but I can’t stay angry at them, especially not when Kit looks so adorably messed up.

It’s not usual to see him in anything less than perfection, so this is just a real treat. I go and sit beside him.

“Raider!” he says and holds out his arms for a hug.

I decide what the fuck and lean down and hug him.

“I’m playing again!”

“You are?”

“I am. They fixed it.”

Kit kisses me. It’s sloppy and perfect. I pull him closer to me. He smells of talc, and every movement sends a puff of white powder into the air. But this is one of the best days of my life.

Nothing can ruin this.

Kit blinks up at me with tears in his eyes.

“You are perfect, and I love you. I don’t regret a thing,” I whisper and reach out slowly to take his phone away from him.

Kit’s lower lip trembles.

“Not one moment.”

He gets up, stumbling and unbalanced, but throws himself into my arms, holding on to me tight.

Wren takes the phone and presses play on the voicemail. I know that because Jay, Callan’s asshole father’s voice, suddenly comes into the room, deep and hurtful.

Ryann slides down Callan’s body and pushes away from him, but I don’t think he notices. He just listens to the vile message .

I don’t know how many Kit gets. I’ve told him to block Jay, but Kit says he can’t do that. Callan stalks over to Wren and snatches the phone out of his hand.

He ends the voicemail and, a second later, another one starts. Kit crumbles in my arms, getting smaller and smaller.

“Callan?”

Callan shakes his head. “Give me the keys.”

“No.”

“Raider, give me the keys to the car.”

I shake my head.

Callan turns to Wren. “Give me the keys-”

“No, I’ll drive you.”

Callan’s eyes flash with gratitude. I want to stop them, argue with them, but Callan probably needs to do this.

“Block his number in Kit’s phone while you’re there,” Ryann’s tipsy voice slurs.

I sweep her and Kit up and herd them towards the dining room. “Sit down. Let’s get some water into you.”

Kit giggles and runs away, which then has Ryann running away. I chase them back to the lounge, where I’m grabbed and pulled down. The next thing I know, I've got Kit on one side and Ryann on the other, and they just relax.

The still-hurting jagged memories of Kelly fade away, soothed by the balm of my alpha and our temporary beta.

I find myself relaxing to the sounds of nature, and then Kit hands me the bottle.

“Raider, have you ever tried Drunk Yoga?”