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Chapter One

Cole

T his can not be happening to me. Again. Hopefully, this time, the outcome is different.

“Here we are again. The Portland Timberwolves and the Boise Wolverines are fighting for a win in the Western Conference Championship.” One of the announcer's voices fills the arena.

My knee bounces up and down, the only sign of my nerves as my teammate skates toward center ice. Today was supposed to be our day to win. We took an early lead in the first period and held it until the third, but then we—honestly, I don’t know what we did, but it wasn't quality hockey. Now it all comes down to a shootout to determine who will head to the Stanley Cup Finals. Here’s hoping that things go better than the game did, or we can kiss our chances goodbye.

The rivalry between our teams has been going on for years, long before I even joined the league. We have been neck and neck almost every year, fighting for the top spot in the Western Conference. What was once a friendly rivalry has turned into indescribable tension and just downright bad blood between us. Today is no exception. Between the many fights that broke out on the ice during regulation time and the trash-talking, you could cut the tension in the arena with a knife, poised to erupt the moment a winner is declared.

“The score is 1-1. The Timberwolves had a chance to pull ahead in this last round, but the Wolverine's goaltender, Mark Harvey, made a spectacular save, keeping them in this game. Let’s just hope they can light the lamp for a second time with this next shot, Tom.”

As the home team, Portland chose to shoot second. Their choice surprised me, but I figured their mistake was our gain. That is, until Coach made the last-minute decision to switch Leon in for Sims in the second round. Now I’m not so sure, but I'm optimistic, although I have this nagging feeling that he’s sabotaging us on purpose.

The Timberwolves’ long-time announcer’s voice is laced with concern. “The Wolverines are taking an enormous risk naming Leon as their second shooter. Leon hasn’t scored on Beau Hendrix once during the entire best-of-seven series.”

You and me both. Leon hasn’t been able to hit the broadside of a barn at all during this series. If I’m being honest, he’s been off for weeks now, but no one has said a word. A fact that might just cost us a chance at the championship.

I’m good, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t have the best scoring average against my brother, especially during the conference championships. I’ve gotten plenty of shots, but my shooting percentage is only a little over 13 percent. Not too bad, but it’s definitely not something to write home about. Putting all the weight of the win into my gloves was intentional.

“That’s right, Tom. If Leon misses this goal, he puts all the pressure on the youngest Hendrix brother to bring the Wolverines the win.”

Can they ever just use my name? I played my first NHL hockey game for the Wolverines a couple of months after my eighteenth birthday. I’ve played in countless games, but still, my entire career is boiled down to being Cooper and Beau Hendrix’s little brother, especially when we’re playing each other.

Management has made it perfectly clear that signing me to the team all those years ago was nothing more than a ploy to get my brothers to join the team. They assumed that because Cooper and Beau were close, we all were. What an absolute crock of shit, especially after what Cooper has done. Ever since I found out his secret, I haven’t been able to look him in the eye.

“Here comes Leon, the second shooter for the Wolverines,” Tom says as the entire area is silenced. Every person is on the edge of their seat, waiting to see if the Wolverines take the lead or if the Timberwolves keep their Western Conference Championship dreams alive.

The referee drops the puck at center ice and gets out of the way as Leon makes his way toward the goal. The minute I see him deke the puck to the right, I know there’s no way he’s scoring. Leon’s been using the same tired moves all series, hoping to catch Beau off guard and slide the puck in behind him, but he’s failed every single time. Anyone else would have switched it up, tried something different, anything to throw my brother off, but Leon’s cocky. He has underestimated Beau, the same way he has always underestimated me.

“Leon comes in on Beau Hendrix to the backhand… Oh my God, what a save! Beau Hendrix has kept the Timberwolves' Stanley Cup dreams alive with that save.”

The arena erupts into a mix of boos and cheers as the puck drops from Beau’s glove onto the ice beside him. The sound is almost deafening as Leon skates toward the bench. Coach opens the door to the box moments before Leon comes to stop in front of it and steps inside. No one says a word as Leon rips his helmet off his head and throws it toward the opposite end of the box. It goes flying, barely missing hitting our teammate sitting at the end of the bench.

“You better not fuck this up, Hendrix,” he growls, his face full of nothing but contempt.

I bite my tongue, holding back the bitter retort on the end. I glance down the bench, looking for some backup or words of encouragement from my teammates. We all know that nothing good ever comes from getting in Leon’s face, especially when we play the Timberwolves, but the silence stings.

My teammates have the same opinion of me as management. They love me when I help them win and couldn't care less what I do when I don’t. But? I’m desperate to stay.

The contract offer from the Wolverines came at the perfect time in my life. I needed to get away from that house, from my brothers, from everyone, because it was all a lie. I needed something that wasn’t tainted by brothers. A chance for me to be someone other than Cooper and Beau Hendrix’s little brother. Too bad it was all a goddamn lie. Everything is riding on us winning this game. My entire career has boiled down to me being able to beat my two big brothers.

“Let’s just hope Coop doesn’t have all his moves back,” someone on the other end of the bench says as Cooper gets prepared to make his way onto the ice. I watch my brother as he slides his hands into his gloves and turns to speak to Coach Mercer.

“I should’ve taken out his knee a second time during the game.” Leon plops down on the bench, a few people between us, before pulling off his gloves. “Then we’d have the win in the bag for sure. The Timberwolves are nothing without Hendrix.”

“Cooper being on the ice has nothing to do with us being in this position, Leon. They played harder today. End of story. Besides, cheating isn’t how we want to win,” I respond without thinking.

The moment the words are out of my mouth, I instantly regret them. Although no one could prove it, everyone on the bench believes Leon intentionally injured my brother last year, hoping it would give us the edge to win the game. Unfortunately for him, that plan backfired, and we lost. Again. Cooper ended up on the injured reserve list for most of this season, but was moved back to the game day lineup right before the playoffs started, and he came out ready to go. I guess watching his team from the sidelines for most of the season rekindled his love for the game, although I doubt that’s the case. If what I’ve been seeing online is true, a certain someone might have more to do with it than people know.

“Do you want to go, Hendrix? Your brothers won’t be able to protect you from me.” Leon lunges toward me, but the players between us push to their feet. Each one places a hand on his chest, pushing him back slightly and shaking their heads. The last thing we need is to make a scene, and we all know it.

I should keep my mouth shut and stop egging Leon on, but I decide against it. Leon has been on my ass about my brothers since day one on the team, and I’m fucking sick of it. Sick of being compared to the two future hockey legends. Constantly in their shadow, never being given a chance to prove myself as a hockey player.

“I have never needed either of my brothers’ help for anything, Leon. Sit your ass down, and stop embarrassing yourself and the team.”

My eyes lock on Cooper as he steps out of the box, but he doesn’t even glance in my direction. His eyes are focused on center ice and the task at hand. A small part of me wants my big brother to look in my direction and give me a reassuring smile, letting me know that either way, he’ll still have my back. But that’s never going to happen.

I haven’t said more than two words to him since the night I left our childhood home, and whatever he has to say doesn’t matter. Cooper and Beau Hendrix aren’t my brothers; right now; they are my enemies. They are the two people standing in my way of making all my dreams come true.

I watch as Harvey warms himself up, stretching his legs and arms so he’s prepared for whatever Cooper might throw his way. He’s no stranger to Cooper’s slap and backhand shot, but you never know which he’s going to choose. There is no rhyme or reason to what my brother does. It’s as if he can, in the moment, feel the exact thing to do in order to get his desired results, and I fucking hate his guts for it.

“Cooper Hendrix hasn’t played most of the season because of a knee injury, but he battled back to lead his team to another Western Conference Championship.”

“Like I need more of a reminder,” I mumble to myself as the announcers continue their conversation over the microphone.

“That’s right. I’m sure Timberwolves fans were worried about their chances of even making it to the conference championship without Cooper. He’s the heart and soul of the Timberwolves team. The fact that his team was able to rally around him, giving him another chance at the cup, is a testament to their dedication and heart.”

For fuck’s sake. Cooper wasn’t the first person to tear his ACL from a hard hit, and he won’t be the last. However, the way the announcers talk about him, you’d think he was a god who just turned water into wine. Cooper Hendrix is nothing special. He put in the work and made it back on the ice. Just like all the rest of us have done. Period.

“Hendrix hasn’t had a shootout attempt in the last two seasons. Let’s hope he can put the puck in the back of the net this time and put the Timberwolves in the lead.”

Silence descends over the entire arena, everyone on the edge of their seats waiting to see what happens. Instead of watching, my head drops to my knees as I mentally prepare myself to go out onto the ice. I inhale deeply, attempting to center myself. I need to score this goal for a multitude of reasons. For my team, for a chance to win the Stanley Cup, but most of all, for myself. For a chance to silence the nagging voice in the back of my mind telling me I’ll never be as good as my oldest brother, Cooper Hendrix.

The Timberwolves’ bench erupts into a series of loud cheers as Tom’s booming voice fills the arena. “Welcome to the Cooper Hendrix Show! Now everything rests on the shoulders of Cole Hendrix.”

“Of course, it does,” I mumble before pushing to my feet, shoving my hands into my gloves, and grabbing my stick.

There are no words of encouragement from my teammates, just complete silence. I expect nothing from my team. Their thoughts are written all over their faces. They wish Cooper was on their team instead of me. They used to be better at hiding it, but it’s always been there. Now the question is, will I still be welcome if I miss this shot?

Management has been threatening not to renew my contract for months because I refused to convince Cooper to come over to the team. I never told anyone about their threats, deciding to put my head down and work harder, but Remy found out. There’s no doubt in my mind that he told Cooper. Thankfully, my brother has gotten over his white knight complex and has left me alone to deal with this myself, but I don’t know if I can hold management off any longer. Focus, Cole. Score the goal, and win the game. They can’t bitch if you’re the hero.

“Sending good vibes to Cole Hendrix as he skates toward center ice. He scored both of the Wolverines’ goals today. Let’s hope he can score one more and send his team to the Stanley Cup Finals for the first time in years.”

No pressure, asshole. This isn’t the first time we’ve had to face off against our biggest rivals, the Timberwolves, for the conference championship. Ever since I entered the league, we haven’t won one championship. We’ve gotten to this final game against the Timberwolves, and then nothing.

“The only thing standing in his way is his older brother, Beau Hendrix. Cole has not had a shootout attempt this season, but if anyone can score on Beau, it’s him.”

Can they just shut the fuck up? I don’t need the constant reminders that I’m chasing my brothers. I’ve been one step behind Cooper and Beau my entire life. For once, I want a chance to stand out, to show the world that I’m an individual, not just the little brother to two future hockey legends. This is my chance.

I take a deep breath as the referee blows his whistle, signaling me to proceed. Nothing else matters but putting the puck into the back of the net.

I sprint forward, straight toward Beau in the center of the net. His eyes are focused on the puck, not paying attention to anything I’m doing. I could try something fancy to grab his attention and knock him off balance, but I’m not one to play games when my future is on the line. Beau has been a little slower with his trapper than usual, so my best bet is to try a backhanded shot. If I skate in close and lift it enough, I can get it up and over his glove before he even knows what happened.

“Here comes Cole with speed, heading toward Beau Hendrix. He pulls back, stopping to—wait… no, he goes in for the backhand. Oh, no! I can’t believe it!”

Fuck. I can’t believe it either. I missed. Denied another chance at the Stanley Cup. My shoulders slump forward in defeat as the noise of the crowd weighs on me, feeling like a million pounds. My knees threaten to buckle, but I will not give them the satisfaction. At this moment, I know my hockey career is over. Not unless I can pull some miracle out of my ass.

“Good game, little brother.” I school my features as I turn toward my brother, wiping all emotions from my face. “If it were anyone else, that would’ve gone in for sure, but I taught you everything you know, remember?”

Of course, I fucking remember. No one will ever let me forget that my brothers are some of the greatest hockey players of all time. That everything I have is because I have them as brothers. Fuck me. When am I finally going to beat one of my brothers? Once the third-best Hendrix brother, always the third-best Hendrix brother, I guess.

“Good game, Beau,” I grumble just as I feel someone tug hard on the back of my jersey before something comes smashing into the back of my head. My body lunges forward, and my face smashes into the ice. I see stars as I try to push up off the ice, but I’m immediately pressed back down.

“Get your goddamn hands off my brother!” Cooper bellows, the sound of his voice echoing in my ears as my head ricochets off the ice a second time.

With the way Cooper is acting, I doubt that it was anyone from the Timberwolves that sucker punched me from behind, so that only leaves one other option: my teammates. I knew they had it out for me, but never in a million years would I believe that something like this would happen.

“Come on, Cole. Let’s get you up off the ice,” Beau whispers, grabbing my left shoulder and attempting to lay me on my back, but my right arm is pinned under me. My torso twists, and I hear a loud popping noise as excruciating pain rips through my shoulder and down my arm, causing me to clench my eyes closed tightly.

“You wouldn’t even have a place on the team if they didn’t want your damn brothers so badly. Too bad we got stuck with the throwaway Hendrix,” Leon bellows before something connects with the right side of my head, and my mind descends into darkness.