Page 12 of For Puck’s Sake (Seattle Vipers #2)

ELEVEN

RIDLEY

“ W e would like to thank The Seattle Vipers today, especially Captain Tor Bailey, for creating and funding this wonderful charity, Prestige. With his help we’ve seen so many of our local athletes achieve their dreams of playing hockey, both on a collegiate and professional level.”

Applause erupts all around the hockey rink as parents and eager kids await the opening of this year’s camp. Of course, we can’t begin without a very unnecessary speech from the head of Lark Bay’s town council, Selah Brookes. Brea’s mom stands in the middle of the rink, hair up in a tight updo, gold rimmed glasses shield eyes so much like her daughter’s, my chest tightens uncomfortably at the sight. From her light brown skin, height, and slender build, Selah Brookes is the older, posher, stick-up-her-ass version of Brea. She stands ramrod straight, in a red pants suit and black high heels that have no business on the ice. Although Rick placed a navy-blue carpet down to protect the ice from her, it still feels inappropriate. Like she said, this is Tor’s charity, his event, there is no association with Lark Bay and its money-hoarding council other than the community center. But who am I to complain? Apparently, Selah is determined to make her presence known this morning and inquiring minds would love to know why. I said inquiring minds, of course, and I have reason to believe it has everything to do with her daughter.

“I wish every child here great success in the next few weeks. Who knows, like Mr. Shaw here, we could be gazing at one of our next big stars.” Selah gestures to Derrick who’s skating beyond the carpeted area laying down cones for the skating drills we have planned this morning. Derrick stops as the audience cheers, and the poor man doesn’t know what to do with himself. He waves, then cuts his eyes to me in a scream for help. I can’t help myself, I snort a laugh, causing Bast to grunt his displeasure next to me.

“I’m not here to listen to droned out speeches, Masters. I’m here to teach hockey,” Bast grumbles next to me, arms folded over his chest in irritation. He and Devan arrived at the crack of dawn and checked into the town’s only luxury B&B. It seems Tor’s guest rooms are not up for grabs whilst they are here. It’s a little scary how well he played Fairy Godmother. Now that he has Alexis, he is all about playing matchmaker. If Bast and Devan were at the house there wouldn’t be a lot of time to have Brea to myself. Well, okay, I am jumping the gun here. I am still riding the high of her agreeing to lunch. It’s a step in the right direction. I didn’t think she would have agreed so easily. I’ll take what I can get. Plans are already forming in my head for our pseudo-date, and hopefully for much more in the future. This time I’m playing for keeps.

“Stop your bitching, big guy, it’s almost over. She’s running out of steam.”

I nod my head in the direction of the ice just in time to hear Selah say, “Thank you.” The crowd begins to applaud as she walks off the ice toward another woman who quickly passes her a bottle of water and what looks like antibacterial wipes. I scoff, she talked for less than ten minutes, and the poor woman is scrambling around her like she’s run a marathon. Laughable.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. There’s no way she’s Brea’s mom.” Devan observes as he looks up from his phone and gives Selah a once over. I lean over to look beyond Bast to reply but Devan has turned his attention back to his phone screen, typing away furiously. He smiles down at whatever he’s writing, and I narrow my eyes at the sight. I open my mouth to give him shit but I’m interrupted by a clearing throat.

“Ridley, it is so good to see you again.” I turn in time to see Selah’s outstretched hand and I find myself looking down at the sparkling rings and long manicured fingernails. I pause, unsure what to say, of course, being polite is not the first thing to come to mind. But I reign in my anger for this woman out of respect for her daughter.

“Selah, it is good to see you too. Thank you for stopping by this morning. I’m sure the residents of this community are happy to see their local Council leader talking about a program and singing its praises when they don’t put a dime into it or the building.” I wave my hand in a flourish around the arena with the biggest smile on my face. Bast snorts behind me and Devan whistles low at my jab. If my words bother her in any way she doesn’t show it. The other Councilwoman beside her at least has the nerve to look sheepish.

“Well, Mr. Masters,” she gives me an unperturbed look and throws her shoulder back, as if the gesture could give her more authority when she speaks. I didn’t miss the “Mr. Masters” instead of Ridley though. Good, we are not close, we were never on a first name basis even when I was with her daughter. In fact, I don’t think I remember her ever calling me anything other than the hockey player. “In a community such as this, our town’s funds can only stretch so far. We must prioritize?—"

“Housing?” Bast asks, making me do a double take over my shoulder. Sebastian is a man of few words and the fact that he is jumping in on the conversation surprises the hell out of me. Even Devan drops his phone down at the interruption.

Selah’s eyes travel beyond me to my teammate. She quickly purses her lips to try to rattle off excuses, but it seems Bast is feeling talkative this morning.

“How many housing initiatives have you vetoed this year, councilwoman? How many times have plans for affordable new housing developments landed on your desk and you opted to keep your gardens maintained up in your gated community instead?” I arch a brow, surprised at how much Bast knows about this community. But he frowns down at her in the take no prisoners goalie way that makes even the most seasoned of hockey player flinch as they approach the crease.

Selah opens and closes her mouth, then looks to the other woman for help. I assume she must be on the council herself and not the assistant I thought she was because she fumbles to answer.

The older woman smooths down her graying hair and sighs. “Well, plans like those, as Councilwoman Brookes stated before you interrupted her, take time. We?—"

“It’s not hard to find out this information, your votes are public knowledge. All I had to do was look on the internet this morning after I saw the state of the trailer park neighborhoods and houses that are so old they’re standing by the sheer will of those who inhabit them. But I digress, long story short, if you’re going to come in here and speak to these children and their parents about the future or whatever, tell them you’re going to provide their families with proper roofs over their heads so that these same children can rest easily at night. Don’t come in here scratching up the ice in your stilettos to piggyback on my teammate’s generosity,” Bast says, clearly annoyed about the unexpected speech this morning. And what a way to show it.

I don’t have anything to add, and Devan is clearly tickled to pieces because he is laughing his head off behind us. Selah looks at us, her face flushed with what I can only assume is pent up anger. The woman beside her deflates once more, I guess she wasn’t ready for Bast to go all protector of the people on her ass.

“I will look into this issue, Mr.—"

“Bergeron,” Bast replies with a toothy smile, making him look feral and scary as hell.

Selah forces a smile at Bast then quickly looks at me. “Well, we won’t hold you up any longer. I wanted to stop over and say it is unfortunate that my daughter made another poor choice when she broke off your engagement. It seems she continues to disappoint her father and me. What a shame. Or maybe not.” Selah inclines her head. She gives me a once over, I guess she has decided I’m not worthy of her daughter after she’s been called out for her negligence of the community she’s supposed to serve. Selah turns and her shadow stumbles behind her as they attempt to leave down the ramp.

I don’t let her get far before I am on her heels. There is a reason why I never liked this woman. I don’t blame Brea for walking away and never looking back. Her parents never gave her a reason to. It’s their way or no way at all. “You know nothing. You have no idea why things ended the way they did. If you were a better mother, a better parent, you would have been there for her when she needed you,” I blurt without thinking. I know I should hold my tongue, but this woman is infuriating. Her daughter could have died, she had no one but me by her side in her time of need. Where was her family? Sulking because she didn’t pursue the life they wanted for her. They’re shitty people and they don’t deserve to be called parents.

Selah turns, and for a second I think she is going to ask me something concerning Brea. For a brief moment there is a flicker of something, but she quickly schools her features. “My daughter made it perfectly clear that she doesn’t need me or her father. We gave her everything and she continues to be a disappointment. Now, if you will excuse me, Mr. Masters, I have other engagements.”

I watch her go. Brea’s mother is delusional. She truly believes she has Brea’s best interests at heart. But all she wants is control. Brea is not Selah’s child, she’s her trophy. The thought makes me appreciate my own parents and how they supported Lia and me, no matter what. They loved us unconditionally, and it makes me sad my girl never had that.

A shrill whistle blares behind me, snapping me into action as Bast’s booming voice cuts through the fog of my thoughts. “Okay, we are going to start the morning with drills. Defensemen, or boys,” he smiles, and it is his first genuine smile all morning. “You’re with me. All age groups.” He blows the whistle again as Devan skates in a wide circle with a stick in hand. I turn, letting all my thoughts of Brea and her mother fade to the back of my mind. I leave my worries outside the ice, grab my stick and hop over the boards.

“Let’s play hockey!” I shout as I join them.

“Never, and I mean never leave me with the ten-years-olds ever again!” Devan tosses back his beer, slamming the bottle on the table looking like he’s gone fifty rounds with a heavyweight champion.

Bast, Derrick, and I all fall into fits of laughter as we sit around him at a table on the second-floor balcony of Red’s, with a clear view of the stage below. The place is packed, especially on the ground floor as everyone waits for Brea to take the stage tonight. The air is charged with anticipation. After this morning and our little text exchange, I’m giddy. Yep, I’ve got twelve-year-old girl butterflies. I have a sister, and Lia explained the feeling in great detail when she was crushing on Randall Smith in sixth grade. My baby sister was beside herself with heart eyes. So, yeah, I’m feeling it. I don’t know what to expect, but I’m excited at the prospect of starting over. Maybe Brea is feeling the same way too. I guess I’ll have to wait and see.

It was easy to convince the guys to come out and celebrate with me tonight, so I am glad for the company. We survived our first official day of hockey camp. Well, some of us fared better than others. After drills the four of us drew straws for what age group we would ref for during their preliminary scrimmages. Let’s just say, I was glad I got the sixteen-to eighteen-year-olds.

“You’re an enforcer. I thought ten-year-old boys would be a cake-walk for you,” I tease as Devan cuts me a death glare.

Derrick tips his bottle in my direction and grimaces. “I’m just glad it wasn’t me. I’m too pretty for a black eye.” He laughs, then raises his hand to his eye mouthing ouch. Devan huffs and points at Derrick.

“Be glad you’re a goalie, youngin’, I uphold the laws of hockey sanctity. If you weren’t, I’d spend your rookie season making you pay anytime we shared the ice,” Devan taunts, making Bast and I reply with resounding hoots of laughter.

Derrick holds up his hands in surrender, eyes wide in terror. “I didn’t mean it, I mean.” He looks at me and then Bast but gets no back up. If he is going to give Devan shit, he has to learn to accept the consequences. “Those kids were scrappy. I was just saying I was glad I didn’t get caught up in a melee of peewee gladiators. Did you see the way they slid between your legs to get to one another. Little gloved fists laying into each other. It was brutal. They were like slippery fish, and when you fell on your ass, I was like dammmmnnn. You didn’t stand a chance, the way the one kid threw his stick like a javelin and hit you in the eye?—"

“Stop while you’re ahead, Baby Shaw. Devan here is not all teddy bear, he is an enforcer for a reason,” Bast warns Derrick with a pat on his shoulder. Derrick’s head snaps to the spot Bast touches and his brown skin reddens a fraction. I raise my eyebrows and look around the table, but no one else seems to notice. Well, I guess someone does indeed have a little bit of a crush. Interesting.

“I don’t think any one of us could have dodged a stick to the eye. Gloves were everywhere, little bodies were colliding and throwing punches. You two,” Devan points two fingers at Bast and me as he uses his second beer to rest against his swollen eye. “We are teammates. What happened to you having my back? I expected help. Wait until I tell Tor. You bitches will need me before I need you.” He points to Derrick, then to himself. “And I’m too pretty to have a black eye.” He huffs again, and I can’t help myself, I’m clutching my stomach from laughing so hard. The fight was comedy gold. What Devan doesn’t know is we recorded it all and can’t wait to show it to the team during training camp.

Bast coughs. “I could have dodged the stick easily.” He adds with a good-natured grunt as he smirks at a fuming Devan.

Devan throws his hands up in the air, beer sloshing out the top of his long neck bottle as he gestures animatedly. “You’re a goalie. It’s your job!”

Bast shrugs. “True.”

I’m in hysterics over their exchange, I don’t notice Red’s approach until she’s dropping more beers off at our table.

“Looks like the first day of hockey camp was a success.” Her eyes cut to Devan in sympathy, as she sits a Ziplock bag full of ice down along with his new beer. She takes our empty bottles, placing them on her empty tray and props it against her hip. Devan thanks her, taking the makeshift icepack, tilts his head back and lays it over his left eye. Thank goodness we have medics on hand, and they were able to check him over. The stick will only leave a bruised eye, nothing Devan hasn’t had before in a game. But I was biting my nails there for a bit. Coach would kill us if he got injured during summer break.

“Tell me, which one of you told councilwoman Brookes off so thoroughly you left her speechless and running back up to her goblin cave.” She looks at each of us expectantly and I snort. Goblin cave, that’s a good one .

“That would be Sebastian here. He’s a man of few words, but when he uses them, they cut deep. Who knew?” I throw my thumb in Bast’s direction, he nods his head and bows. I don’t think I’ve ever witnessed him so carefree. He’s spoken more words today than he has in months. It’s good to see him relaxed like this.

“You did the people of this town a favor. Word spread all over town and a lot of people are gearing up to be at the next town meeting to address the issue of housing. Your drinks are on the house, Bast.” She winks and taps the table with her fist. “Sometimes you only need one person to shed light on things in order for people to act. Looks like hockey players are a good boost for morale around here.”

“It appears so. Tor and his merry men.” Devan chuckles, bringing his head up, catching the icepack in his hand. “I think Alexis needs a new story idea,” he says as he pulls out his phone and starts tapping away. I have no doubt he is sending a text to Paris.

“I can’t believe you guys know Jaz Starr, I mean, Alexis. I’m so jealous. I love her books. Keeps a girl company on those lonely nights.” She chuckles and turns to leave us. “Brea’s on in five,” she says as she tosses up her hand in goodbye and heads back downstairs.

“Smut is the way!” Devan shouts with a whoop. Looks like the beer is finally starting to affect him. I don’t have the heart to stop him, but he is going to pay for it tomorrow when he’s stuck with the kiddos again. I won’t rain on his parade tonight though with that news.

Derrick tilts his head and narrows his eyes at Devan. “So, the rumors are true. You read romance novels and host a podcast where you talk about them?” he asks curiously.

“Not a rumor. It’s true.” Bast rolls his eyes. “He’s more obsessed with Alexis than her fiancé, and that’s saying something.

Devan’s mouth parts in shock. “Hey, I’m obsessed with her writing. She’s a smutty genius. My eyes are well and truly on—” he stops himself and looks at me, then closes his mouth.

I narrow my eyes, and he looks away just as the stage lights dim and the crowd begins to clap and cheer.

“Whoa! Brea!” Devan hollers then wolf whistles as she walks out on stage already strumming her guitar softly as she walks toward the mic.

I smirk at the back of his head as he claps enthusiastically. Clearly he is happy for the distraction, but I have a feeling I know exactly what he was going to say. His eyes are well and truly on my sister. I’m okay with that, but I do love the idea of making him sweat though.

“Good evening. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Brea Brookes,” she says as she continues to play. The audience goes wild, and so do I. I stand and clap, fighting the urge to go to the balcony rail and camp out there so she can see me. But I refrain.

“I’ve never seen her before!” Derrick shouts over the noise and Bast shoots him a genuine wide-eyed look of surprise.

“You’re in for a treat, Baby Shaw,” Bast says with a wink. He winked. Is he flirting?

I turn my attention back to Brea, too stunned by how comfortable Bast is with Derrick to tease him about it. Maybe later. Bast doesn’t make friends so easily. He’s even calling him Baby Shaw, interesting. Hell, it took us an entire year to melt his icy facade.

“Tonight, I’m going to do something different. I’m going to play some of my favorite songs for you. How do you feel about that?” Brea asks the crowd. Shouts of yes, yeah, and sing Brea can be heard from various people around the bar. Brea smiles at the replies as the chords she’s playing get louder and I recognize one of my favorite songs. The familiar lyrics leave me stunned as Brea begins to sing the opening verse of ‘Sparks’ by Coldplay.

“Oh, come on, Luna, you can’t discount the rest of the album. ‘Everything’s Not Lost’ is not the only good song on the album,” I said incredulously as Brea laughed from the passenger seat of our SUV. She knew I loved Coldplay, no, I was obsessed. Coldplay wasn’t a band, they were a feeling. I still rocked A Rush of Blood to the Head for my pregame warm up. I was like their uber-fan.

“If you say ‘Yellow’ one more time, I’m going to scream,” she said as she hung her head out of the window, her locs blew in the wind as she screamed into the sky. Leave it to Brea to be over the top. I couldn’t love her any less. I found myself looking at her more than the road. God, I loved this woman. But she was loopy if she thought Parachutes was not one of the greatest albums ever made. Okay, it was definitely in my top one hundred.

“Okay, so ‘Yellow’ was overplayed a bit ? —"

“A bit. Oh please, Rid. How many times did you watch Chris Martin walking along the beach looking rain-swept and forlorn?” She bellowed with laughter as she flopped back down in her seat.

“Too many times to count,” I mumbled my reply, and she only laughed harder. I looked over at her once more, fought back my own smile, then turned my attention back to the road. I loved those moments, just me, my girl, and the open road. We argued about music and got lost in getting lost. No destination. We didn’t have a lot of days like that, but when we did, we just enjoyed the ride.

“Okay, let me play you my favorite song and you can give me your honest opinion,” I said with finality, before we moved on to one of her favorite albums.

Brea blew out a breath and rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. She leaned over in my direction, and I met her in the middle for a brief kiss on her lips. She moved and I moved, she ebbed and I flowed, there was no me without her.

“Fine. Win me over. Let’s hear it,” she said as she pulled away.

I fiddled with my phone, then placed both hands on the wheel as ‘Sparks’ began to play.

The applause of the audience pulls me from my memories.

“Thank you,” Brea says with a bow to the crowd. She perches on her stool with Bessie resting on her knees and goes into her next song seamlessly. I remember the day I first played the song for her, and she begrudgingly fell in love with the lyrics.

“I wonder, who she played Coldplay for tonight,” Devan teases, eyes raising suggestively.

“Oh, fuck off, Scott.” I look away, but I can’t hide my smile. She played it for me, and I can’t stop my heart from skipping with joy. Dare I say with hope.

It’s a sign, right?

For the rest of Brea’s set, she guides me down memory lane, playing our favorite songs. Both mine and hers. It’s our story.

So, definitely a sign.