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HARRISON

I’ve been playing in Santa Monica for two weeks now. Six games. I’m feeling pretty good. Working hard.

We’ve won five of those six games. I have four goals, four assists. Not too shabby.

And yet, I have a feeling I’m still not doing my best.

The first game I played after getting called up was against the Long Beach Golden Eagles, which is our big local rival. The fans get super worked up for every “Beach Barn Battle” against the Eagles. A lot of Eagles fans come too, so the atmosphere in the Coliseum is pretty crazy.

It was a big game for me. The two teams are adversaries because of more than just a local rivalry. My half brother Matthew owns the Eagles, and my other half brother Mark is the coach. This is a confusing, long story, but Matthew apparently bought the team after Dad fired Mark as coach of the Condors. He fired him because he was pissed that Mark and Matthew were suing him, accusing him of stealing money from them. It’s nuts, but we’re trying to sort out this crazy conflict.

So, a bunch of my family was at that game. My dad comes to every game, obviously, as the team owner, but my mom, Everly, and Ash were there too. And because it was the Eagles, Mark and Matthew were there, and I was playing against my nephew Jean Paul, known as JP.

We lost that game, which was disappointing. Personally, I felt good about how I played. I was still irritated about the little talk I’d had with Coach where he basically told me I was lazy and I needed to get off my ass. Maybe that lit a fire under said lazy butt, because I was determined to show him he was wrong.

You don’t get what you wish for, you get what you work for.

The loss just made me even more determined to do better. Hockey’s a team sport and it’s not about me showing off for my family, though I’ll admit I want to impress them; it’s about winning. We need to win .

I’ve been working with Stan on transitions. He got Bellsy to come and practice with us and he’s a damn good D-man, so it’s been great. He gets us doing one-on-one drills, making me backcheck then transition to offense, and a bunch of other drills.

There are only three weeks left in the regular season. We have a playoff spot locked up, but we still don’t know if we’ll have home-ice advantage, since we’ve been neck and neck with Vancouver in the points race. Every time we get ahead of them, they win and jump over us.

It’s Saturday. We practiced this morning, but we don’t have a game tonight. We just got back from a short road trip where we had back-to-back games in Denver and Phoenix.

It’s great having a Saturday night off, but I’m spending it with a bunch of family.

Not that I don’t love my family. I do. But we have a lot of, er, issues.

For this family meeting, I don’t have to come all the way from Pasadena. Asher and I drive together from our place on Pine Street to our nephew’s place in Marina del Rey.

Our dad had two kids with his first wife, our half brothers Matthew and Mark. Théo is Matthew’s son, so yeah, he’s our nephew, but he’s only two years older than us.

“Hopefully this shit is getting fixed,” Asher mutters as he drives along Lincoln Boulevard.

“Yep.”

There’s been a black cloud over the family for years. Maybe I should say “clouds.” When my dad remarried, the family was pretty upset. His first wife had died only a couple of years before that, and our mom is twenty years younger than him. You can see why the family thought she was marrying him for his money and that Dad was blinded by her youth and good looks. Dad’s sons from his first marriage had a hard time dealing with Mom and Dad having kids while they were also having kids. So there were already some bad feelings when Mark and Matthew started pestering Dad about some money issues a few years ago, and now they’re freakin’ suing him. Not only that, Matthew bought the rival team and stole Mark away from Dad’s team.

A while back I suggested to Everly that we, meaning the younger Wynn family members, should try to figure out what’s going on with this lawsuit to see if we could end this family feud. We’ve had a couple of meetings and each of us has spoken to various older Wynn family members and reported back.

Then Everly lost her shit at a hockey game, that same first game I played at, which meant my great play didn’t even get noticed. Whatever.

This was not like Everly, and kind of shocking. She does not lose her shit. Ever. That was why I suggested she be the one to lead this plan. She likes to be in charge of everything. And I’m speaking as her little brother who she put makeup on, whose hair she curled, and who she dressed in a flowered dress to have a tea party with her dolls.

Anyway, with Mom and Dad, Asher, and Matthew all in one room, Everly told Matthew our suspicions about Dad. Now it’s all out in the open.

We park and walk a block or so to Théo’s house, right on the beach. He and his wife, Lacey, have rented this place since Dad hired him as general manager last summer. He hasn’t even managed the team for a full season, but I think he’s doing amazing. It has to be challenging, though, working for Dad. Especially now.

It’s late afternoon, a sunny day with the ocean sparkling blue and gold in the distance, people walking and biking on the path and playing volleyball on the beach. I ring the doorbell and then open the door to step inside.

Lacey appears. “Hey, Harry! Hey, Ash.”

I roll my eyes at the nickname. It’s what my teammates have always called me, so I’m used to it, but it’s not my name. “Hey, Lace. How’s it going?”

“Good. Come on in. You guys want a beer?”

“Oh, hell yeah,” I answer.

“Yep,” Ash replies.

She laughs and heads to the fridge while we turn in to the living room. Everly’s already here, along with JP, his girlfriend Taylor, and Théo, of course. My other brother Noah and our niece Riley drove up from San Diego. Only Jackson isn’t here. He lives in Chicago and lucky him, he’s missing out on all this shit.

We exchange greetings and take seats. Lacey hands Ash and me beers.

“Okay, we’re all here now,” Everly says. “So.” She looks around at us. “I guess you all know that I confronted Matthew and Dad at the game a couple of weeks ago.”

We all nod. “What’s up with that, Ev?” I ask, loosely holding my beer. “We had a plan.”

“I know.” She gives me a toothy grin. “Sorry about wrecking the plan. I... well, the truth is...” She pauses and I can see she’s getting emotional. Shit. “Well, I’ll just be blunt. If Dad is dying, this all seems so ridiculous.”

“He’s not dying,” I immediately object.

Everyone exchanges uncomfortable glances.

My gut cramps. “I mean, not right away.”

I don’t know much about different kinds of dementia, but I talked to one of my Pasadena Condors teammates about it once. His grandma has Alzheimer’s, and he makes it sound pretty goddamn terrifying.

“Maybe not,” Everly concedes. “But we don’t know for sure what’s going on with him. Mom’s taking him to the doctor next week. She’s going with him.”

“Maybe you should go too,” Ash suggests to Everly.

She shakes her head. “Mom can handle it.”

“Are you sure?” I ask. “I know she’s strong, but this is tough stuff.”

“I’d totally go if she wanted me to. But I think she’s got this. We’re all just happy he finally agreed to go.”

“It hasn’t happened yet,” Noah mutters.

“True.” Everly sighs.

We’ve had a hard time convincing Dad he needs to see a doctor. It would be easy to just take his word for it that he’s fine, but we all know he has to do it.

“I’ve discovered a few bad business decisions he made the last couple of years,” Théo says quietly. “This has been going on for longer than we realized, I think.”

“He’s damn good at covering it up,” JP puts in. His girlfriend reaches for his hand and squeezes it.

“He is,” Everly agrees. “Anyway, we’ll see what comes of that. But I kind of had a moment... fighting over money is stupid. I basically told Matthew that family is more important than money.” She tips her head. “And I know it’s privileged to say that, because we all have more than enough money. But seriously, we don’t know how long Dad has left, or how long we’ll have him ...” She makes air quotes with her fingers. “Because this disease is stealing him from us. I’m sure Mark and Matthew don’t want that to be how things end with their father.”

“I think you’re right,” JP says. “Dad wants to go to the doctor appointment next week too.” His dad, meaning, Matthew, Dad’s oldest son.

My eyes pop open wide. “Wow. Really?”

“Yeah.” JP winces. “But Chelsea won’t let him.”

“Well, that sucks,” Riley says. She’s Mark’s daughter. “He should be able to.”

“Do you blame her?” Everly challenges Riley. There’s always been tension between these two, since Riley’s dad has never liked our mom, and we’ve always tried to defend her. “Nobody trusted her for years. Why would she trust them?”

Riley purses her lips. “Fair, I guess.”

“Mark and Dad are going to sit down with Dad and Chelsea,” JP adds. “They’re waiting until after the appointment.”

“Okay.” Everly nods. “That’s good.”

“You were great that night,” Ash tells Everly, smiling. “I damn near died when you went off like that.”

Ash was at the game in the press box and had stopped by Dad’s box between periods when this all went down.

“Thanks.” Everly beams.

“And you’re right, Everly,” JP says. “About family and money.” He looks around. “Hopefully they can settle things. It really seems that Grandpa owes Dad and Uncle Mark money.”

We’ve learned that Dad didn’t steal money; he actually borrowed it from a trust fund that belonged to Mark and Matthew, which was their inheritance from their mom, with legal documents all drawn up. But he was supposed to pay it back, and he hasn’t, which is why they ended up suing him.

The media had a field day with that, holy shit. It’s died down from when the suit was first filed, but everyone knew it was going on and that there was bad blood between the King of Hockey and his sons.

I don’t know why he’s not paying them back, but that worries me too. Is it the Alzheimer’s? Is it because he has no money? Christ, I hope he hasn’t bankrupted the team. Or himself.

“Théo,” I say. “Can Dad afford to pay back the money? We all know that the Condors aren’t a big money-making team.”

Théo blows out a breath. “I don’t know. I know the finances of the team, but not his personal situation.”

“What if...” I hesitate. “What if he can’t pay it back? What then?”

Everyone trades uneasy glances again. Silence as heavy as a Zamboni falls over the room.

Everly speaks first. “We’ll deal with that when we come to it.”

We all nod.

“What else do we need to do?” Everly gazes around at us.

“Make sure Dad goes to the doctor,” I say.

“And make sure Uncle Mark and Dad sit down with Grandpa and Chelsea,” JP adds.

“If they don’t... we’ll need to get involved. Are you all ready for that?” Everly asks.

We all speak up in the affirmative.

“Okay. We’ll check in with each other in a couple of weeks. No need to meet unless things don’t go right.”

“Sounds good to me.” I lift my beer bottle to my lips.

Everly pulls her phone out and starts tapping the screen with her thumbs. “Texting Wyatt,” she says. “Telling him he can come over now.”

Her boyfriend Wyatt Bell, known to players as Bellsy, lives in the same building, a three-unit condo.

“He could’ve been here,” I say.

“He wouldn’t.” She sets down her phone and lifts her wineglass. “He says it’s family stuff, and it’s awkward that he plays for the team.”

I respect that.

Lacey heads to the kitchen and Théo heads outside to get the barbecue going. They offered to make dinner for us. Bellsy arrives and heads straight to Everly, sliding a hand around the back of her neck and kissing her forehead.

She closes her eyes briefly, smiling.

I’ve never seen my sister like this. It’s weird, but nice. I’m happy for her.

When we’re not talking about our family issues, we all get along pretty well. Riley offers to help in the kitchen, JP and I head out to the patio to stand with Théo around the barbecue in manly fashion while drinking beer, and Taylor and Everly come sit outside and start talking about their yoga classes.

Yoga. Damn.

“Don’t remind me about yoga class,” I tell them. I was crushing on the sexy yoga instructor until I accidentally knocked her into the water. Way to make a good impression. The humiliation still burns every time I think of it.

They grin. “I’m sure you want to forget that,” Taylor says.

“I’ll never make you come to class again,” Everly adds.

“You seriously went to another of her classes after that?” I ask.

“Yeah.” Everly shrugs. “I considered changing to a different class, but she’s a great instructor. I really like her classes.”

“Same,” Taylor says. “She’s really down-to-earth.”

“Or down-to-water,” Everly says.

They both laugh.

“So funny,” I mutter.

Riley, Noah, and Ash haven’t heard the story, so Everly entertains them with an exaggerated version of it. A little exaggerated.

Hey, I’m a good sport. I can laugh at myself.

Théo starts flipping burgers on the grill and it smells amazing. Lacey sets out bowls of pretzels and nuts, and I grab a handful of cashews.

“Hey, you guys hear what happened to our mascot last weekend?” Noah asks. He plays for the Eagles’ farm team, the San Diego Hawks.

Riley starts laughing. Apparently, she’s heard.

“What?” I ask.

“He was at some kids’ event and decided he was going to run at the glass window. He thought it was like the glass on the ice, and he could just throw himself at it and bounce off it. But he smashed the glass.”

“Oh my God!” the women all exclaim.

We’re all laughing and shaking our heads.

“Is he okay?” Lacey demands.

“Yeah, he’s fine. The costume protected him, I guess. It’s on video. Wait, I can find it.” Noah pulls his phone out and we all gather around to watch the big hawk throwing himself through a glass window while the kids all freeze in shock.

“That’s hilarious. Who’s in the costume?”

“Guy named Ian.” Noah shakes his head, grinning. “He’s a nut, so this doesn’t surprise me.”

The shared laughter has totally changed the vibe, and I don’t even care that some of it was at me. Everly’s right—family’s important.

* * *

“Okay,” Gary, our strength-and-conditioning coach, announces in the dressing room after our morning skate Sunday. We have a game tonight against Florida. “We’re trying something new, starting tomorrow.”

“Oh shit,” Scotty says. “Now what? Some new kind of torture?”

Gary grins. “Yoga.”

Some of the guys groan, some stare in disbelief, others shrug.

“I can do yoga,” I say. I’ve been to a couple of classes.

“Yeah, me too,” Bellsy adds. We exchange mirthful glances, remembering our experience.

Gary spouts off about the benefits of yoga. “Never mind the woo-woo stuff,” he says. “There won’t be any meditation and aligning your chakras.”

I snort out a laugh.

“It won’t be like that. This is about increasing your balance and flexibility. Lots of you guys are hurting this late in the season. We need to try to gain every advantage we can heading into the playoffs.”

Ugh. I’m not sure I buy it, but whatever. I know other teams are trying it.

“Tomorrow morning, in the weight room, nine o’clock sharp.”

I make a face as I toss my practice jersey to Joe to add it to the laundry. Great, even earlier start time. But what the hell. They want every advantage we can get, and so do I. If a yoga class is part of it, so be it.

* * *

I’m picturing the weight room with dim lights and some kind of new age music playing softly when I arrive at the Coliseum the next morning.

I’m tired and sore and haven’t managed to down my giant Starbucks coffee yet. We won last night again, but it damn near killed us. We let things slide in the second period and got down by two goals. I was pissed and lectured everyone else before the third period because I wasn’t about to give up, and somehow we pulled it off with three unanswered goals, the last one with five minutes to go. That last five minutes was intense; the Panthers were throwing everything at us. It was a taste of what playoff hockey will be like. After coming back like that, there was no way I wanted to blow it in the last few minutes, so with grit and determination we hung on. Luckily Bergie was playing outstanding, making some incredible saves. Bellsy threw himself in front of the puck a few times and I bet he has the bruises to show for it. He’s nuts. In a good way.

The good thing was, Coach moved me up onto the second line, playing with Eddie Rintala, our superstar first-round draft pick, and Pavel Volkov. I played more minutes, and it felt like the three of us could really read each other.

I walk into the weight room. A few guys are already there. Space has been cleared on the floor for us, and they’re arranging colorful yoga mats.

I start toward the corner where Gary is talking to a woman... and I stop dead.

Arya. From Makara Yoga.

My mind blanks for a moment, thrilled to see her but not sure why she’s here. Then it clicks. She’s our yoga instructor!

Fan-fucking-tastic!