Page 76 of Heartbreak Hockey

I tilt my head. “How do you know that?”

He was waiting for this moment. Fresh victory spreads across his lips, and I feel every bit the simpleton he wants me to feel. “Because I know how to take care of him even when I’m not with him.”

Eventually, it comes to me and I’m grateful for the fact that TV raised me because only fiction could conceive what people with more money than God are capable of. “You have a private detective following him.”

His eyebrows flash as if to say,c’mon, you can do better than that.

“You have several people following him.” That means he had to know about me since the first time with Jack. What an asshole.

“Mmhmm,” he murmurs. “I never let Jack out of my sight or the sight of my people. He’s going to be an Elkington one day and Elkingtons should have the same protection as a royal. Don’t you want that for him,Merc?” He’s mocking me.

The question is ludicrous. He’s essentially asking if I want Jack to be safe. Of course, I do. I’m not sure he needs the protection of royalty. I don’t bother answering. “Maybe I haven’t known him for as long as you have, but I know he wouldn’t like you spying on him.”

“Not spying. Protecting. Taking care of him.”

“Call it whatever you want. He’ll still be pissed when he finds out.”

He laughs. “Jack? Jack loves this shit. Go ahead. Tell him. Find out his reaction for yourself.”

No. He can’t be right. He’s bluffing. He’s also getting under my skin, which means he’s good at the games he plays and I’m certain I don’t know the half of what he’s done. It’s clear what he’s up to. There’s only one thing for me to do and that’s for me to be a cockier jackass than he’s being.

I down the rest of my ginger beer and throw some money on the bar top.

“Look kid, Jack and I are fucking. I dunno what your pack of James Bond rookies told you, but it’s not serious. Your presence here means you’re worried and deep down you know it even if you won’t admit that to me, otherwise you would have shown up a helluva lot sooner.”

He clenches. I’m right. Oh, how I love being right. “He needed to get this out of his system, or he would have always wondered. Now he knows. He was never meant to make it to the NHL. That was always my role. Jack wants a family. Domesticity. He loves doting on me. He won’t have time do that if he’s—”

He cuts himself off and shoves his drink to his lips. He’s said more than he wanted to.

The upside to having abandonment trauma is my ability to make it look like I don’t give a fuck. Meanwhile, I actually give lots and lots of fucks. I want to grind Rhett into a fine powder and send him off into the wind.

But he buys my nonchalance and that’s a good thing. I’ve also riled him to fuck and while I may have turned part love-sick sap for Jack that shit’sonlyfor Jack. The rest of me is still a reckless asshole.

“If Jack wants to cut me loose then he can, until then I’ll be fucking him because I’m the only one he wants fucking him.”

He never takes his eyes off his glass, circling the rim with one thick finger. “I can ruin you, Coach Meyer.”

A heartbeat of intimidation runs through me and at the same time, I want to laugh at his on-point impression of every supervillain from the eighties. The reality of his statement diffuses into the air like rotten three-day-old hockey gear. I have the most to lose. Sure, my best friend is his coach, but I’m adult enough that I’m not going to have him axe Elkington over my relationship drama, and even if I was that petty, it would be a mere road bump for someone like Rhett who will probably own the first mansion on Mars.

“That would hurt Jack.”

“It’s the only reason you’re safe, for now. I know you don’t think so, but I love Jack more than anything.” I’ve never seen anyone chug Courvoisier until Rhett. I guess hockey Gods can do those kinds of things. Or maybe just Elkingtons.

God, I fucking hate him.

“Yeah, well until then.” I walk off as cool and collected as I can while pouring a heavy dose of “no fucks to give” into the air.

Dammit. I thought I felt helpless when I got fired from the NHL after one season. It doesn’t compare to this. Rhett’s never going to let go of Jack and he’s got me in checkmate because there’s a limit to the moves I can make. I have a family to love and protect.

Which he must know because of his little fucking spy club.

Is Jack worth all this? Rhett had one point; I haven’t known Jack all that long. Maybe all Jack did was open a door and show me how to love again. Aren’t all first loves like this? You only think there’s no one you could love more and then you move past the heartbreak to discover the true love of your life around another corner. It’s the theme of every rom-com. I could be a late—very late—bloomer.

Huh, never wanted a love of my life before.

Okay, maybe Rhett had two points because if it’s true that Jack agreed to go with him at the end of the season and he left that part out in our chat the other night, I need to check myself. Jack and I have an agreement. He was very clear with me, and I need to respect that. No more daydreaming when he’s not in my arms. He’s mine when he’s in them and the rest of the time, he’s a free bird that can fly off to Rhett if he wants to.

And fine, also no more pissing contests with Rhett no matter how fun it is to antagonize him.