Page 3

Chapter 2

Nash

I toss and turn all night so it’s no surprise when I open the front door to my loft the first words out of my twin’s mouth are, “You look like garbage.”

"I know," I grunt and immediately reach for the bag in his hand. I didn't expect him here. I mean, he didn't call and we didn't have a set rendezvous, but I knew, inherently, he would show up.

He had the good sense to bring Erewhon, which is my favorite, albeit incredibly bougie, food store in Los Angeles. I open the bag. He pulled out all the stops. He got me a turkey bacon, egg white burrito, Matcha overnight oats, and he’s holding a tray with a coconut cloud smoothie for me and a Malibu mango one for him. “You’re a fantastic brother.”

“I know.” Crew steps into the loft and closes the door behind him as I take the bag and smoothies and walk to the back of the loft where my kitchen is located.

Crew usually makes some kind of dig when he's at my place. He calls the kitchen a morgue because of the stainless steel countertops and appliances and the way it's always gleaming and spotless. He jokes about the starkness of the massive living room, usually commenting on why someone would own a massive cavernous space with fourteen-foot ceilings, and barely have any furniture. Crew's home decor style, like everything else about him, is very different than mine. The fact that he isn't teasing me now means that he thinks this accidental marriage is serious.

He drops himself onto one of the stools at my double wide kitchen island and I walk around and lean on the counter on the other side. I reach for a spoon and dig into the overnight oats. “You not hungry?”

"I cooked breakfast for Liv and me at home before I left."

It's so weird to me that Crew is so casual about his cohabitation. Liv Garrison, unlike her cousin Tensely, is great. And she's been an excellent addition to Crew's life. Unlike his ex-wife, Liv gets the hockey life and doesn't interfere with it or complain about it. She's younger than Crew's ex but leaps and bounds more mature. She's what I would call an old soul. Still, I worry about how involved he is with her. They've been dating for less than a year and she essentially lives with him.

“Things are still good with you and Liv?” He nods as he sips his smoothie. “She’s ready for the intensity of the playoffs?”

“Her dad is Devin Garrison, dude. Her brother is Conner Garrison, the biggest comeback kid in the league. Her baby sister is Mae Garrison, the hottest goalie in the college league. She understands all aspects of hockey.” His tone is calm but I know I’m annoying him.

I shovel more oats into my mouth to avoid saying more. I remind myself I like Liv. Crew watches me and a small smile tugs on his mouth. “You’re the one who jumped into marriage with a Garrison, not me.”

I roll my eyes. “Ugh. Don’t remind me. I left an urgent email for Charlotte last night. I haven’t heard back yet.”

“It’s a weekend, Nash,” he reminds me. “She might not get back to you until Monday.”

“I don’t want to wait that long to fix this,” I complain as I finish the oats and drop the container into my recycling bin as I grab the burrito. “We start playoffs on Wednesday. I want this dealt with by then.”

“I’m fairly certain you can’t annul a marriage in forty-eight hours.”

“I’ll pay anything.” I sound so desperate I don’t even recognize my voice.

Crew laughs. Asshole. I don't say it, but I glare it and he reads it loud and clear. "I'm sorry but it's hilarious how much your two repulse each other. You're not a bad-looking dude…"

“Thanks.”

He tips his drink toward me. "We look incredibly similar. Of course, I think you're good-looking because I know I am. Anyway, Tenley is five-alarm fire hot. Like the classic American wet dream, and yet you act like she's the Hunchback of Notre Dame. And vice versa."

"Personality-wise the Hunchback is more likable than her."

“Maybe to you, but I’ve gotten to know Tenley well because of Liv and, honestly, Nash, she’s a gem,” Crew says. “She’s always there for Liv. She’s there for Tate. She’s working her ass off to make her own dreams come true and she’s like a second mom to Dylan. Definitely the best aunt that kid could ask for.”

“Great. I drunkenly, accidentally married a woman who is wonderful to everyone but me. Good to know.” I tear off another chunk of the burrito and when I’m done chewing and swallowing I add, “I’m still unmarrying her.”

“Yeah. I get it.” Crew is still smiling.

“Stop enjoying this.”

“It’s just… You will get this sorted and no one will ever know that you and Ten were married,” Crew says, and I feel relief when his expression finally turns serious. “And when all is well hopefully you look back on this and laugh. Or at the very least the next time you want to judge me you remember this and realize that you, too, can get yourself into some really stupid predicaments. God, that’s so refreshing to know.”

“I want to the throw this smoothie in your face.”

“It cost twenty bucks. Don’t.”

I don’t care about the cost but it is freaking delicious and hydrating the hell out of me, which I need since I had a couple more drinks when I got home last night to settle my nerves. “Want me to drive you to the meeting?”

“Yeah. Sure.” I turn and head toward the floating stairs next to the bathroom door. “Let me throw on some real clothes.”

Forty minutes later we're at the practice arena for our meeting. Usually, the smell of the ice (yes, ice has a smell, like fresh winter snow) and the familiarity of the stone walls and the people in Quake gear makes me feel good. It relaxes me, as does working out, which I intend to do after our meeting with the coach. But today none of this is calming me. I can feel a tension knot between my shoulder blades.

Crew and I are meeting with our head coach Jude Braddock. It’s a standard regroup before we start our playoff run, since we’re captains and Coach wants to make sure we’re on the same page with our attitude regarding the team. It’s not just a physical challenge, the playoffs, it’s a mental one too and if the captains don’t keep a positive, motivated locker room it can tank a playoff run as fast as a bunch of injuries.

Speaking of which… the dull ache in my leg isn't getting any dimmer. I promise to add that to the list of things I have to deal with before the first round starts. Braddock walks in wearing a Quake tracksuit and carrying a Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf coffee cup.

"Hey, boys. How we feeling about things?" He drops down into his seat across the desk and puts his cup down.

“Good,” Crew speaks for both of us. “We’ve been talking about how to keep the repeat pressure off and just get everyone to focus on the games one at a time.”

"That's the hardest part. And there'll be a lot of 'you scored this many goals or blocked this many shots this last season, why can't you do it this time' from the reporters. It can really get into some players' heads, so watch for it. Cut it off if reporters start it. And don't let it get in your heads." Braddock knows what he's doing. He's won back-to-back Cups as a player. There are a lot of eyes on him because if he wins back-to-back Cups as a coach too, it's something for the history books.

“Nash is better than anyone at keeping guys focused.”

“And Crew is good at keeping them motivated.”

Braddock smiles at us. “I gotta tell you both that I wasn’t sure we’d get here at the beginning of the season and I sure as hell wasn’t sure you two would become the leaders I knew you could be, together.”

He looks both proud and relieved. I feel a heavy layer of guilt settle over me at that. He has no idea how bad it actually got between us, or why. But the fact is, when we started this season, a bunch of miscommunication had my twin thinking I was embarrassed by his sexuality and I thought he just plain out hated me. Turns out we were both very wrong. We worked it out, granted it had to come to actual blows, but now we're stronger than ever. And it shows in the way we co-captain this team. It's unheard of to name two captains but Coach Braddock insisted. And it's working for us and the team.

"Our defense is weaker than I would like though," I admit. "I know he's basically a rookie since he didn't play a full season last year and only got pulled up after Landon left, and he's trying hard, but LeChance isn't as solid as we need."

“Landon left a gap that’s hard to fill, but we won without him last year and we can do it again.” Crew is way more optimistic than me and, as usual, more tactful.

LaChance turned over the puck seventeen times in last year’s playoffs. We managed to fix his mistakes, for the most part, and win, but we’re tired this time. And the other teams watch and study all our games, especially from last year’s Cup run. They all know he’s the weakest link now too, and they’ll exploit that.

Coach nods. “I agree. But as you know I can’t trade LaChance. We’re locked in this close to playoffs. And he might be struggling but he doesn’t deserve to be waivered.”

He sips his coffee again and then puts it back on the desk. “But he’s moving to the fourth line and will likely spend most of the run as a healthy scratch.”

“Won’t that leave a bigger hole, playing short?” Crew asks the question I was thinking too.

Coach smirks and points to Crew then me. “You know you two look way more similar when you’re both stressed. You furrow your brows the exact same way and you both pinch your lips tighter than an asshole.”

He’s laughing but I don’t get why he’s so chill considering what we’re talking about. “Anyway, we won’t be short-handed. Landon will be back.”

Both Crew and I jump in our seats, leaning forward with shock. “What? When?”

“Is he well enough? Are you sure?” Crew adds.

Coach nods and he doesn’t look the least bit worried, which is amazing. Landon Casco is an amazing player. He’s also Coach’s nephew. He collapsed during a practice and it turns out he had leukemia. He went back to his hometown of San Francisco for treatment and we’d been getting updates on him but no one said he was ready to come back.

“I didn’t want to say anything until I knew he was really ready,” Coach explains. “I flew home last weekend and watched him skate. He’s been practicing with the farm team, and he’s got a nutritionist, a personal trainer, and the all-clear from his team of doctors. Cancer is gone. Completely. He really doesn’t want to wait a second longer.”

The smile on Crew’s face is as huge as my own. “This is so great. Our motivation will be through the roof now. I’m so pumped. I can’t wait to see him again.”

“It’s fantastic. I can’t believe it. Coach, you and your sister must be so relieved,” I say, standing up.

“I’m not going to tell the team. I just want Landon to show up once he’s pulled off the Injury Reserve list by the league,” Coach explains. “We can let it be a surprise.”

“Sure thing.”

“Absolutely.”

We leave Coach’s office feeling great about the team. This is incredible news. Crew smacks me on the back. “Workout? Come on. I know you want to.”

“I do,” I admit and ignore his smug smile.

We change in the locker room and hit the gym. Coach walks by and notices us there. He’s not surprised to see us, even though our first official playoff practice isn’t until tomorrow. It’s a little less likely to see Crew do this but not me. I’m known to come in on days off. When I’m not in the gym, I’m watching game footage, studying plays, whatever.

It's a light, short workout for both of us, but my leg is aching like hell by the end of it so while Crew hits the sauna, I tell him I want to check in with Gabrielle, our head trainer. He winks at me but luckily doesn't say anything. I don't want to lie to him, but I'm not telling him about this potential injury. Crew will freak out, watch me like a hawk at practices and in games, and baby me. Or worse, tell our dad who will fly in experts from around the world, and then the media will hear about it and we'll be fucked.

Gabrielle is alone in her office. She's in a Quake T-shirt and a pair of leggings that show off her very fit form. She's a former professional hockey player herself and represented the US at the Olympics. She could actually be coaching, but she got obsessed with the physiology of athletes, got a degree in kinesiology and is working on a masters in sports psychology. She's also drop dead gorgeous, and could pass as Kaia Gerber's doppelganger.

“Nash.” She smiles when she sees me and stands up, circling her desk and walking towards me. “Work or pleasure?”

“Work.”

She closes the door. I stand there as she perches her butt on the corner of her desk, folding her arms in front of her. “Hit me. What do you need?”

“That leg thing from last year. It’s back.”

She furrows her brow. “You had surgery. It can’t be back.”

“Not the injury. I know that’s fixed but like the pain I had after the surgery. That nagging ache and the tenderness,” I explain. “It’s back in a can’t-be-ignored kind of way.”

"The timing is terrifying," Gabrielle announces as she walks over to the treatment room attached to her office. She motions for me to get up on the exam table. "If you aren't on the ice, we lose everything you bring plus half of what Crew brings. Twinstinct is your superpower."

Twinstinct is what the media dubbed the synchronicity that happens when Crew and I are on the ice together. They think we can read each other’s mind and since we can pass to each other without looking, it’s some twin-related telepathy thing. Really, it just comes from playing together since birth, but whatever. I don’t care what anyone calls it.

“I’m playing no matter what.”

“Nash…”

“No. You know how this works Gabby. It’s the time of year where we push it all aside, freeze whatever needs freezing, wrap whatever needs wrapping, and get on with it.” She frowns. I don’t care and my face shows it.

She sighs and her hands go to my leg. I jump a little because her hands are freezing. She chuckles. “Sorry.”

She spends a good five minutes pushing and prodding and then has me lie back and lifts my leg, twisting and turning the knee this way and that. She finally puts my leg back on the table. “You didn’t so much as flinch.”

“I know. It’s just this constant radiating pain, not attached to movement. When I’m out there on the ice, I’m cool. But sitting still, I can’t ignore it.”

“Hmm…” Gabrielle looks worried and that doesn’t help my own concerns. Her big brown eyes meet mine. “We need an x-ray.”

“Fuck. Really?”

“Yes. Sorry,” Gabrielle replies. “This could still be nothing. Muscle strain. Just some more loose cartilage we can freeze and worry about in the off-season. But we need to know for sure.”

“Okay. Fine. I’ll head to the clinic tomorrow,” I say, but I sound like a pouting child. As I swing my legs off the table my phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out and am thrilled to see my attorney Charlie Sullivan’s name. “Sorry. I have to take this.”

Gabrielle nods and leaves the room, heading back into her office. I stay in the exam room and answer the call. “Hey Charlie, thanks for getting back to me.”

“Of course,” Charlie says and the sympathy is already in her voice. “I see your little problem wasn’t as little as you thought it was.”

“Yeah. Why didn’t we find it in a record search?”

“Because they clearly hadn’t filed it yet,” Charlie explains. “And honestly, they might still have not filed it. I’ll do another check, with your permission.”

“Yeah. Please.”

“Can you scan the certificate and email it over to me?” Charlie requests. “Because if it’s not filed, I’ll contact the chapel and get it destroyed.”

“And then I’m not…” I glance into Gabriella’s office and she’s not even pretending not to listen to me. “We’re not. It’s just gone?”

“Poof! Like it never happened.”

“Great so I can finally forget what I don’t even remember.” I sigh, but there’s relief in it not just frustration because I’m hoping against hope that this chapel really did forget to file the marriage certificate.

“Exactly. Hang tight, Nash. Focus on the playoffs. I’ll get this settled,” Charlie promises. “Even if it is filed, we can annul it pretty quick considering neither of you remember it and haven’t lived together let alone assumed a married life or consummated the relationship.”

“Okay. Thanks. Please keep me posted on everything. Call day or night.”

“Will do.”

“And charge whatever it takes.”

She laughs. “I mean you two hate each other, which is usually a cash cow for me because the divorce takes long, but this one is gonna be quick and dirty, which means cheap.”

“I’ll pay anything to end this, though. Just know that.”

“Understood. Talk soon.”

I shove my cell in my pocket and walk back into Gabriella’s office. She’s smiling. “That sounded like a bed buddy situation gone wrong.”

It's weird for me the minute she says that. Because Gabrielle is a bed buddy. My bed buddy. Or at least she was, for most of the season. It was such a regular thing that I insisted we both go to HR and sign the required forms. The Quake doesn't fuck around with intra-office relationships and makes sure everyone files a consensual relationship agreement. She was opposed to it at first because she didn't want anyone to know. I didn't either, but I'm a total rule follower and I wasn't going to risk someone finding out inadvertently. Because it would be Gabrielle who got reprimanded, not me. I'm the star player. She understood when I put it that way and we've both managed to keep it silent. We also both agree it's casual and maybe that's why it's kind of flamed out in the last couple of months. And why she doesn't look annoyed or upset about the idea I might have a different bed buddy.

“No. That’s not about someone I’m involved with.” Just someone I’m married to , my brain chirps, and I almost laugh at the absurdity. "It's a long story but trust me, the person I'm talking about I've never seen naked and I never want to."

Gabrielle laughs. “Well that sounded serious, whatever it was, so I hope it works out.”

“Me too.” I rub the back of my neck. “I guess we should talk about the fact we haven’t really done anything lately.”

“Done anything?”

“Hung out.”

“Oh you mean we stopped fucking,” Gabrielle says bluntly, and I start rocking on my feet awkwardly.

"I mean, yeah. But we used to talk too," I fumble. Truth is we didn't do much talking. I don't know why I feel weird about that now. "Anyway, I've just been super busy, and I?—"

She lifts a hand to stop me, her expression amused. “Nash, I’m not some puck bunny with engagement rings in my eyes. We were having sex. Now we’re not. It was never going to be more than sex so at some point, it has to end, right? It’s okay.”

“I know. I just… I mean, I don’t think it has to be totally done, right? Can’t we just leave the door open to possibility?” The fact is, Gabby was great in bed and never expected anything more. It was a perfect arrangement for me. And her apparently.

She shrugs. “Sure. I’m dating but not looking for anything serious either so yeah. If the urge strikes again, call me.”

“I will,” I promise. “I just have some shit to fix first.”

Her eyebrows raise, intrigued. “The call?”

I nod.

“Okay well don’t forget to get that x-ray,” Gabrielle says as I walk toward the door. “And get rid of this other problem so you can focus on playoffs.”

I smile. “I intend to.”