Page 7

SEVEN

LOGAN

“ E vander wants to see you before he leaves for school,” Mother says over the phone.

“I saw him last week.” I sigh, knowing putting up a front is futile, that I’ll end up home for dinner. I just really don’t want to go, not after watching her and my father’s “apology tour” all summer. He has been cos-playing the perfect husband for months, and frankly, it’s sickening. I feel bad for my mother, because she’s falling for it hook, line, and sinker. Maybe if this was the first time, it wouldn’t be so egregious, but this is just the first time he has been caught in years. I cannot imagine he has been faithful, not after doing a deep dive into internet gossip. I almost wish I could go back to a time before I read all the things I have about him online. Just hating him for being a prick about my hockey career was enough.

I also don’t want to hear anything more about how he feels about me playing for the Gods. I considered staying in NYC for a long time, but his sideline coaching and affairs were the final straws pushing me to avoid his alma mater.

“He doesn’t want to leave without saying goodbye…”

“I have the team lift, then videos, then practice.” It’s not like managing this is easy. “I don’t have time to get up there, especially with traffic. You know Midtown is a parking lot that time of day.”

“What time is it over?”

“Seven, seven-thirty.” I brace myself, trying to come up with an excuse not to haul my ass forty blocks after practice.

“Why don’t I bring Evander down for lunch? You can spare an hour, can’t you?”

I sigh, because if she’s offering to come to Midtown, she is serious. “Fine. But I only have an hour.” Maybe that will keep her at bay.

“An hour is perfect. You know how nervous Evander is about going back to boarding school. He really needs to see you.” She pauses. “I’ll have my assistant make a reservation and send you the details.”

An hour later, I walk up the block to the restaurant and spot them standing outside. My brother looks like he has been on a benzo binge, dark circles under his eyes, hollowed cheeks. I’ve only been gone a week, and he already looks like this?

My gaze moves to my parents. Dad’s whispering in her ear, and Mother’s giggling. My blood boils.

I hate this for her. I hate that he’s made her like this.

She might have been called a puck bunny her whole adult life after marrying my father, but she’s far from it. She grew up in hockey and passed the New York bar at twenty-three, years before most people even take it for the first time. She worked her way up in big law and became a partner before her firm took over the contract of Grandpa’s team. She has never needed or wanted my father’s fame.

She resisted hockey players for years before she met my father. I don’t know how he did what no one else could, but he won my mom over, and she has been smitten ever since.

He slips his hand under Mother’s coat, thumbs brushing her nipples as he cups her rib cage.

I clear my throat, holding up my hand to shield my eyes. “In front of the children?”

“You’re far from a child, Logan.” My father holds out his hand.

I take it, despite him having just felt up my mother, and shake, making a mental note to excuse myself to the bathroom to wash my fucking hands before we eat. “I’m talking about Evander. He’s sixteen.”

“I’m pretending I don’t exist. It’s fine,” Evander mutters under his breath so my parents don’t hear him as he gives me a hug. “I need to wash my hands. We’ll have them show us to the table when we finish.” Evander practically drags me to the bathroom.

I lift my brows when he closes and locks the bathroom door behind us. “You could have called.”

“Not with them up my ass. You’d think with them acting like that, they’d leave me alone for a second, but they haven’t.”

“Why won’t they leave you alone?”

“Because I told them I’d rather live with Grandfather and go to school in the city than go back to boarding school.”

“Why would that make them not leave you alone?” I ask, not following the dots.

“Because they think I’m going to, like, abscond and plead my case to Grandfather.”

“Have you tried?”

He mutters something, which means yes.

“Why are they so insistent on you returning?” Our family politics were odd at best. Dad never insisted I go to that school, even if it was considered the best for hockey, but with Evander, he did. Something about the best hockey training money can buy in Switzerland. Grandfather tried to argue I had a fine education here, but that only made Dad more adamant. “They might not believe you about last year, but surely, their training can’t be so much better. Can’t they see how you look?”

Evander spent a week in the hospital over the holiday break last year. The school claimed dehydration and hypothermia from too much outdoor cross training, but Evander’s story is much darker—not that my parents believed him. He has always been a bit of a hypochondriac and cried wolf one too many times.

But I believe him.

“I think they want me out of the city. Or, at least, Dad does.”

“Why would he care? Is this just to defy Grandfather at this point?” I can’t imagine they want to torture Evander. He’s Dad’s favorite.

He lifts his shoulders. “I don’t know, but he wants me out of the house.”

I can’t help but think it’s to create more time to cheat, but I have no evidence to back that up, so I don’t say it. “What can I do?”

“Be ready to bail me out of jail in another country.”

“Can’t you talk to Grandfather?”I ask.

“They won’t leave me alone with him, and any time I’ve tried to bring it up, they shut it down.”

“Can you email him?”

“No, they put all my devices on lockdown.” He shows me his phone, and it’s like a toddler lock screen. “Mother won’t even let me call you because she ‘doesn’t want me to bother you your first week at school’. So I’ve been isolated.” No wonder he insisted on lunch.

“I’ll call Grandfather. I’m sure he’ll be annoyed Dad is trying to keep you from him.” Since he is literally everyone ’ s favorite.

“Thank you. I knew you’d think of something.” He hugs me again.

Lunch is insufferable. Dad alternates between criticizing my choice in college, talking up Evander’s school, and practically dry humping our mother all between fans coming up to the table to speak to him.

I’m beat by the time I make it to the team lift. I barely get through my normal sets and only feel better when my skates hit the ice.

I always do, but it’s only a temporary fix, not a solution.

I put my head down and skate, running drills until Anthony plays coach and starts singling me out. I should be mad, but I’m amused. Why is he paying me so much special attention? He should know I’m going to give back whatever he gives, and I love a challenge.

“We are going to try out a few different variations of lines in a scrimmage, so I’ll be switching it up to try different things.” Anthony passes out colored bibs like we’re in youth hockey all over again. “When I’ve decided the permanent lines, you’ll have jerseys in your color, but for now, these will work. Don’t be surprised if it changes.” He tosses me a green one, noticeably not putting me on the first line.

But I’m not worried. I’ll prove myself, just like I have on every other team I’ve ever been on.

“To match my eyes, Coach? I’m so flattered you noticed.” I hold it to my chest like it’s a treasured thing.

A couple of the guys laugh.

Anthony shoots daggers with his eyes, which makes me a little hard behind my cup.

I want to keep pushing his buttons, but I know I’m risking my play time, so I’ll be quiet for now. But I want to fuck him again, and I’m going to find a way to make it happen.