Page 25 of Playoff (Toronto Blaze #4)

Something you didn’t do

Jess

I should have said no. I had no good reason to go riding in a car with Alek Denbrowski.

There was Justin, who would never understand.

My parents, and how they’d respond if they ever found out.

I had things to do. But it had been a depressing day and I didn’t want to spend the evening by myself in the condo.

I could have called the PAC women, but after five years of living with Justin, I knew how rarely the guys were home during the season for evenings that didn’t involve a game or some kind of team event.

None of my friends had been dating for very long, and they could use the time with their guys.

Especially when I was going to be a poor companion.

Den— No, Alek was probably going to regret asking me. I didn’t know why he’d made the suggestion. Maybe it was just that he was new to the city and didn’t want to hit up another bar and find a hookup.

I flinched as the brush in my hand jerked hard against a knot in my hair.

I checked the time and tossed the brush on the bathroom counter.

I’d changed into jeans and a cashmere sweater that wasn’t too heavy for riding in a car but was also warm if we got out at some point.

A jacket and gloves and my boots and I was ready to leave.

I had to wait for the elevator to get to my floor, and when it took too long, I stabbed the down button again.

And a couple more times. If Justin got done early and was on the elevator, he’d want to know where I was going, and what could I tell him?

I’d have to lie to him, and I wasn’t a good liar. I didn’t want to lie to my twin.

The other option, of canceling? No. Not tonight.

Fortunately, when the doors opened it was a car going down, not one coming up. There was an older couple holding hands who smiled a greeting at me. The couple got out on the lobby floor while I continued down to the parking levels.

We’d driven with Fitch since he’d moved to the building, so I knew where his parking slots were.

Sure enough, Alek was standing by a brand new…

I checked—Mercedes. G-Wagon. Justin had been considering one of those but settled for an environmentally friendly Ioniq.

I didn’t check out the car for long, instead examining the man beside it.

He wore a black winter jacket over jeans.

On his head was a black toque. Sensible—I’d noticed that his hair was growing back but it was still short and this was Canada in February.

He was rubbing his stubbled jaw. He didn’t seem to be growing the beard back.

He looked delicious. I pinched my thigh to remind my libido to behave.

“So this is the new vehicle?” Fitch’s Volvo was parked beside it.

He nodded. “There was no point in bringing my car up from California. It would be destroyed in these conditions, and I have no idea how long I’m in Toronto.”

I pushed aside the thought of his leaving and asked about his car. “What do you drive in LA?”

He met my gaze. “A Lamborghini. That what you expected?”

Like this was a test. “Yeah. I mean, you play a sport, you make money—most of the guys on the team have a sports car of some kind.”

He chirped the G-Wagon open. “What about your brother?”

I opened the passenger door and climbed in, inhaling the new-car scent. Alek got in the driver’s seat and started the vehicle.

“He’s got a Hyundai Ioniq, electric. You may have noticed there are charging stations in the parking levels.”

Alek shrugged and put the car in reverse. “That tracks. Now, since you’ve lived here more recently than me, where should we go? Someplace I can see what the car can do. Maybe we could pick up food where no one is going to recognize us.”

The subterfuge was lifting my mood, and that wasn’t good.

This was just a one-off, a treat after a difficult day.

I pulled out my phone and checked the map while he made his way through the parking levels toward the street.

“We could go west—maybe as far as Hamilton? They’ve got some good food, and the Inferno are playing at home tonight so the hockey fans there should be at the game. ”

“That’s the farm team, right?”

“Yep. And the Bonfire are playing at home too.” That was the women’s professional hockey team, all three teams sharing the same management and ownership. “Lots of option to keep fans busy elsewhere.”

Alek turned south, heading to the Gardiner Expressway without any assistance from me or the GPS in the vehicle.

“You’re learning your way around?”

“I grew up here.”

Right. I’d forgotten. “Did you come back much, after…” How did one tactfully say after your parents fled the country with other people’s investments ?

“I’d been drafted by Florida, so I was down there when everything went to hell.

I had no desire to come back to Canada with all the attention my parents were getting.

While that was going on, I was traded to Dallas, then other teams in the southwest. The only times I came north were when we were playing a Canadian team on their home ice. ”

Did he not have any ties in Canada to bring him back? Apparently none strong enough to overcome the notoriety of his parents’ crime.

“Where do you call home now?”

“Maybe LA? Though now it’s just the place where my stuff is.”

Toronto was home for me because of Justin, and even though he could end up moving, there was always Grandma in BC to give us roots.

“Would you ever want to join your parents? After hockey?” Realizing how that could be interpreted, I rushed on.

“I’m not asking where they are or how you keep in touch. Maybe just forget I said anything.”

What a stupid question to ask. From one of their victims.

His frown deepened and his knuckles showed white on the wheel. “I have no idea where my family is. I haven’t had any communication with them since two days before they skipped out.”

I didn’t speak, sure that I must have heard him wrong.

He shot a glance my way. “Surprised?”

“Well, yeah. They’re your family.”

“Family is a social construct that means fuck all.”

Something slivered down my spine. How horrible was that?

Our parents were far from perfect. Far from.

They had huge flaws. But they had never abandoned us, and we’d always had our grandparents to fill in the gaps our parents left.

To have your parents take off, without warning you and never getting in touch again?

I couldn’t imagine. “How could they do that?”

He pulled into the left lane to pass a slow-moving van. “Apparently pretty easily. And the kicker? They took my money with them.”

My jaw dropped and I must have looked like an idiot, but seriously? How could someone do that to their own kid?

He continued. “In a way, they did me a favor. I got a lot of attention from the various law enforcement agencies in Canada. Being a victim myself helped a few of them believe I didn’t know what was going on.

Some thought instead it was a double fake, so every time I come to play in Canada, I get a visit asking whether I’ve heard from them. ”

“Still? Ten years later?”

He pulled back into the middle lane as we headed west on the QEW. “Probably just a formality now. I’m sure they’ve been tracking my calls and my bank activity.”

I must have picked up on my parents’ attitudes, because I’d assumed Alek had come out of this debacle unscathed. That he wasn’t a victim. My whole image of him was shifting in my head. “I had no idea.”

“Why would you?”

I shrugged. “My parents have hired PIs and lawyers to follow any clue they could get about your family, so I thought we knew everything about you.”

“No one’s interested in something you didn’t do.” One shoulder shrugged, as if it didn’t really matter. But it did. Of course it did.

There was silence for a moment, then his words hit my memory banks. “Are you quoting a Tragically Hip song?”

“Proving my Canadian cred.” The Tragically Hip might be the single most unifying element of Canadian culture. Other than a gold medal Olympic hockey game.

“I’m sure you don’t want to discuss this anymore, and I respect that. I just want to say that I’m sorry, all that really sucks.”

“I appreciate the sentiment. So, any suggestions about food?”

I pulled out my phone again. I checked the signs slipping past us. “We’re almost at Hamilton, right? I’ve heard there are some good places here.”

“Find one that looks appealing to you. I’m not picky.”

It wasn’t hard to find a best restaurant list for Hamilton.

The top place looked expensive and hard to get into, but a couple slots down was a place with “tavern” in the name, and the menu looked like it could accommodate the diet a hockey player would follow.

A little pricey, but I didn’t think we were looking for a chain restaurant.

Not for the guy who drove Lamborghinis and Mercedes.

Alek was fine with my suggestion, so I set it up on the GPS in his vehicle. We were soon off the highway and driving into the city. When we pulled up in front of the restaurant, he expressed his approval. “Looks good. Why don’t you get us a table and I’ll park?”

Fortunately, it was a quiet weeknight for the restaurant, so there was something available. I was led to a table near the fireplace, which was great on a cold night. I’d just unzipped my coat and pulled off my gloves when Alek joined me.

“If the food matches the setting, you’ve scored.”

I smiled, the praise warming me. I did try to please people, and being acknowledged felt nice. But being acknowledged by him felt even better, and that was dangerous.