Page 11

Dax was wrong.

It was not going to be okay. Not at all.

From the moment he stepped onto the ice at the Edmonton Whales’ Arena, he knew today wasn’t his day.

The swish of blades on the ice was usually music to his ears and the cool wind that crept under his visor and set all his receptors on edge was the freedom he sought. Today, however, the steel of blades on the rink screamed deafeningly and the wind howled relentlessly to accompany them. He couldn’t concentrate. His hands didn’t work the way they should. And today the puck was his enemy, not friend. The Whales weren’t even the strongest opponent on the ice. No. He felt like he was playing against his past—which he had never defeated.

It felt like he barely saw the puck, but instead received one penalty after another.

“Are you fucking serious, Temple?” Gray snapped as he was sent off by the referee for the third time in twenty minutes to serve a two-minute penalty—allowing the Whales to score, because the Hawks had to continue playing while outnumbered. “What are you doing?”

By God, he didn’t fucking know. So he remained silent and looked into the stands across the way instead, where the few Hawks fans who had traveled here were booing to express their displeasure.

The noise of the arena rang in his ears, punctuated by heavy bodies crashing into the boards and the scrape of hockey sticks across the ice. Gray’s voice was louder than all of it, but he didn’t care. All he could think about was Lucy sitting somewhere in the stands, watching this tragedy. He had to think about how she would explain to the press why he had played like his skates were on backwards.

He closed his eyes, sucked in the cold air, and tried to clear his mind. But it was hopeless.

The ice was his refuge. Always had been. Jack had given it to him. How ironic that now he was the one taking it away. Whenever he saw Jack’s face, he was reminded of how lost he had felt when the bastard had just disappeared in the middle of the night, how hard it had been to suddenly be responsible for Anna alone, because he couldn’t rely on their parents. How stressful the years had been when he had lived at home just to protect her—when he could have lived on campus and started his career sooner.

And all the while, Jack had been doing just that.

Without him. Without Anna. Without looking back.

He wanted to shake off the thought, wanted to concentrate on the ice, wanted to do his best…but his best on the ice was no longer just his, it now belonged to Jack, too, because he was part of the team.

And shit, he just didn’t want Jack to succeed.

Dax lived for oblivion. For the freedom that the game brought. Jack lived to win. And if Jack wouldn’t let Dax forget and be free…then Dax wouldn’t let Jack win.

It wasn’t a conscious decision, but it was still the end result. He made one mistake after another. His passes were sloppy, every scoring opportunity he had was wasted, and his teammates were merely blurred outlines on the ice.

He played like that until he no longer knew whether it was a mistake or intentional. It was no longer clear to him whether he was failing because he had an underlying desire to fail or failing because his mind was filled with distracting crap.

He had told Lucy the truth.

He didn’t play—not with other people’s happiness. Only with his own. The notion that his subconscious was breaking its one rule pissed him off. And when the final whistle finally sounded after sixty minutes of play, which had stretched into more than ninety minutes thanks to the ridiculous number of penalties, he wasn’t the only one who was pissed.

“Dude, Dax,” Matt snapped, punching him in the arm so hard he almost slammed into the boards on the way to the exit.

“I know,” he said roughly.

“Man, Dax, what the hell was wrong with you?” Fox chimed in, his face red with anger. “Because of you, we all had to sit on the bench at least once!”

“I know!” he replied sharply.

“Like a donkey on blades,” Leon remarked angrily.

Dax pressed his lips together and met Jack’s gaze as he reached the exit ahead of him.

Jack kept his mouth shut, just stared at him and shook his head almost imperceptibly. Dax didn’t know whether to be grateful or angry about it.

Ten minutes later, when Gray stormed into the locker room and announced that there would be no press conference today, Dax was relieved beyond belief. He couldn’t have answered their questions honestly. And it meant he didn’t have to see Lucy, who usually oversaw the interviews.

“You behaved like a bunch of baboons out there!” he snapped.

“If Temple plays like a bunch of baboons are after him, it’s no wonder!” Leon snapped, glaring at him.

“Temple isn’t the only one who played like shit, Alvarez. You started two unnecessary fistfights.”

“Yes, because I was angry with Temple and couldn’t attack him personally!” he snapped.

“That’s enough, Leon,” Fox replied sharply, and Dax wished the captain wouldn’t. He had no right to be defended today.

“We’ll talk about it in detail tomorrow,” Gray announced darkly. “God. I’d like to send you all to bed without dinner. Instead, I’ll just tell you how terribly disappointed I am in you. That always works better with my children than punishing them.”

He suddenly turned his back on them, but before he left the locker room, he stopped at Dax again.

“Any more bullshit like that, Temple, and I’ll bench you for the entire next game,” he said flatly, his voice so quiet that none of the others could hear him. “You are not alone on the ice out there. So stop being a selfish motherfucker and get your shit sorted out with West. Someone worse than me would assume that you lost on purpose. And if that’s the case, we’re going to have a big problem.”

The door slammed loudly behind Gray and what was left was the oppressive, niggling silence that only a terrible and unnecessary defeat could bring about.

Dax collapsed onto the bench and let his head fall back against the cold tiled wall.

Shit. He needed a drink.

However, since he didn’t drink during the season, he needed the next best thing: sex.

It was a good thing he knew the best bars in pretty much every city for achieving his goal.

Edmonton is the capital of the Canadian province of Alberta and it’s about 350 miles north of the US border—damn cold in October, compared to California.

Dax didn’t mind the cold—he was an ice hockey player after all—but when it was forty degrees outside, you didn’t bother seeking out the best bar miles from the hotel. Instead, you went into the first one you came across—no matter how many moose statues stood in front of it, no matter how bright the neon lights screaming out some hokey name, “Snow Hut” or something . As long as it wasn’t a sports bar where someone would immediately recognize him and threaten to beat him up because he was the opponent, the declared enemy, he was fine. Even though tonight, technically, he’d played like more of a friend to the Edmonton Whales than a foe.

Shit, the thought was depressing and needed to be fucked out of his brain! He approached the door of the bar, reached for the handle…and his cell phone rang.

He paused in disbelief. How the hell did she know? Was she a damn psychic or what?

Annoyed, he pulled the phone out of his pocket fully expecting it to be Lucy demanding to know where he was and why he was doing what he was doing. However, before he could dismiss the call, he realized he was wrong. Anna blinked across the screen. And he always answered when his sister called, on principle. No matter how bad he felt in the moment. That was how it had been ten years ago and it hadn’t changed since then.

“Hey, what’s up?” he asked.

“What’s up?” Anna replied hostilely. “I just had a strange woman call me who thought she dialed your number. Because it was the one you gave her.”

He frowned. Oh yeah. He did that sometimes; gave out Anna’s number instead of his. But, if he was honest, he didn’t feel like having another discussion about why he was an asshole, so he said, “Can we talk about it another time?”

“No.”

He groaned and stepped back from the bar door to let a mustachioed Canadian through. “Please, not now, Anna. I’m not in the mood.”

“Why?” she asked. “Because you played like you couldn’t tell the puck from your head? Or because you were booed because of it?”

He gritted his teeth. “You saw the game, didn’t you?”

“I wasn’t going to miss the first game that finally united my beloved brothers after twelve years,” she replied sarcastically. “But now I almost wish I had.”

“You always know how to lighten the mood,” he replied dryly.

“I’m not calling to cheer you up. I’m calling to complain!” she clarified. “Are you aware that, in three months, I have my second board exam? I have better things to do than console your one-night stands. And believe me, it’ll be to your advantage to have a fully trained doctor in the family. Someone who can resuscitate you if one of the many people angry with you finally tries to kill you.”

He snorted. “Now that’s a bit over the top.”

“Oh, you should have heard the woman on the phone just now. If you had, I’m sure you wouldn’t have said that,” she stated unwaveringly. “And while we’re on the subject. Why are you giving my cell phone number to strangers?”

“Well, the idea is that you pick up and they are put off by another woman answering my phone,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “It makes it a lot easier on me.”

“But it’s not your phone, it’s mine!” she cried in disbelief. “And if you’re going to sleep with so many women, you should at least have the decency to tell them you don’t want to get serious.”

He grimaced. He would happily have this conversation with anyone other than his sister. “I do, Anna,” he assured her. “It’s about the first thing I tell them. Can I help it if no one listens to me?”

His sister snorted loudly. “Well, stop giving out my number! It’s an invasion of my privacy.”

Shit, she was absolutely right. Next time, he would give out Lucy’s number. That was a lot more responsible.

“Okay, okay,” he reassured her. “It will never happen again. How are you?”

“Are you only asking me so I won’t go on about your performance this evening?”

Yep, exactly that. “No, I just want to make sure you’re getting enough sleep and food and not spending all your time at the hospital or with your nose in a textbook,” he said innocently.

Anna seemed to think about his words for a while and then said, “Oh, I’ve been sleeping a few hours a night. But I’ll be ecstatic when this whole thing is finally over.”

Yes, so would he. He thought it was great that her lifelong dream of studying medicine was coming true. But it was sometimes hard to watch his sister run herself ragged. “You didn’t say anything about eating enough, Anna,” he reminded her.

She laughed. “You’re not my father, Dax. You should stop worrying.”

Yes, but even her father hadn’t really been her father. Someone had to fill the gap. “That tells me your fridge is empty and you are living on pasta with pesto,” he replied tersely.

“Pasta and pesto are filled with valuable vitamins, healthy fiber, and salts.”

“And you’re full of shit,” he remarked. “I have another game on Friday, but I’ll come over and cook something on Saturday, okay?”

“Fine, fine,” she replied grumpily as if it were unnecessary. But he knew she was grateful to be fed every now and then. It forced her to take a break. Besides, it was his fault that she had never learned to cook. He had taken on the task for the first twenty years of her life.

Anna was the type who burned water, but Jack had been much worse. He had scorched through one or two pop-up toasters trying to heat up leftovers. Dax’s mouth twitched at the thought, and he couldn’t help but wonder if Jack was still a disaster in the kitchen, or if he’d learned to cook in the last decade.

“Since I have your attention, Dax, I want to discuss something with you briefly. Your birthday is in a few weeks…”

“No,” he interrupted her. “No and no.”

“Oh, come on, Dax,” she complained immediately. “You’re turning twenty-eight. I want to throw you a party.”

“No,” he repeated. He hated his birthdays and Anna knew it.

As if she had read his mind, she sighed heavily. “Okay, no party. But then at least stop by for dinner. I’ll cook… No, I’ll order something. That’ll give you more incentive to come.”

Groaning, he tilted his head back. Every year, she tried. And every year, he gave her the same answer. “Being born is not an achievement that should be celebrated.”

“Just like tonight’s game, you mean?” she replied, annoyed.

Ouch. Now she was being mean. “I won’t be celebrating,” he insisted.

“Dax, I know you’re in an even worse mood than you were already in because Jack joined your team,” she said with a sigh. “But couldn’t we use this year to make everything…better? Reconcile with Jack?” Her voice had grown softer and gentler, like every Christmas when they were kids and she’d tried to talk him out of his chocolate Santa Claus. Jack, the idiot, had fallen for it three years in a row until Dax had explained to him that most of Anna’s tears weren’t real.

“I don’t intend to make anything better,” he explained impatiently. “My life is rather great. I am incredibly happy with it.”

“Liar,” she whispered. “Dax…it’s time to start anew.”

No, she was wrong. So wrong. “See you, Anna.”

An audible sigh was his answer. “God, I was truly hoping you’d be a little more reasonable. That would’ve made my next words a lot easier.”

He frowned suspiciously. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, I’ve decided not to give you a choice this year,” she said firmly. “You will come over, eat cake, and smile. And, oh yeah.” The next words came out hastily, tumbling out one after the other. “I’ve invited Jack over for your birthday, too. He’ll bring the appetizer. You will sit at the table together, be civil and nice to each other. Like the family we are. End of discussion.”

“Excuse me?” he said, crushing the phone between his fingers.

“You heard me.” There was a clear warning in her voice. “I’ve had it. You’re both my brothers. See you then.”

Before he could open his mouth again, she had hung up.

He pressed his lips together and slowly lowered the phone. Silent anger and frustration slid through his veins, making him suddenly incredibly hot, despite the clouds of condensation forming before his mouth.

He angrily silenced the phone and stuffed it into his pocket. Was everyone suddenly convinced that they knew what was best for him?

God, he was tired of it—following rules that others imposed on him. He had spent his entire youth following the hair-raising rules his mother had imposed on them so that she would feel like she was contributing at least something to their upbringing. As if sending her kids to bed at ten would make any difference, when Dax had to get up three hours later and accompany her to the casino next door because she wasn’t strong enough to pull his drunken father away from the craps tables alone. As if it made sense to forbid sweets when his old man had already offered him his first beer when he was thirteen.

No. He had always done whatever he wanted outside the house. And it had given him this life, hadn’t it?

He had more money than he could ever spend, had a job he loved. He had dozens of friends he worked with every day. And he had Anna. So why would he change anything if he was happy?

Liar, she’d whispered.

Anna’s voice echoed in his head, but he ignored it. Instead, he pushed the door to the bar open with his fist. She had no idea what she was talking about.