Page 26

Dax wasn’t feeling well.

He felt…bad.

He simply didn’t have the energy to find words that were more precise for it than that.

In the last twenty years, he hadn’t missed a single practice. Shit, he’d even once been on the ice with a fever, until his dismayed coach had sent him home.

So the next day he just stayed home. He didn’t feel like seeing anyone, least of all Lucy, who would probably ignore him and make him feel like he was being stabbed in the chest with a hundred daggers. He knew Lucy wasn’t going to stay home; her job was too important to her. Her independent life was too important. More important than him.

That was such a shitty thought that Dax took his first drink of whiskey at one o’clock, right when Matt called for the tenth time and Coach Gray texted asking if he’d been in a bad car accident, because he wouldn’t accept any other excuse.

Dax ignored them all. He reached for his cell phone a thousand times to text Lucy but then changed his mind.

She needed space and time to think. He was almost certain of that. If he filled her voicemail, she would just spout some nonsense about not being dependent again!

He understood. She was afraid. He, too, was afraid. He had met her father, so he knew what she believed was going to happen. But damn, he had never felt the way he had in the last few weeks of his life. He’d felt free, like on the ice, only better! He knew that Lucy felt the same way. She had to let go of her fear, take a chance…and he would stomp anyone into the ground who said her job performance was not up to par simply because she was sleeping with a hockey player.

She was the best PR consultant they had ever had. Everyone knew that. Everyone liked her. Nobody would think badly of her. She wouldn’t hear it from him, though.

As the sun finished its circuit across the sky and the moon replaced it, he was still sitting on the couch, staring at the empty whiskey bottle, wondering what he could do to convince Lucy that they were amazing together. What could he do to prove to her that she wasn’t dependent on him? She had been crying. Surely she wasn’t fine, either, today…and shit! She wouldn’t tell anyone, would she? She would stay strong and keep working.

“Shit.” Cursing, he reached for the phone and texted Matt. Can you check on Lucy? I don’t think she’s okay. Or at least let her sister know .

He sent the message and Matt’s reply asking what the hell was going on came within minutes. But that was enough human contact for the day…and as if the door had heard his thoughts, there was a knock.

Dax was on his feet before he realized his muscles were even responding. Lucy. It had to be Lucy. Or Matt. Ah shit, he hoped it was Lucy.

He ripped open the door…and froze.

“Hey,” the man opposite him said gruffly.

It was Jack.

For a few seconds, Dax stared at his brother, perplexed. Then he choked out, “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged. “I thought I’d come over. I had the feeling that something happened with Lucy and you can’t tell many people about it, can you?”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “What?”

“Well, I’m not arrogant enough to think you missed practice today because of me. Lucy appears exhausted and…I put two and two together.” The next moment, he pulled out a bottle of whiskey. “Thought you could use this.”

Dax blocked the doorway, staring at his brother. He didn’t want to let him in, but he wanted the whiskey. He didn’t want to deal with the shit from last night, but he didn’t want to be alone anymore, now that he had the option. At some point, he would have to talk to Jack, anyway. Why not now, when everything was already fucked up?

“Fuck it—fine. Come in,” he said harshly and moved back to the living room. He set out a second glass and plopped down onto the couch.

Dax heard the door shut. Jack sat down beside him, poured them both a drink, and handed him a glass.

Then they sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity. Dax stared at the amber liquid. Jack swirled his around.

Finally, he asked, “So? Lucy?”

“Broke it off.”

“Why?” Jack sounded so aghast, Dax almost smiled.

“Ask her yourself. I’d say fear. Mostly.”

“Shit.”

“Yep.” He nodded.

“The meal yesterday…”

“Was everything I imagined my birthday would be, yes.”

Jack laughed hoarsely. “God. I wanted to pull myself together, you know? For Anna. For you. Tell you about it when we were alone, when I felt like we had…a chance to be a family again. But I was so angry, at the situation, myself, for not…doing it differently back then.”

Dax pressed his lips together, took a sip, and nodded. “If there’s one thing I understand, it’s anger,” he murmured.

Silence spread between them again. But it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, it was…mutual.

“Dax?” Jack said as he refilled their glasses. “I’m so damn sorry.”

Dax swallowed, and his grip on the glass tightened. “I know,” he said tightly. Because he did. He had finally understood yesterday that things hadn’t just been shitty for him and Anna, but for Jack, too.

And Jack had been alone. He had felt like his own mother didn’t love him and that he was doing something good for his siblings.

“You should have told me sooner,” he said, lowering his gaze. “Much sooner.”

Jack sighed. “I know. It’s just… We had so much taken from us growing up. We had so many opportunities stolen from us. I didn’t want to take away your good memories of Mom. I thought it would be better if you only hated me and not her, too.”

“Is that why you told the press you were an only child during your first interview as a professional athlete?” he asked harshly. “So we would hate you a little more?”

Jack swallowed audibly. “No. I wanted to protect you, Dax. You had enough shit on your plate. I didn’t want to saddle you with the media, too. It was the least I could do after I…” He took a deep breath and turned his head to Dax. “…after I let you down.”

“Apparently, not entirely of your own accord,” Dax muttered.

“Not entirely, no,” Jack replied tonelessly. “But…you know, the thing is, I’d like to say that I only left because Mom asked me to and I wanted to make the situation better for you. But that’s not true. I wanted to improve my situation, too. I thought if I didn’t get out of there, I’d be trapped forever. If I didn’t take the chance then, I’d end up stuck in the same cycle. So you have every right to be angry with me. I deserved the anger. I was a selfish prick who convinced himself that you were always the smarter one of us—except for Anna since her intellect runs circles around ours—and that you’d somehow manage.”

“Well, you were right. I managed somehow,” Dax replied calmly. “My anger with you fueled me.”

Jack laughed quietly. “I can imagine.”

“You know…I was jealous,” Dax whispered. “That you were allowed to go and I wasn’t. That I had to be the one to do the right thing. Jealous of your freedom.”

“I was jealous that you and Anna always had a special bond. That you were always a unit. And I wasn’t a part of that.”

“But you were part of our unit, Jack,” Dax said tensely. “Just because our father wasn’t your father… That didn’t make a difference.”

“Yeah, but if made a difference to me. I was an outsider, not part of you, but in your family. It sucked, okay? And your dad…”

“Temple Senior is such an ass,” Dax interrupted. “I haven’t spoken to him in years.”

Jack nodded. “I know.”

Dax inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. He needed to say what needed to be said, not because it was easy for him, but because he owed Jack the sentiment. “Mom still shouldn’t have sent you away,” he whispered. “She should have protected all of us. Not only me and Anna. Even if she didn’t do a particularly good job.”

“I think she did it to protect all of us,” Jack replied thoughtfully. “She was afraid Temple would attack me and that his anger would hurt you and Anna.”

“Yes,” Dax whispered, wiping a single tear from his cheek. “Maybe.”

“I’m sorry, Dax. I can only repeat it.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t mean to reveal it that way. I didn’t want Mom… I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea, and you…”

“…never asked,” Dax finished the sentence.

“No.”

“Fuck,” Dax whispered, burying his face in his hands. “They really screwed us all up, didn’t they? Our parents.”

“Oh, I don’t know. We still managed to make something of ourselves.”

“Yeah, we became stupid hockey players. Do you know what Anna said the other day?” He had to smile despite everything. “That she could imagine being the team doctor when she’s finished with her studies. Or at least an assistant doctor. Because she had so much fun patching us up back then.”

“Oh God, no,” Jack said, grimacing. “She’s too smart and fantastic for that.”

“I told her so,” he said, shrugging and sipping his whiskey. “Well, we’ll stop her when the time comes…right?” Jack raised an eyebrow at him—feeling like there was a silent request in his words.

We .

What a strange word. So small, yet so important.

“Yes,” he murmured. “We.”

Because he was tired of being angry at Jack. He had no energy left for his anger. He understood him better now…and didn’t know what he would have done in Jack’s place. Anna was right: It was enough. They should start over. It would take time for him to completely forgive Jack and for it to feel normal again, but he could at least try, right?

He heard Jack let out a sigh of relief and sink deeper into the cushions.

“Jack,” he said on impulse and pulled the red dice out of his sweatpants pocket. “Can you throw this away for me when you leave later?”

Frowning, his brother took it. “Shit. Where did you get this?”

“It was under your bed. Back then.”

He nodded slowly. “I remember. I stole it from your dad. It was his lucky charm. I didn’t think he deserved luck.”

The corners of Dax’s mouth twitched. “Well, it never did him any good, did it? I’ve carried it around ever since…but I don’t think I need it anymore. Got my own lucky charm now.”

Jack raised an eyebrow but seemed to know he wasn’t going to get an explanation and pocketed the die. “Sure, I’ll throw it away.”

“Good.” For some reason that made Dax feel better.

“So…Lucy,” Jack began again, “you love her?”

“Yep.”

“You want her back?”

“Yep.”

“How are you going to do that?”

“No idea. I guess I’ll wait.”

He hoped to God that she merely needed some time to see things more clearly.