Page 7

Archer

“C oach is a demon,” River groans at practice early the next morning, falling onto the bench beside me. He drags his helmet off, reaching for his water bottle. “Fucking hell. I’m exhausted.”

“Tapia!” Coach shouts at Diego as a puck whizzes by him, slamming into the back of the net. “Get your head out of your ass. Don’t piss me off, kid!”

“He isn’t a demon. He’s Satan.” Jordan mutters, collapsing beside him. “Jesus Christ. Who pissed him off this morning?”

“That’d be Logan,” Nash says, kicking a wayward puck toward him across the box. “He’s always pissing Lariat off.”

“Fuck all of you. It’s not my fault.”

For once, he’s right. I glance over at River to see him staring blankly at the ice, his expression grim. He knows he’s the reason Coach is pissed. He’s fucking our publicist, Alice.

Apparently, Coach caught them making out in her office this morning.

I did not want to be involved in that meeting when I got here. Matter of fact, I never want to be involved in meetings around here. It’s always some bullshit. And I’m always expected to step in and help handle it. Sometimes, being the captain sucks. Donkey balls.

River is an idiot who has made a career out of fucking everything that moves. This time feels different though. He’s falling for Alice. It was written all over his face in that meeting. And he doesn’t have a fucking clue what to do about it. I don’t think she does either.

Coach wants them to stay away from each other, and I get where he’s coming from. Really, I do. The last thing we need is for the world to find out that a member of the team—one constantly in the press for his shitty choices—is fucking our publicist. But I saw the storm brewing in River’s eyes as soon as Coach demanded it. He isn’t going to stay away from her. Because, out of everyone, she’s the one who matters.

“Shouldn’t you three be on the ice?” I ask Jordan, Nash, and Logan.

They bitch and grumble before hauling themselves over the boards onto the ice. River makes like he’s going to follow them.

“Hold back a minute,” I murmur.

“Fuck.” He settles back against the bench again, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Coach already jumped my shit, Graves. I don’t need to hear it from you too.”

“Good because that’s not what’s about to happen.”

He eyes me sideways, surprise written all over his face.

“You aren’t going to take his advice, are you?”

He doesn’t confirm or deny. He says nothing.

“That’s what I thought, which is why we’re having this conversation now. Alice isn’t another puck bunny.”

“I fucking know that,” he growls, scowling at me like he wants to hit me. “It’s not like that with us.”

At least he recognizes it.

“If you want to keep her, you need to get your shit together, man,” I murmur, not mincing words with him. River isn’t the kind of guy who listens to subtle. He needs a hammer blow to get through his hard ass head. “You’ve spent the last five years of your career turning yourself into an asshole that I’m guessing not even you actually like. You fuck around and drink and pretend nothing matters because it’s easier than dealing with your trauma. But she let you in anyway. She gave you a chance you don’t particularly deserve. If she matters to you, deal with your shit, River. It’s the only way this ends the way you want it to end because she’s not a puck bunny. She won’t settle for bullshit.”

He grits his teeth, glaring straight ahead.

“Are you fucking other women?”

“Fuck no. I haven’t touched another woman in months,” he growls. “Not since…well, that doesn’t matter.”

“It’ll matter to her.”

“Yeah.” He jerks his chin in a nod and then sighs heavily, bouncing his head against the glass behind him. “She thinks we’re just having fun. Like that’s all I’m capable of being. Someone to waste time with.”

“Prove her wrong.”

River is complicated. His history is complicated and nine kinds of tragic. His whole goddamn life is a fucking mess. He acts like an asshole and does all the wrong things to keep people at a distance. He thinks he never has to deal with his trauma and his bullshit if he buries it in booze and girls and hockey and never discusses it. But we can’t shape life like sculptors at a wheel. It doesn’t work that way.

I’m guessing he’s getting slapped in the face with that lesson right now. There’s no need for me to rub it in and make sure he learns it. That’s Coach’s job. Mine is to make sure he has his head on straight and he’s doing what he needs to do, not just for the team but for himself. Because he can’t focus on the game and scoring goals if he’s all fucked up in the head over Alice.

And, despite the way he acts, he’s not a complete dick. He needs people in his corner. Even when he irritates the fuck out of me and I disagree with damn near every facet of his life, I’m in his corner.

“If anyone can do it, you can,” I murmur. “It’ll be the hardest fucking thing you’ve ever done, but I know you, man. You never quit. You don’t know how to admit defeat. If anyone else had gone through the shit you had, they wouldn’t be here today. You are. If you want a future with her, you’ll find a way to prove that you’re worth it.”

He nods again, cutting his eyes at me. “You knew about us already, didn’t you?”

I smirk, tapping his skate with mine. “I know everything that happens around here.”

It’s not like these guys are hard to figure out if you pay attention. I pay attention. I also pay Ron in security to tell me the juicy shit that happens around here so I don’t get hit with any surprises. It helps me put out fires before they turn into raging goddamn infernos.

River shakes his head, hauling himself to his feet. “One of these days, I’ll be in your skates, Graves.”

“Keep dreaming, St. James.” If he ever gets his shit together, he may very well be in my position one day. I’ve got a few good years left. He’s damn near a decade younger than I am. He’s got at least fifteen in him. He’s in line for the captain spot once I retire. He just needs to grow the fuck up first and realize that he’s his own worst enemy.

He hops over the boards, discreetly flipping me the bird before he skates off.

I pull my phone out of my bag, grinning when I see a text from Wren. She sent it less than five minutes ago.

Wren: I bet your morning is going better than mine.

Me: Wanna bet? You aren’t here, little bird. Mine is automatically worse than yours.

Wren: Did you get pooped on? Because I got pooped on, Archer.

A surprised bark of laughter erupts from my lips.

Me: WTF? Who shit on you?

Wren: Gross. Don’t call it that. It makes it sound worse.

Me: … Poop and shit are literally the same thing. How does “I got shit on” sound worse than “I got pooped on”?

Wren: It just does.

I smile despite myself. She’s irrational and cute as hell anyway.

Wren: Happy wife, happy life, Archer. That means you have to agree with me.

Me: Oh. That’s what that means, huh?

Wren: Obviously.

Me: Yes, ma’am.

I chuckle again. Fuck, I love how goddamn playful she is. She gives me nine kinds of hell, and I eat it up because I can’t get enough of her.

“Who are you texting?” Micah asks, hopping over the board. “You’re smiling. It’s fucking weird.”

Shit. I power off the screen before he can see it. And then I hesitate. This is the part where I’m supposed to lie to him. I’m supposed to tell him it’s no one important or it’s nothing. But…I fucking can’t.

Not after what Wren told me about her almost dying when she was a kid. I understand him a whole lot better now. I get why he’s so fucking overprotective. He almost lost her, and he still blames himself. Hiding our relationship from him isn’t the way to solve the problem. I respect them both too fucking much to sneak around behind his back and cause more damage.

“Your sister,” I say, trying to keep my voice as casual as possible, fully aware that either he or she may kill me for this. But it has to be done. I’m not okay hiding her, and deep down, I know she isn’t okay with it either. Micah’s opinion matters to her, perhaps more than anyone else’s in the world.

“What the fuck?” He scowls at me, his expression dark. “You better be joking, you prick.”

“She texted to say she got pooped on at work.”

He stares at me for a long moment, the silence between us tense, broken only by the sound of sticks slamming against pucks on the ice. “What the fuck is going on between you and my sister?” he finally asks, his voice a soft growl. He’s pissed. Suspicious.

I married her while she was drunk in Vegas, and I don’t fucking regret it. I’m in love with her.

For a second, I think about telling him the whole truth, just spitting it out and letting the chips fall where they may. But…I can’t do that, either. Wren would never forgive me. Until she’s all in, ready to face him together, I can’t force it. If I try, I’m only going to force myself right out of her life. I can’t take that risk. I need time to convince her that telling him we got married is the right move.

But that doesn’t mean we have to hide us , either.

There’s a happy medium here, a fine line that may just be the only goddamn way forward for us. Or it may blow up in my face. I don’t know, but I won’t lie to him.

“I’m crazy about her,” I say quietly. It’s the understatement of all understatements. I fucking breathe for her. But he isn’t ready to hear that. One step at a time.

“Keep your goddamn hands off my sister, Archer. I’m not fucking around.”

“I get that you want to protect her, man. She deserves that. But she’s grown, Micah. She gets to decide for herself who she does or doesn’t want to be with.”

“Jesus Christ. You two are seeing each other?” He narrows his eyes on me. “Is that why you offered to take her gambling in Vegas? So you could sneak around behind my back?”

“No,” I say, choosing my words carefully…walking that thin line that keeps me on the side of truth without revealing too much. “I didn’t even know she was going to be there. And if you weren’t an overprotective asshole, she’d be a whole helluva lot more willing to tell you that she wants the same thing I do. She’s scared of upsetting you, man.”

“So it’s my fault you two are sneaking around?” he growls.

“We aren’t sneaking around!” I snap. “I’m telling you plainly that your sister is mine. And I’m hoping you won’t be a dick and make her feel guilty about it because your opinion still matters to her just as much as it did when she was laying in the hospital bed when she was ten.”

“I don’t want you anywhere near her.”

I grit my teeth, trying not to lose my patience with him. “Respectfully, it’s not your choice. It’s hers. I’ll be letting her make it, not you.”

He mutters a curse, snatching his water bottle from the bench to take a big drink. His eyes linger on me, full of anger. But there’s something else there too. Hesitation. “She told you about her accident?”

I jerk my chin in a nod.

“Did she tell you how it happened?”

“Yeah. She told me.”

“Motherfucker.” He tosses the bottle, looking like he wants to hit something. But I don’t think he’s pissed at me right now. He’s pissed at the past and the memory of almost losing his baby sister. He’s mad as hell that he wasn’t there to protect her…and he’s fucking worried that this will end the same way, with her hurt and him feeling helpless. But he should know me better than that by now. I’m not like River. I never have been. And in my whole goddamn life, I’ve never felt this way about anyone.

“She’s safe with me, man.”

He grunts wordlessly.

“You know she is.”

“Fine. Whatever. Do whatever the fuck you want, Archer.” He throws his hands up, staring at me like he wants to hit me. “She’s smart enough to tell your stupid ass no without me helping her along.”

“She isn’t going to say no.”

“We’ll see.”

“Guess we will,” I sigh as he leaps over the board, storming across the ice like he’d rather be anywhere but standing here talking to me about Wren.

Fucking hell. He’s stubborn. I can’t even be mad at him about it though. She’s his sister, and he’s already almost lost her once. If I were in his shoes? Well, not a single fucking member of this team would get close to her.

“Graves!” Coach shouts. “You going to hold court on the damn bench all morning, or are you going to get out here and act like you have a game to win?”

I haul myself from the bench with a sigh. I’d rather be back in bed with my wife right now.