Destiny on Ice (Boys of Winter #1)(61)

“No, no it’s not.” Nolan is using his soothing sensei voice. I must look like a real wreck. “But how much longer do you have to wait? Only a couple more weeks, eh?”

“Yeah,” I grumble. “Though it feels like forever at this point.”

He stands and raps me on the back. “Quit thinking about it so much, Oliver. Focus on playing hockey. The time will go fast.”

This is one time the great sensei better be f*cking right.





Secrets and Lies





I sense trouble is in the air. Even from up in the stands, where I’m seated next to an unusually quiet Benny, I can tell Brent’s off his game. Passing the puck directly to an opponent is something he just doesn’t do.

But that’s not the part that worries me. It’s his reaction. Slamming his stick on the ice isn’t too bad, but sending it sailing across the rink?

That’s not Brent at all.

“My man is f*cked up,” Benny says, sending an accusatory glance my way.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I question.

He shrugs as he focuses back on the ice, where Brent is skates dejectedly to the penalty box. “You need to life coach the shit out of him if you expect him to make it to December without having a meltdown.”

“He’s hanging in there,” I say, with no conviction whatsoever.

Benny laughs. “Hanging in there, eh? I heard he was out drinking the other night. Word is he got pretty f*cked up.”

“He did,” I admit with a sigh. “But I’m sure that was a one-time thing.”

“Sure, Aubrey, whatever you say.”

Benny looks guilty as hell, and I sense he knows something and is holding back. I swear these guys gossip worse than little old ladies. If something more happened with Brent, he would know it.

“Am I missing something here, Benny? Did something else happen that night?”

“I wasn’t there” is his evasive answer.

I know then that I’ll get nothing more from him. Damn bro code. It’s a code of silence I have no chance of breaking. I’ll have to get to the bottom of this on my own.

The next day, I try.

It’s Thanksgiving and the team is holding a big dinner down in the hotel ballroom. Brent stops by my room to pick me up so I can go down with him.

“I hate this f*cking shit,” he tells me when I come out in the hall and close the door behind me. “I can’t even come in your room.”

“We could go back in and pretend we’re having a meeting,” I suggest with a wicked grin.

Brent doesn’t take the bait. He’s clearly in a mood. Sighing, he says, “No one would buy that.”

“Oh, I think they would. After that little tantrum you had on the ice last night, they probably expect me to meet with you.”

He pins me with a look of disdain. “Aubrey, don’t f*cking life coach me right now.”

His cranky mood can’t bring me down. “Ooh, someone sure is feeling surly,” I tease.

We start toward the elevator, and thankfully no one is around, especially when Brent leans in close and growls, “You bet your ass I’m feeling surly. What I’d like to do is take you back to your room and f*ck you so hard you wouldn’t be able to walk for days.”

“Damn,” I mutter, liking surly Brent more and more.

I’m up for heading back to my room, but just as I’m about to say as much damn Nolan comes around the corner.

“Oh, hey,” he mutters, looking rather subdued. “Mind if I head down to the meal with you?”

Brent replies, “No, not at all. The more the merrier.”

These two seem weird, like they’re hiding something.

Frustrated that I’m being kept out of the loop—because that can’t be good—I feel compelled to bait Nolan.

“What?” I say. “No smartass commentary today?”

“Nope,” he replies.

Brent and Nolan share a look, so I outright ask, “What’s going on?”

I receive no answer since the elevator dings at that exact second and the door opens.

Brent, placing his hand on the small of my back, says, “Come on. Let’s just get this stupid dinner over with.”

In the ballroom, I sit between him and Benny. Nolan and the goaltender, Breeze, are seated across from us. There’s a lot of good-natured small talk, but something is off down here too. I sense everyone knows something that I don’t. It has to be something related to the night Brent went out drinking.

Where’d they really go?

What’d they really do?

Do I even want to know?





My Genius Plan





Two more losses, and then we’re back in Vegas. There, the losing streak continues. Management is pissed, and Dolby calls to bitch me out.

Then it’s Jock’s turn.

“Did you get hit in the head with a puck or something?” he asks.

“No. Why?”

I hear him slamming things around on his desk. “Because your behavior on the ice lately has been unacceptable, Brent. Two brand new endorsement deals I was working on just went south. One bowed out after that stick-throwing incident in Toronto, and the other won’t return my calls. Not after that fight last night.”