Rebound (Seattle Steelheads #1)(3)

“What’s wrong?” Laura asked.

“I, um…” I glanced at them again, then looked at her. “I think we should wait for backup.”

She cocked her head. “I don’t know. They’re pretty subdued right now.”

“For the moment, yeah. But you saw them when we showed up. And there’s…” I nodded toward the car.

She grimaced, but shrugged. “Eh. We’ll be all right as long as our backup is here by the time we make any arrests.”

“Yeah, because if we end up needing to arrest both of them, I’d just as soon not put them in the back of the same cruiser.”

“Of course not. Okay, so get a status on our backup.” She gestured at the hothead. “I still think we’re safe to talk to these two. Just make sure they keep their backs to each other.”

I nodded. I radioed to check on our backup, which was apparently still slogging through traffic since this wasn’t a lights-and-sirens emergency. While we waited for the additional patrols to arrive, Laura and I went to our respective parties.

Once mine was standing with his back to the other, and I could see Laura in case anything went south, I pulled out my pen and pad. I scrutinized his posture and appearance. It didn’t seem like the altercation had gotten physical, and he didn’t appear to be injured. Nervous, yes—he shifted his weight and kept his gaze down, and a few times I thought he was on the verge of throwing up.

There really was something familiar about him, too. About his reddish-brown hair and the freckles sprinkled across a nose that had obviously been broken at least once or twice in the past. I was sure I’d seen those crystal blue eyes before. Maybe he was a repeat offender, but I had the distinct feeling of looking at someone I’d ogled in the past, and that wasn’t something I was prone to doing on the job. Maybe we went to the same gym. Well, whatever. That wasn’t what I was here for.

I cleared my throat. “I’m Officer Logan. I just need to get a statement from you, so let’s start with your name.”

He folded his tattooed arms loosely across his broad chest and didn’t look at me. “Asher Crowe.”

“Asher—” I blinked.

He scowled, still avoiding my gaze. “Yeah. That Asher Crowe.”

Uh-huh. That Asher Crowe. The up-and-coming hockey star everyone said would be the next Gretzky or Crosby. No wonder he’d looked familiar. Holy shit. Yeah, this was definitely someone I’d ogled in the past despite him being half my age and miles out of my league. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to ogle him now because this was so not the time or place.

I wrote down his name as if I would forget. Shame my kids weren’t talking to me—they’d lose their minds if they knew I’d met one of the greatest active hockey players in the country. Circumstances notwithstanding. “Can you tell me what happened tonight?”

Asher tightened his arms. “I, um…” He swallowed hard. Then he took a deep breath, unfolded his arms, and slid his hands into his pockets. “Nathan…” He motioned over his shoulder at the other man. “He’s my boyfriend.”

“Is? Or was?”

He pursed his lips, but didn’t answer.

“What happened?” I asked.

He shifted, tension rolling off him in waves. “Everyone said the best way to break up with someone was in public. So they wouldn’t make a scene.” Laughing bitterly, he cut his eyes toward the restaurant doorway. “I should have known he’d make one anyway.” His voice shook a little, and there was a faint glimmer of tears in his blue eyes. “I tried to let him down easy. Not make it a big thing, you know? But he just… He lost his shit. And he…” Asher straightened, looking around with alarm in his expression. “Oh God, I need to talk to the manager. Nathan broke a bunch of stuff, and—”

“One thing at a time.” I kept my tone as smooth and gentle as I could. “Let me get your statement, and I can help you sort out logistics with the manager.”

Asher blew out a breath. “I just feel so bad. We probably ruined everyone else’s dinner, and I…” He turned to me. “Is the manager going to press charges? I’ll pay for everything. And extra if I need to. Just…”

“Hey. Take it easy.” I made a calm down gesture. “No charges are getting pressed until my partner and I have talked to everyone and have the whole story.” I glanced at the damaged car. Pointing at it with my pen, I said, “You want to tell me what happened here?”

Asher looked over his shoulder, and he cringed. “Fuck. Just what I need.”

“What happened to the car?” I prodded.

He faced me again. “Nathan lost his temper. Enough said.” The mix of hurt and bitterness in his shaky voice told more of the story than even he probably realized, and my heart sank. How bad were things between them? And how long had this been going on?

I schooled my expression. “So he’s volatile when he’s angry?”

“Volatile?” Asher laughed humorlessly. He folded his arms again and started pacing in front of the restaurant’s door. “A drunk hockey player who just lost in the Cup finals is volatile. Him?” He jerked his head toward his hopefully ex-boyfriend. “I… Hell, I don’t even know what word you’d use. Like I said, there’s a reason I did this out in public. And I probably would have even if I’d known he’d do all of this.”