Dear Roomie

by Kate Meader

  “Because I’m an asshole.”

  “No, you’re not.” Sports seemed to bring out certain personality traits, though. “These things happen.”

  “Yeah, they happen. Usually because one person makes them happen. We’re professional skaters, y’know. Most everything that happens on the ice is planned.”

  Grumpy, difficult Reid throwing up fences. She wasn’t falling for that. Of course he didn’t mean to hurt his brother—not like that—but the situation had blown up. She wanted to soothe him, do anything to help him through this.

  “Maybe you should talk to him. Tell him you didn’t mean to go so overboard.”

  “I’m the last person he wants to see. I just fucked up his Olympics, the rest of his season, his shot at another championship.” He stared at her. “And how do you know I didn’t mean it? You don’t know what’s in here.” He pointed at his head.

  Oh, but she did. She knew how years of brainwashing had held Reid captive to one man’s vision and how in the last few weeks he’d emerged from that dark place to become his own man.

  “Because I don’t believe you’d hurt anyone deliberately, even in the heat of battle. Especially your brother.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. I want a place on this team, and it looks like I was prepared to do anything to get it. Guess there’s more of the old man in me than we all thought.”

  “You’re not like him.”

  His eyes had turned dark, the blackness evicting all trace of blue. “I’m just like him. And I don’t need your hippie-yoga-let’s-all-get-along new age shit to tell me I’m not. I’m out there on the ice, kicking ass and taking names. I’m so on top of my game that I’m slamming my own brother into the boards and dealing out concussions and fractures like candy.”

  “Reid, I get that something happened tonight with your brother. Something that’s been a long time coming and is rooted in the toxic relationship with your father. All your life he’s manipulated you into thinking everything is transactional and that you can’t have a real friendship with your brother or even your teammates because they’re your competition for, well, everything. It doesn’t have to be that way. You could step back from that. Just say no more.”

  He shook his head. “Why? This is who I am. It’s who I’ve always been. You know Bast, my brother, nicest guy in the world? You know how I treated him growing up? I was an asshole to him. I pushed him around because I was jealous of his talent, his charm, how goddamn easy he had it. I wanted what he had with Henri. I wanted to be the favorite son. And tonight I made sure that I’ll be the only one playing for a while. By any means necessary.”

  His pain broke her heart. She had known the relationship between the brothers was complicated, but she had no idea of the extent. Reid still carried this guilt about how he had treated Bast all those years ago—but Bast had clearly forgiven him. She saw the love shining between them.

  “Bast loves you, Reid.” I love you.

  She would have said it but his self-loathing was on fire, eating up all the air between them. “Well, he shouldn’t! I just stole his spot on the Olympics team. Took something that rightfully belonged to him. My teammates think I’m a fuckup and the fans love to hate me and my brother has been knocked off Team Canada, but hey, I’m here. Reid Durand, the alternate, the NHL’s biggest asshole. Did you think I was going to become a different person because I got a dog?”

  He sounded so hurt, like the bargain he had made with the universe had turned around and punched him in the face. But she saw how far he had come and tonight’s events, though painful, were a temporary setback. A gentle creature like Bucky would only bond with someone who already had a heart as big as Reid’s.

  “Not because you got a dog. Because you are a good man who wants to be a better one. You’d rather buy into your father’s messed up worldview than accept you’ve made a ton of progress? You took a step back. It’s not the end of the world.”

  His expression reeked of disgust. She knew it was with himself, not her.

  At least that was her fervent hope.

  “Kennedy, you might have landed here like Mary Poppins, sprinkled some magic fairy dust, fixed a frightened dog, and made an asshole hockey player 5% less asshole. Good for you. In a couple of weeks you’ll be on a plane to somewhere warm and sunny and you won’t cast a backward glance to me or Bucky. Just off to the next assignment.”

  Wow with the dismissal. That stabbing pain in her chest couldn’t be good.

  This was why you shouldn’t get too close. She had thought this might work—she and Reid might work—but no. He was too entrenched in his jerk persona and maybe he was right about her: the soles of her shoes were nonstick.

  “That—that pretty much says it all.” She took a shallow, useless breath. “I’ll be packed and out of your hair by the morning.”

  “No, you won’t. Because you still work for me, remember? You’ll stay here and do the job I hired you for—looking after my dog. Then you can run back to Asia just like you planned.”

  Okay, then. The job. The plan. Back to basics, to where it all began.

  Maybe it was better that this was ending before it started.

  Which was funny because they were way past the point of starting. They were in the middle. The painful, messy, fucked-up-in-love middle. Or at least she was.

  Tell him. Tell him you love him. Even if it’s the last thing he wants to hear.

  She tried to find the words but they wouldn’t come, not when she knew he would only ball them up and throw them in the trash. He stared, burning those midnight-dark eyes into her until something clicked in him and he walked out of the lounge. She let him go because she wasn’t brave enough to put her fear aside and love all his many shades, the asshole and the hurting man.

  For all her claims to being a free spirit, Kennedy was nothing of the sort. She was caged. By memories. By fear. She might have fluttered outside it for a while but she could feel the whoosh of wind as the door slammed on those silly dreams.

  34

  Reid woke up with a weight on his chest. A pair of deep-set brown eyes above a stubby little snout met his sleepy gaze. Sleepy, because he’d managed about three hours of shut-eye.

  He picked the bundle of fur up and sat, his hands still embedded in the Pom’s warm body.

  He missed his dog.

  The door to Foreman’s guest room cracked open. “Reid?” Mia put her head in. “Gordie Howe, leave Reid alone! I’m sorry, we had the door to our room shut so he found you, the next best victim.”

  “It’s okay. I’m sorry for butting in. When I stopped by last night, I didn’t realize—”

  “That I practically live here now? It’s not a problem. Did you get any sleep?”

  “Enough,” he lied.

  She nodded. “I’m about to make coffee, so join us in the kitchen when you’re ready. Come on, Gordie Howe! Give Reid some peace.”

  The dog jumped off Reid and followed her out. Reid lay a forearm over his eyes and thought about the unthinkable.

  Kennedy would be leaving soon.

  She had that plane ticket and an assurance that he was an asshole. Last night he’d laid it all bare.

  Witness my envy and greed. Look at what a fuckup I am.

  Think you can pit your sun against my dark and win? Ha, nice try!

  Reid didn’t have it in him to make her happy so it was better to quit now before he fell too deep.

  Sure. Before.

  His chest hurt—and not because that damn dog had been camped on it for the better part of the morning.

  He picked up his phone from the nightstand. Several texts from Bast had come in during the night.

  Where r you?

  Need to tok.

  Talk.

  I’m texting with one fucking hand here.

  Where the fuck r u?

  Hmm. He didn’t sound as pissed as he should have, just Bast’s version of annoyed, like a baby wasp.

  He texted back, You OK?

  No respo
nse. Must be asleep. He checked the GPS tracker for Bucky and was relieved to see he was safe at home, though the tracker wasn’t sophisticated enough to be able to pinpoint the exact spot. Probably in Kennedy’s room.

  Five minutes later he appeared in the kitchen to find Foreman and Mia being vomit-inducing cute while they made breakfast. Their heads were close together and they were whisper-smiling something unintelligible.

  “Reid,” Mia said. “How do you take your coffee?”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Let her, Durand.” Foreman turned and folded his arms. “Checked in with your brother yet?”

  “He’s been texting, so still alive.” Last night, Foreman had given him the usual teammate spiel about shit happening and it would look better in the morning. Well, it was the a.m. and improvement was nowhere to be found.

  “What about Kennedy?” Mia asked, setting a cup of coffee down in front of him.

  “What about her? Have you talked to her?”

  Mia’s look Foreman’s way affirmed she had.

  Foreman snorted. “Maybe you should talk to her.”

  “I’m not her keeper. And she’s not mine.” At Foreman’s speaking look, he went on. “I’m giving her some space and it’s just easier if I’m not in the same apartment.”

  “Because you might have to deal with your problems in a productive manner?” Mia pushed creamer and sugar toward him. “Skim? That’s all we have.”

  “That’s fine. We’ve already discussed it. She thinks I’m a jerk, which is true, and I think she never planned to stick around, which is also true. We’re pretty much back to square one, so no harm, no foul.”

  He had always prided himself on his no BS truth-telling. Look at how easily those words flowed from his lying tongue now.

  “Can I interest you in some bacon and eggs?” Cal held up an egg in one hand and a bowl in the other. The bacon was already crisping and Reid was starving. Surely if his appetite was unaffected, he must be absolutely fine with this Kennedy business.

  “Let me guess, it comes with a side of folksy Masshole wisdom and straight-from-the-heart girl-power talk.”

  That snarky outburst yielded a condescending hand pat from Mia. “Now, you’re getting it. Foreman, crack those eggs.”

  An hour later, Reid stood outside his brother’s place, having first stopped at home, changed his clothes, and grabbed an overnight bag. Knowing Kennedy’s schedule almost as well as she knew his, he planned it around her being out of the apartment. Cowardly, to be sure, but neither did he want to make it awkward for her. That was her home until she had to leave the country.

  Leave the country. The words were cuts to his soul.

  This was the logical endpoint to what had happened here, yet he couldn’t quite believe it. Apparently, during these last few weeks he had bought into his own bullshit.

  I’ve fallen in love with a dog and a woman and it somehow makes me a better person.

  Had he really thought that was possible? Well, it clearly wasn’t. Deep down he was the same dick he had always been, only now he was so good at it he knocked the competition—his own brother, no less—out of the game. Achievement unlocked.

  Maybe he didn’t even deserve Bucky.

  Taking the self-pity a little too far, perhaps. He might be a miserable worm but there was no way he was giving up that dog.

  He had to find someone to care for the little guy, preferably someone who wouldn’t mind taking the puppy into their home. No more inviting anyone into his for a while.

  Despite the factory reset to Reid’s default programming, it had actually felt good to spend time with Mia and Foreman. Most likely they cared about Kennedy, and Reid was just a by-product of that concern, but nevertheless these people were doing a fine impression of feigning interest in his well-being.

  Did that mean he had to start caring about theirs? Friendships were all sorts of complicated.

  This much was true: he had no plans to go easier on Foreman in practice.

  He headed up to his brother’s place. If necessary he could whip out the spare key—which he never used behind Bast’s back unlike his brother’s crap. The door was ajar and a raised voice, unmistakable in tone and identity filtered through to the hallway.

  “I can’t believe you let him get the jump on you. You’re better than that.”

  “I didn’t. He’s been putting in the work—and it shows with my broken nose, fractured wrist, and the thumping pain in my head.”

  Reid winced. Even now, his brother was playing the peacekeeper. He pushed open the door.

  “How goes it, mon frere?”

  Bast was sitting on the sofa, his nose bruised and bandaged, his left wrist plastered and in a sling. His lips hooked up at the corners ever so slightly.

  “Connard.”

  That was fair. Reid was an asshole.

  “Don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone fall so quickly when checked,” Reid said, aiming for a lightness he did not feel. “Like a sack of potatoes.”

  “You are such a fucker. Why you want to go at me so hard?”

  Reid had no excuse for how he had played. He had gone into the game pissed about Kennedy and the fact she was leaving. But mostly about the fact he wasn’t brave enough to ask her to stay. Lay it all out there. Once on the ice the battle had taken on a life of its own, fueled by anger and desperation.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

  Bast shot a look at their father who, for once in his life, was keeping quiet. That look said what they both knew to be true: you became Henri. That’s what came over you.

  “It’s okay, Reid.”

  Henri exploded. “Are you kidding? You’re out for the rest of the season. No Olympics. No Cup. And if it doesn’t heal right, you can say goodbye to your career.”

  “Dad, it’s a full-contact sport and injuries will happen.” He turned to Reid. “Kennedy called to check on me. Said you guys had a fight.”

  “Been sniffing around, has she?” Henri sneered. “Probably trying to work out which one of you will have the longer career.”

  “Not now, old man,” Reid growled.

  Henri cocked his head. “Sounds like you’re pussy-whipped, son. Is that what has you coming after your brother on the ice? Some piece of ass?”

  The man didn’t see it coming—one second his lips were slanted in mockery, the next they were parted in fear. As strong as Henri was, he no longer possessed the resilience of youth. With Reid’s forearm crushing his windpipe, his eyes bulged and spittle flecked his lips.

  “What the f—?”

  “Don’t talk about Kennedy like that.”

  “Who the hell do—?”

  Reid pressed his forearm harder against Henri’s Adam’s apple. “If I hear you breathe another word about her again, I will snap your neck.”

  “Bro,” Bast called out lazily. “He doesn’t know any better.”

  “He does. Being a dick is always a choice.” If anyone knew that, it was Reid.

  He let go, mostly because the thought of any more violence made him ill. Henri rubbed his throat, something like admiration in his eyes. “You would have made a decent enforcer.”

  “I’m too good for that. Haven’t you heard? I’m front-line material now.” Though he wondered for how much longer.

  His father shot his cuffs. “You’ve got me to thank.”

  Reid looked him squarely in the eye. “I suppose I do. Don’t think I’m not grateful. You trained me, pushed me, made me as good as I am. But you also made me feel like shit. You pitted me against Bast so every interaction between us was tainted. There was no such thing as friendly competition between us. It was cut throat because that’s what you wanted. Guess what, Henri? I’m not dancing to your tune anymore. I’ll play my game the way that works for me and you can take it or leave it.”

  Henri scoffed. “Chiot ingrat. After all I’ve done for you, taking you in—”

  “Taking me in? You married my mother when I was two years
old and I fucking worshipped you because you were all I knew. The father I never had, the legend who saw something in me. But I’m not going to beg for scraps of affection anymore because even when you give it, it’s poison.”

  Reid faced Bast who was looking at him, wide-eyed, his color high. His brother had always hated being in the middle and Reid didn’t want to hurt him any more than he already had. “You and I need to talk. I’ll wait outside until you’re done here.”

  Bast shook his head, sending Reid’s heart into a hard plunge. He understood. It killed him not to have his brother on his side, but he understood.

  Except when Bast spoke, the words were unexpected. “You need to apologize to Reid, Dad.”

  “What?” Henri was aghast. “For what? Making a crack at his woman?”

  “For a start. Then you can say sorry for making him feel like shit and treating him like a second-class son and being a general all-around jerk.”

  “I—” Henri spluttered. “Anything I did was to toughen him up. Toughen you both up. It’s the reason you’re both so damn good!”

  Bast had never looked so stony. “We’re good because we work hard. Because we’re talented. And because we’re fucking Durands. Now say sorry or leave.” He pointed with his uninjured hand. “No, say sorry and then leave.”

  Reid opened his mouth to say this wasn’t necessary and got the Medusa treatment from Bast. Holy shit.

  Henri looked hurt, which pretty much confirmed where his priorities lay. “You—you’re serious?”

  “Yeah, I am. Reid and I need to talk. If you can’t figure out how to apologize then you need to think about that and how you want this family to heal because Reid’s right. It’s toxic.”

  Henri’s lower lip shook. “This is the thanks I get?”

  But Bast held his ground. When the door closed on Henri’s back, Reid let out a juddering breath.

  “You don’t have to fall out with him on my account.”

  “I should have done it a long time ago. As he was being an asshole to you he wasn’t being one to me, so I let it pass. I should have done more.”

  To hear his brother take on some of the blame lightened Reid’s heart a touch, but this wasn’t his fault. Reid was responsible for his own actions in that game. For long before that.