“At least put on a shirt!” she hissed, balling up the white tee she’d all but ripped off his body earlier and throwing it at him. It hit him in the shoulder, but he made no move to catch it, letting it drop harmlessly to the hardwood floor.
Lainey scowled at him as she pulled the giant T-shirt he’d loaned her back down her thighs. Cooper looked supremely unconcerned as he made his way to the door and pulled it open. “What?”
“Hey, man.” Lainey heard Brett’s shoes squeak against the tiles in the foyer as he stepped inside. “I’m starving. I thought we could watch some game tape and maybe talk about defensive strategy.”
“Listen, Brett, now’s not really the best time...”
“Fine, I’ll pay for breakfast, dude. But only if you’re willing to help me out.” Brett barged in, too focused on hockey to pick up on all the blatant cues that screamed Cooper was entertaining. “Now that we’re playing San Jose, I’m worried about getting matched against Gauthier. He’s so fast. And it helped, that stuff you said when Cubs kept blowing by me in practice and you told me to support the team and stuff, so I thought... Lainey?”
Damn. This was not how this was supposed to go. Lainey got to her feet, but her words deserted her.
“It’s not what you...we never meant to—just let me explain...shit.”
Brett’s expression went from slack-jawed confusion to deep hurt as he stared at her, then back at Cooper, taking in their respective states of undress, the T-shirt on the floor.
When his gaze cut back to hers, the hurt had given way to anger. Brett’s chest was heaving with pent-up rage—he was practically vibrating with it—and Lainey didn’t like the way it made her own chest hurt. He turned back to Cooper and his voice cracked with emotion.
“You son of a bitch! First you take my spot on the team, and now you’re sneaking around with my sister?” He shoved Cooper hard, but his smaller stature barely had an impact on his muscled opponent.
Cooper’s voice was low. Icy. “Sillinger, don’t touch me again if you know what’s good for you.”
Brett’s lip trembled, and he looked very young and vulnerable in that moment.
“Brett.” Lainey reached out and set a tentative hand on his shoulder. He whirled around with such speed that she stepped back with surprise.
“What?” The volume of his voice made her wince. “What now? Brett, don’t be stupid? Brett, stop bothering us? And to think I thought...” He trailed off with a bitter laugh. “I guess I thought things were different with us now.”
“They are different!”
“Whatever, Lainey. Nothing’s different. Nothing will ever be different.”
He shot a glare at Cooper as he stormed out. “I thought we were friends, man.” The slam of the door punctuated Brett’s departure.
“We have to go after him!”
Lainey made a move for the door, but Cooper’s hand on her shoulder stayed her. “He needs to cool down first. I’ll talk to him this afternoon at practice.”
“But I—”
“But nothing. He’s upset, and he needs to deal with that before he’ll be ready to talk. Don’t you ever need a little time to process?”
Lainey glanced at the closed door, as if she could see her brother through it somehow. “I guess so.”
“I know so. Let’s have some food, let the situation decompress.”
“I’m not hungry anymore.” Guilt had a way of stealing her appetite.
“Then screw the strawberry jam.” Cooper slung her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry with such ease that it startled a laugh from her, despite her mood. “Straight to the shower it is.”
13
THE PARKING LOT at The Drunken Sportsman was empty when Lainey pulled up in her beat-up Taurus the next morning. Exactly as she’d hoped. It was why she’d come at 9:00 a.m., long before any of the staff were due to arrive. Well, that and she hadn’t slept well.
Brett wasn’t answering any of her phone calls or texts. She considered trying him again, a last-ditch effort, but he’d be heading to the rink for the morning skate soon, like Cooper had. The Storm started the second round of the playoffs tonight. She’d try him again in the afternoon.
With a sigh, Lainey got out of her car. Her family was once again in shambles, but at least the bar sale was imminent. She was going to read though the contract one more time before Jeannie and the man on the other end of this latest “too good to be true” offer, a Mr. Allan Bashir, arrived at ten for a showing. With any luck, this deal would go through.
Male voices a few feet away pulled her out of her thoughts. There were three guys passing in front of the bar, probably midtwenties, talking loudly and smoking as they headed north on the sidewalk. Lainey kept her head down as she reached back into her car to grab her purse and the contract.
“Is that her?”
“Dude, I totally think that’s her. That’s the girl on the news.”
Lainey took a deep breath, told herself not to overreact. She’d been heckled before. The street wasn’t deserted. They wouldn’t hurt her when the chance of being caught was so great. She’d let them fob their insults and be on their way.
Slowly, she straightened up with her things and shut the car door.
“It’s her. It’s gotta be.”
They changed direction, started walking toward her. Lainey flipped through her keys, trying to find the one for the Sportsman’s front door. If she could get inside and lock it behind her, she’d be okay.
“Hey! You’re her, aren’t you? Hey! We’re talking to you! Least you can do is be polite enough to answer.”
Behind her, there was the sound of a car engine, a screech of brakes, and the slamming of a door, but Lainey was too busy trying to get into the bar to pay it much mind. Her hecklers were coming closer, and Lainey couldn’t stop her hands from shaking. The key ring slipped from her numb fingers and crashed to the pavement.
“You’re the one who scored on your own net and lost us a gold medal!”
“Hey, back off and leave my sister alone!”
Distracted, the leader, a tubby guy in a plaid flannel shirt, adjusted his course to face her rescuer.
A shaky breath escaped her. Brett. Relief left her feeling woozy, and Lainey leaned back against the glass door. She was okay. She and Brett could handle this. Together. The thought gave her strength, and she pulled her phone from her purse as she bent down to grab her keys as Brett approached.
“This national disgrace is your sister?”
“Dude. That’s Brett Sillinger. He plays for the Storm.” The warning came from the tall skinny henchman.
“I don’t care who he is. What I care about is that this bitch cost us a medal.”
“Oh, she cost you a medal, did she?”
“Brett, forget it.” Lainey put a hand on his arm. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s go inside.”
“No way. It does matter.” Brett pulled away from her, puffing up his chest as he stepped toward the heckler. It was an odd moment to notice that Brett wasn’t a kid anymore. When he’d faced off against Cooper the day before, he’d seemed small to her, but now she could see him as he was. As a man. He’d gotten tall. His chest and shoulders had filled out. Even his playoff beard seemed intimidating rather than scraggly in this moment. There was a reason the guy with the beer paunch took a step back.
“I want to hear all about this douchebag’s athletic experience. About what he’s so good at that he can represent this country on an international level.”
The tubby one didn’t back down. “For all the good it did us.”
“You’re just jealous because even her failures are good enough to be televised. Yours are confined to your mother’s basement.”
“You punk-ass loser, I—”
“I’m a loser? You’re walking around wit
h your buddies yelling insults at women in parking lots!”
“C’mon, Lenny. Let’s get out of here, okay?” The third guy, the quiet one with the ponytail, reached out tugged on his friend’s plaid sleeve.
“I hope you choke in the finals,” Lenny taunted.
Brett didn’t back down. “If I do, I’ll still have accomplished more than you ever will.”
Without warning, the mouthy one took a swing, clocking Brett in the face before turning and running like a coward. “Let’s go!”
The three of them took off down the street, and Lainey placed a hand on Brett’s shoulder.
“Oh, my God, Brett. Are you okay?”
He spat some bloody saliva onto the pavement before he straightened up. “I’ll live.”
“Your lip’s a mess.” Lainey pulled open the door she’d unlocked earlier. “Come on. Let’s get you patched up.”
“I thought I wasn’t allowed in your bar.”
“We’re closed. And I don’t want your lip to swell up, so we’re making an exception.”
Lainey made a point of locking the door behind them before she walked Brett over to the bar and pulled out a stool. “Sit. I’ll get you some ice.”
She dumped her purse and papers on the counter and handed him some paper towel. “Here. Don’t bleed on my floor,” she warned, before rummaging around for a bag she could fill with ice. Lainey wrapped the makeshift icepack in a towel and turned back to her patient to find Brett dabbing gingerly at his lip.
“Did you know I’ve never been in a fight before? Not even on the ice. And now I’ve been in two, and they’ve both been because of you. At least Coop didn’t punch me in the face,” he mumbled, wincing as she pressed the bag of ice to his face.
Lainey pulled out the stool beside him and sat down. “Don’t you guys start your series against San Jose tonight? You should be at the arena. What are you doing here?”
“Yeah. I was heading to the rink for the morning skate, but I thought I’d swing by and see if you were here. I wanted to talk to you about yesterday.”
“I’m glad you did,” she confessed. Now that the adrenaline was dissipating, Lainey realized how differently the situation could have gone. “And I appreciate you standing up for me. A lot of people wouldn’t have. You didn’t have to.”
“Yes, I did! I owe you.”
Lainey shook her head. “You don’t owe me anything.”
“Sure I do. You remember that summer you stayed with us?”
Of course she did. It was the summer her mother had died. The worst summer of her life. And she’d been stuck living with her dad and his new family.
“And I was begging you to come play street hockey with me, but you wouldn’t.”
A twinge of guilt tightened her chest. She’d been a bitch that summer, and Brett had been nothing more to her than her dad’s devil spawn, the nuisance she couldn’t shake.
“So I was out hitting the ball against the garage door, and the Peroni boys from a few doors down had a game going with some of the neighborhood kids, but they’d never let me play because I was too young. And they started heckling me, calling me a baby and saying I shot like a girl.”
The memory flirted at the edge of her brain, becoming clearer with every detail Brett added. She’d blocked most of that summer from her mind, remembering it only as a long, dark tunnel she’d had to endure without her mother, the only person who’d loved her. But she could see it now, a street full of twelve-and thirteen-year-old boys.
“You grabbed my stick, marched out to the middle of the road and drilled a shot past Jian, who was the best goaltender in the neighborhood, and then you said—”
“‘How’s that for shooting like a girl?’” Lainey smiled as she and Brett said the words together.
“And you followed it up by telling them if they ever hoped to touch a girl’s boobs, they’d better stop acting like misogynistic assholes.”
Lainey did not remember that part. “I said that?”
“Yeah. After you walked away, the game broke up so they could all run home and look up what misogynistic meant.” Brett flinched when he smiled, pressing the bag against his split lip. “But they let me play after that.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I mean, your talk of touching girls’ boobs jump-started puberty in the neighborhood, so I had to steal them one of your bras first, but they let me play.”
“You perv!” Lainey shoved Brett, but her laughter gave her away. “I wondered where that purple bra went!”
Brett’s chuckle dissolved in a wince. “Ow. Don’t make me laugh.” He readjusted the ice pack.
They sat in silence for a long moment.
“I think that trying to keep up with those guys is what made me a better hockey player. So that’s kind of because of you. And you were doing so great, with your hockey scholarship and stuff. I wanted to be just like you. That was kind of my last good summer.”
Lainey frowned at the sentiment. “What?”
Brett sighed. “I was excited that you were there. My mom would tell me to leave you alone, because of what happened with your mom and all. She said you were sad, and you needed space. I wanted to hang out with you. I wanted to be good at hockey like you were. And I didn’t want to be an only child. But you left for college at the end of the summer.
“It was all downhill after that. Mom and Dad got divorced that winter. I dunno. It was probably good. It’s the reason that I tried so hard. I guess I wanted to impress you. I know you picked number 42 because Dad wore it, but I picked it because of you.”
The quiet confession detonated like a bomb, and Lainey couldn’t find words through the emotional shrapnel.
“I thought for sure you’d call when I made the league.”
“I should have. But truthfully? I was jealous.”
“You were?”
Lainey nodded. “I thought you had everything. You had Dad. Your mom was still alive. You were a hockey superstar and my career was in tatters. I resented you. You were this annoying little kid with everything I ever wanted in life. I was petty, and I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, well. You didn’t miss much. Dad was always either sleeping off a hangover or here.” Brett looked around the dingy bar. “And Mom, well, she’s been husband hunting ever since they split up. In fact, I called her to let her know we made the playoffs, but she’s in Cabo right now, about to hook husband number four, so she can’t get away this month.”
Brett shook his head, and it was the first time Lainey had ever seen him look jaded. “Sorry you wasted all that jealousy, because the grass was the exact same shade of brown on my side of the fence.”
Lainey was ashamed she hadn’t realized it before. “It wasn’t all wasted. You really are a good hockey player, Brett. But it’s not because of me. You did that on your own. And I’m impressed.”
“I wish the guys were impressed. But they think of me as a kid. It’s my second year in the league and they still call me rookie. No one ever wants to hang out. And then Cooper started helping me with my game. And I thought maybe, if we hung out a bit... I dunno. It was stupid.”
Brett shrugged, dropped his gaze. “He said things were fine between us at practice yesterday, but I think he was just being nice because you and I are related. And now you guys are...uh, you know. And I mean, what happens if you break up? Coop already doesn’t like me that much... It’s gonna be worse if I’m his ex’s brother. And what about you? You’re never gonna come watch me play because he’ll be there.”
Every word Brett spoke stung like a dart in Lainey’s chest. “I’m going to give you some unsolicited advice right now. Stop trying so hard.”
“What?” He lowered the bag and frowned at her.
“Brett, just be you. You’re actually kind of a cool guy when you’re not trying to make people
like you.”
The stunned expression on his face was priceless. “You think I’m cool?”
She laughed. “I do, actually. Especially after today. Thank you for sticking up for me.”
His look was matter-of-fact. “You’re my sister.”
For the first time, those words made her feel warm, like maybe the only reason she’d spent so long feeling as if she didn’t belong anywhere was because she was too scared to let herself.
“Yeah.” Lainey slugged Brett in the shoulder. “Yeah, I am.”
They sat for a moment, letting that sink in.
“You know, a normal sister would have gone for a hug just then.”
“Let’s not push it.”
14
“THIS IS HOLLY EVANS, reporting live from the Storm’s locker room in the Portland Dome, and with me is defenseman Cooper Mead. Cooper, your team has had a dominant performance so far in the playoffs, having already swept the Wyoming Stallions. With tonight’s shut-out win, you’ve put San Jose on notice. How does it feel to know that your team is coming together at the right time?”
Cooper wiped the sweat from his face with the Women’s Sport Network towel Holly had slung over his shoulder before the camera started rolling. “It feels great. We’re definitely ready. We played hard tonight, and we got results. I’m especially proud of how the younger guys are stepping up. We all have something to prove this year, and it’s been great to see that drive translating into dominant performances on the ice.”
“So you think you guys have a shot at going all the way?”
“Definitely. Like you said, we’ve really gelled over the last month and a half. Our defense, in particular, has been working hard to support Mack. He put on a hell of show between the pipes during our first series, but you’re not going to win a championship if your goaltender has to do all the work.”
“Last question before I let you go, the thing that’s on everyone’s mind...”
Playing Dirty Page 14