Delayed Penalty: A Pilots Hockey Novel

by Sophia Henry

  “Rock star. Ha!” I laughed. The rest made me sound pretty damn awesome. And it was all true.

  “Landon is impressed with the program. He and a few guys on the team go every week.” He put his hand on the door. “If you start one here, let me know. I’d love to help.”

  “Cool.” I nodded. A program was already in the works for Bridgeland; I was waiting on approvals from my academic advisor and grant money I needed to rent a space.

  I lifted my hand in an awkward semi-wave before Jason disappeared. My brother. The queasy feeling building in my stomach for the last ten minutes was threatening its way to my throat. I grabbed the Cola on the table and took a gulp, before catching myself and slamming the glass back onto the table. Brown liquid and bubbles sloshed out the sides. I didn’t know anything about this guy, he could have herpes or something.

  What was I really worried about? Catching the honesty bug?

  “Hot date tonight?” Johnny asked, whisking dirty plates off a table.

  Gross.

  I followed her to the kitchen carrying my coffee mug and Jason’s glass. “That was my brother.”

  “Your brother? That boy’s been eating here for a month, and you never told me he was your brother.”

  I set the dishes onto the back counter for the dishwasher. “I didn’t know.”

  Chapter 20

  Ever made a snap decision that sounded great at the time, but once you acted on it, you realized you’d gone about it the wrong way?

  Yeah. Story of my life.

  When I burst in the door of my grandparents’ house, they were both watching television in the living room. I’d jumped in my car and driven for two hours, straight home from Johnny’s parking lot. Never in my entire college career had I ever skipped multiple classes in one day, but confronting my grandparents about having a brother seemed like a good reason for it.

  “Auden!” Grandma exclaimed when I barged through the door. “What are you doing here?”

  “Some guy just told me he was my brother,” I said. I’d run through the conversation a hundred times in my head on the drive over, yet standing in front of my grandparents had me shackled with apprehension.

  Technically, I didn’t know if Jason had been telling the truth or not. But I did know that it wouldn’t be the first time my grandparents didn’t tell me something. I wasn’t even sure if omission of the truth counted as lying, but all my pent-up frustration of never knowing anything was coming out right here, right now. Everything I thought I knew was unraveling around me.

  “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.” Grandma clamped both hands together as if in prayer, holding them in front of her nose and mouth. Jason’s account must have been true, if Gram was calling on all three.

  “Where were you?” Grandpa asked, snapping his recliner down and leaning forward, his usually calm face creased with angry lines.

  “I was at work and the cop who always eats at the diner told me he was my brother.” No turning back now. “Is it true?”

  Grandpa shot a glance at Grandma, whose shoulders shook while tears trickled down her cheeks. He took a deep breath, rubbing the back of his neck with the palm of his hand. I stayed silent for as long as I could. It might have been seconds, might have been hours.

  “Just tell me the truth!” Instead of avoiding the subject, I wanted to add.

  “Don’t you dare raise your voice to us,” Grandpa snapped. “Why do you hate us so much, Auden? All we’ve ever done is try to give you the best life we could. Why are you so angry?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Here we go again, the famous guilt trip. It’s always my fault. My attitude, my temper, my mood swings. You blame me for things I don’t have control over. What did I do wrong? I just asked a question.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about. The past is the past. It is none of your business and there is no reason to bring it up again!” he shouted.

  “There is a reason to bring it up when some guy says he’s my brother because my mom gave him up for adoption!” I screamed.

  I felt the sting on my cheek before I even saw Grandpa’s hand. It was sudden and unexpected. I’ve been yelled at, spanked across the thighs (which hurts more than the padded rear end)—hell, I’d even been chased with a yard stick—but never slapped across the face.

  I stared at him, breath heavy, shoulders heaving, my lips curling into a furious scowl, before spinning around and slamming my palms against the storm door. The wind caught the door, stretching it all the way back on its hinges. I didn’t look back to see if I’d broken it, just loaded back into my car and backed out of the driveway.

  After a two-hour drive to figure out my approach, I thought I would’ve handled the situation better. But no. I didn’t know how to handle anything.

  Despite another two-hour drive back to school, I still hadn’t calmed down. I burst through the door to my apartment and rushed to my bedroom, without checking to see if either Kristen or Lacy was home. I threw myself facedown on my bed, shaking with convulsions. Catching my breath was impossible with my face smothered by my pillow, so I turned my head to the side. All I could do was choke up air in small gasps.

  And analyze. In twenty years, I’d analyzed my life to death. And now I had a reason to do it all again.

  Why was Grandpa angry with me for what Jason had told me? How was the situation my fault?

  It was always the same, always my fault somehow. No matter what the incident, no matter how ridiculous. I got the blame.

  Could I believe anything my grandparents had ever told me? Why would they keep so many parts of my mom’s life secret? They’d never been open to talking about her, but if they knew I had a brother for all these years, why hadn’t they told me?

  I racked my brain trying to figure out why our family had to repress everything. If we didn’t mention unpleasant things, did they go away? At what point did sheltering someone “for their own good” inflict more harm than good? I was old enough for the truth.

  I would drive myself crazy trying to figure out my family, so I called Aleksandr instead. My call went straight to his voice mail, where I left a shaky, rambling, possibly incoherent message and hung up.

  Then I flipped on the practically antique, thirteen-inch black-and-white TV on my dresser, hoping to find something mundane to take my mind off of it.

  I settled on Grease, which I’d probably seen fifty times. It wasn’t one of my favorites, but it was like a car accident, you don’t want to stop and look, but you do. Musicals always cracked me up. I couldn’t remember ever breaking out into a song and perfectly choreographed dance. Unless you count the time at a high school athletics banquet when my teammates and I all busted out into the chorus to Biz Markie’s “Just a Friend.” The performance included swaying and clapping to the beat, but not a full-on dance routine.

  Eventually, my mind hit its capacity for stimulation and I drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter 21

  “Hang around. We’ll be back in twenty minutes,” I shouted to the audience. Then I spun around, holding one fist out, which Aaron bumped. “This is so freaking cool!”

  Despite my anger with my grandparents, or maybe fueled by it, tonight had been my best performance as Strange Attraction’s singer. There had been only two others before this one, but I was improving and meshing well with the guys. We sounded amazing, and we’d drawn a large crowd who seemed to like what they’d heard based on the number of jumping and swaying bodies who’d littered the dance floor during our performance.

  The makeshift DJ, who was known by the regular patrons of Wreckage as the head bouncer, pushed past me to get to the sound system, located to the left of Josh’s drums. He pushed some buttons and Wreckage’s signature dance mix blasted through the speakers. According to the bouncers, a blend of old nineties hip-hop was the best way to keep people on the floor while bands took their breaks.

  I bounced as I followed the guys to the bar. It was as if Wreckage’s floor had been replaced with one of those huge inflatable th
ings that little kids loved to bounce in.

  The guys drank during our set, but I hadn’t for fear I might forget words or—god forbid—stage presence. I allowed myself one drink before our final set, though. Maybe it would help calm my nervous excitement.

  Wreckage was a tiny, dingy bar whose claim to fame in its fifteen-year existence was that it was the only place in Bridgeland where you could hear live music every night of the week. Unlike the wannabe club-type bars in town, a typical Friday night at Wreckage usually drew a casual crowd. There seemed to be more miniskirts and fuck-me boots than I’d ever seen before, which meant it was becoming the new “it” hangout for students. Bridgeland was small, so bars went through a popularity rotation. Anything new became the place to be, until it peaked with crowds and the newness fizzled, and then people went back to the old favorites.

  As I slid onto an empty bar stool next to Greg, I smoothed down my blue-and-green mini-kilt. My black tank top and boots completed the outfit. And I thought I’d been trendy when I’d picked my clothes. “Singer” was my newest role to play, as “Soccer Girl” had been before this. The small stage at Wreckage replaced the field, and sexy clothes became my new uniform.

  “You know what I’m saying, Aud?” Aaron asked. “You went to Catholic school, right?”

  “I did,” I affirmed, though I had no clue what he’d said before that. I hadn’t been listening, busy contemplating my fashion status and all. I shifted toward him, giving him my full attention.

  “It’s all bullshit, right? I mean, look at you. You’re a straight-up product of that shit, and you’re all about fucking and coveting stuff,” he said.

  “What am I coveting?” I asked. Let them think I lived the rock and roll vixen lifestyle, because admitting I was a virgin wasn’t an option.

  I nodded my thanks to the bartender as he set my trusty vodka club in front of me and a beer for Greg.

  “I bet you covet that dude standing over there staring at you.” Aaron nodded toward the door.

  I rolled my eyes but glanced over my shoulder toward the door, half disbelieving, half curious. No one was there, just as I’d suspected. “You’re completely mental. And for the record, I don’t think you’re using covet the right way.”

  “All the bullshit is fucking up my head.” Aaron tapped his temple. “That’s what happens, man.”

  “I’d put my money on the drinks you just downed,” I said, nodding to the empty shot and pint glasses in front of him.

  “Or the special brownies,” Josh chimed in, curling his fingers into air quotes as he said it. Greg snorted. Aaron’s alcohol- and pot-influenced rants were famous, even to a newcomer like me. I especially loved it when he made up words.

  “Air quotes? Been watching I Love the Fucking Nineties on VH1 again, Joshua? Oh, shit!” Aaron jumped up, and his bar stool knocked against my knee. “Be right back.”

  “Ow.” I rubbed my knee, then turned my attention to my drink, violently assaulting the three lime wedges with my straw. Lime pulp swirled around the fizzy whirlpool, making it as thick and murky as my thoughts.

  I missed Aleksandr.

  I hadn’t seen him since he’d been called up to Charlotte two months ago. I tried to tell myself the phone calls and Skype chats would be enough, but they weren’t. Sometimes I just needed to be wrapped in his arms, inhaling his sweet yet masculine scent. Even the pack of clove cigarettes I’d bought to sniff when I missed him just didn’t cut it.

  I sighed and twirled my hair between my fingers.

  “Nervous?” Greg asked, nodding to my twirling. I glanced at my fingers and let my hair slide through them.

  “No.” I shook my head and straightened in my seat. The hair twirling had been a habit since I was a kid, not a sign of nerves.

  “Something wrong?” he asked.

  “I’m fine.” It was a lie, but I didn’t want to talk about how much I missed Aleksandr.

  “You can talk to me. You know that,right?” Greg cupped my shoulder, causing the hair on my arms to bristle at the unexpected touch. He swept the heavy bangs out of my eyes, only for them to fall right back into place. “Thinking about Varenkov?”

  “Not having this discussion.” I edged away from him as much as I could without sitting on my neighbor’s lap.

  “He’s living his dream a thousand miles away. Without you. And he’s wrecking it up there.” Greg took a long pull on his beer.

  I silently willed myself to keep my clenched fists at my sides. Greg knew exactly which wound to squeeze to promote bleeding. He sounded a lot like Pavel Gribov, which had my right-jab reflex on high alert.

  But Greg was wrong. Charlotte was only 748 miles away.

  “You’re so blind, Auden,” Greg mumbled.

  “What?”

  “I’m right here. I’ll still be here when you realize he’s not coming back.”

  Aleksandr had been right about me from the start; I really was clueless when it came to guys. Greg spewed trash because he was jealous. I tried to recall a time when I’d given Greg the impression I had any interest in him.

  “I can’t do this right now.” I picked up my drink and walked toward Josh. After just finding out I had a brother that my family never told me about, and my boyfriend being miles away when I needed him most, I couldn’t handle having a conversation about Greg’s unrequited love for me.

  Josh tapped me on the shoulder, nodding to the door. “Celebrity sighting at Wreckage.”

  “Great. Fucking great.” I heard Greg mumble.

  Throwing a glance over my shoulder, I inhaled sharp and quick when I spotted the man that I saw only in my dreams these days, the left side of his mouth turned up in a smirk just like the first one he’d ever flashed me.

  Aleksandr looked more god than ghost as he stood in the doorway of Wreckage. Though it had been only a couple of months, he seemed taller, with unfamiliar muscles rippling through the tight black T-shirt he was modeling. It might have been the bar’s lighting or the moonlight shining in from outside, but I swore his cobalt eyes were twinkling.

  I elbowed my way toward the door, throwing “Excuse me” and “Sorry” into the air. A dozen questions about his presence peppered my mind, but the smile on his full, inviting lips made me forget them all.

  I wrapped my arms around his neck and twisted my fingers in his crazy sexy hair before pulling him into the bathroom. Aleksandr’s response was instant, encircling me in his arms and returning the intoxicating, dangerous, passionate kiss.

  Once inside the bathroom, he shoved me against the door, freeing one of his hands to turn the lock. The muscles of his chest were rigid and unyielding as I slid my hands over them. His mouth was hot and wet as he parted my lips with his tongue. He held my lower lip in his teeth, tugging before he released me and pulled away. As he held me at arm’s length, his swirling blue eyes pierced me with an intensity I recognized. Lust. Hunger. Want. I loved when he looked at me that way, like he couldn’t wait to devour me.

  “You’re fucking gorgeous,” Aleksandr whispered in Russian. Hearing him speak his native language, the language we used to communicate knowing no one else understood us, sent flames through me.

  “You’re pretty fucking gorgeous yourself,” I responded, my voice thick and raspy. My palms slid from his hair to the back of his head, prickled by soft stubble.

  Aleksandr pressed his mouth on mine again and placed his palms against the door, boxing me in. I rolled my head to the right, baring my neck for a barrage of fast, firm kisses. He kissed an invisible trail down my chest to the valley between my breasts. He whispered, “I love you,” so softly, I wasn’t even sure if I’d heard it over our accelerated breathing and pumping hearts. Then he brought his face back up, crushing his lips on mine again.

  Though every inch of his hard body still restrained me against the door, the intensity in his touch had softened. Excitement pooled in my core when his calloused fingers brushed my soft cheeks.

  Aleksandr was everything I needed. Gentle and soft, yet hard an
d unyielding when necessary. His burning blue eyes implored mine for answers I couldn’t give right now.

  I looked down, unable to meet the intensity. I wanted to bury my face in my hands, but his body had me immobilized. Though I’d planned to ignore what Greg had said, doubts about Aleksandr were always there. I’d never know what happened while Aleksandr was in Charlotte, or on a road trip. I’d never know who he was hanging out with or if he flirted with other women, whether it was his personality or not. I had to push aside my doubts and insecurities about situations I couldn’t control and only think about what I could.

  I seized his lips again and jumped up to wrap my legs around his waist. He adjusted his arms to cradle me easily, which made me wish I hadn’t worn fishnet stockings under my skirt. He pulled back from me, panting and smiling.

  “I’m not going to fuck you in the bathroom of a bar, Audushka.”

  “Why not?” I asked, breathless and confused.

  He leaned in, his lips brushing my ear, and whispered, “When I fuck you, it’ll be special. Like on the ice or the bar at my place.”

  “Those choices sure do sound romantic.” I laughed and jumped down. He released his grip on my backside, but his hands stayed on my hips. “What are you doing here?”

  “You needed me. I came.”

  It was that simple for him.

  “When do you have to go back?” I couldn’t believe he’d hopped on a plane just to visit me. I must have sounded just as rough as I felt in the message I’d left him last night.

  “Tomorrow morning.”

  I nodded as my heart deflated. Puddles that had been accumulating in the rims of my eyes spilled out.

  “Please don’t do that.” He took my face in his hands, pushing my hair back and wiping the skin under my eyes with his thumbs. “I thought you’d be happy, Audushka.”