Hard Fall by Brenda Rothert
Chapter Seven
Wes
Despite the insanity going on at home, I’d been doing my damnedest to get my head out of my ass on the ice. It wasn’t just me, though. The whole team was in mourning, one way or another. Ben hadn’t just been our team captain; he’d been our friend. Every team had a captain, and I’d played on other teams with other captains but none of them had ever been like Benjamin Whitmer—smart, funny, and empathetic. That last one wasn’t a word most professional athletes used much, but it applied to Ben in spades. It was what made him the best friend a guy could ask for, a great husband and father, and the most incredible team captain I’d ever played with.
Without his presence in the locker room, we were floundering. When it came to on-ice stuff, like talking to the refs and the mundane bullshit that was part of the game, we were fine. Nash and I could handle that. What we didn’t have was the love and respect of everyone in the room. Okay, maybe that wasn’t entirely accurate—there was a lot of love and respect between the majority of us in general—but we didn’t command the same respect Ben had. And somehow, I had to get there. Maybe not to the same level, because I wasn’t trying to replace him, but someone had to replace the role he’d played. We still hadn’t won a game, and if this kept up, we’d break the record for the most losses in a row.
Tonight’s game was against Washington and they were hot right now, on a badass winning streak, chasing us for first place overall in the league. We’d been so far ahead in rankings when Ben died. We were still in first, but only by two points. A loss to them tonight would mean a tie and I desperately wanted to prevent it. So though it pained me, I had to step up and take Ben’s place as the leader. Nash had already said he didn’t want the role, so I was going to do it unless and until my teammates decided otherwise.
“Listen up, boys.” I stood up and looked around. Coach had just come in—he knew I was going to talk to them—along with the rest of the coaching staff and they shut the door behind them. “It’s time. I don’t know how deep you have to dig, what inner strength you have to tap into, but our losing streak ends now. Ben would be horrified. If he’s looking down on us, he’s cursing a blue streak. We cannot—no, we will not—continue down this path. So tell me what you need. If it’s not me, that’s okay. Let’s vote on a new captain, because we’re not doing this anymore.”
There was silence as most of the guys fidgeted, looked at the floor, did anything but make eye contact. Finally, Lars spoke up. “No, has to be you. No one else. Ben would want this.”
“Ben’s gone,” I said softly. “And as much as I miss him, we’re still here so this has to be about what we want. All of us.”
“You.” Nash stood up. “Absolutely you.”
“We don’t have to decide about a captain tonight,” Coach said quietly. “But something has to give.”
“All in for Wes.” Drew stood up next. “We need a captain and he’s it.”
One at a time, every guy on the team stood up and essentially pledged their allegiance to me. Had I been anywhere else, I might have given in to the scratchy feeling behind my eyes, but since I couldn’t, I merely nodded.
“So as a team, we’ve decided to name Weston Kirby our new captain. I’ll let PR know.” Grizzly started to walk out with the other coaches but I called to him.
“Hang on, Coach.” I took a breath. “I accept the vote of confidence and will take on the role in every way that matters, but I’d like to wait until next season to wear the C officially. I’d rather we finished the season with Ben still our honorary captain, and perhaps vote in another alternate. That way, we’re covered behind the scenes but we continue to honor him publicly for the rest of this season.”
Everyone seemed to nod in agreement.
“Tonight, we play for Ben. For real. We take no prisoners; we take no shit. Get out there and play the game we were playing before the night of January fourteenth.”
We filed onto the ice and when the game started, it was like someone had flipped a switch. Nash was all over the place, passing and shooting, making opportunities to score happen. Lars was a fucking bulldog, not just defending Drew, but every one of us, every time he was on the ice. By the end of the first period, we were up 3–0 and it felt like the magic was back—the same shit we’d lost when we’d lost Ben. But a three-goal lead was the most dangerous lead in hockey, so we couldn’t let up.
I skated out to the face-off circle to start the second period and Washington’s enforcer, Denby Harrowman, gave me a smirk.
“Ready to go down, Kirby?”
I smirked right back. “Give it your best shot.”
“Seems to me you can’t shoot for shit without your buddy Whitmer.”
My grip on my stick tightened as I gave him a look. “Watch your mouth.”
“What are you gonna do? Without Whitmer, I bet you can’t even suck your own dick. Too bad he didn’t die at the beginning of the sea—”
The next few minutes happened in slow motion, as if I were someone else, looking in from the outside. I didn’t remember dropping my gloves or throwing the first punch, but there was a reason Harrowman was an enforcer and he came right back at me. I was fueled by grief and rage, though, so every time my fist connected with his jaw, his head snapped back. Hard. He got in a few good shots to my eye, but I finally got him down on the ice, my knee in his chest as I punched his face repeatedly. It took both Lars and Nash to pull me off of him and all I saw was red as the ref pointed to the tunnel, indicating a game misconduct and who knew what the fuck else.
I sat in the locker room breathing hard, blood dripping down my face, completely oblivious to our team trainer, who had to stitch me up. I didn’t remember what I said to Coach when he asked me what the fuck had happened, but whatever I’d said seemed to appease him, because he grunted under his breath, patted me on the shoulder, and moved on. I was probably going to be forced to have a meeting with the player safety department, but I didn’t give a fuck. No one talked about Ben that way. And sure as fuck not this soon after his death.
We won. Despite a five-minute penalty, we killed it off and went on to score two more goals, even without me. The mood in the locker room was the best it had been. I snuck out once again, but at least I’d lit a fire under their asses. Now I just had to calm down, because even after beating the living shit out of Harrowman and getting it out of my system, I was still on a tear. I wanted to rage, to yell and scream and drink and hit things. Harrowman’s comment—even though I knew it was nothing but trash talk to throw me off my game—cut deep, an indication of just how much Ben’s death had affected me.
Part of the problem was that I hadn’t really grieved. With two kids at home and a busy hockey schedule, there was no time to breathe, much less give in to grief. The team offered counseling, but I had to be realistic, and the reality was that I didn’t feel comfortable talking to a stranger about what Ben had meant to me and how much losing him changed my life. The one person I could talk to, and would have talked to if she wasn’t such a bitch, was Hadley. I tried so hard to be nice to her, to show her we could work together to raise these kids, but she shut me down time and time again. Our relationship was as exhausting as Benny and Annalise were.
I let myself into the house quietly, hoping she and the kids were asleep, but she was in the kitchen when I came in. She turned around right away, a look I couldn’t quite decipher on her face.
“Hey.” I stopped to grab a bottle of water out of the refrigerator.
“What were you thinking?” she demanded, hands on her hips.
I turned in confusion. “What?”
“You know how much Annalise likes to watch her uncles play hockey. You know she watches as many games as she can stay up for! How do you think she reacted to seeing you fighting like that?”
Crap. I’d never given a second thought to Annalise watching the fight.
“It couldn’t be helped,” I said quietly. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow and explain that it’s part of the game.”
“It’s violent and disgusting!” she hissed. “What you did to that poor guy…I can’t believe you think you’re fit to be a parent to anyone’s kids, much less these ones!”
I whirled on her, fists clenched at my sides. “You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about. You don’t know the first goddamn thing about hockey, or me for that matter, so why don’t you keep your opinions to yourself for once?”
“I will not. This is the kind of behavior that makes it spectacularly clear that you’re not fit to be their guardian.” She folded her arms across her chest, tapping her foot as if she were winning some sort of argument.
I advanced on her a bit more aggressively than I should have, but I was still hopping mad, fueled on adrenaline and pain. She took a step back but I kept going, until she was up against the wall.
“Let me explain something to you,” I growled under my breath, looking down into startled yellow-green eyes. “Fighting has a long history in hockey. It’s tradition. It’s part of the sport. It serves a purpose. Usually to let the other team know they can’t get away with something they were trying to get away with. Can you understand that?”
She swallowed, her jaw tightening in annoyance. “I understand all that,” she ground out. “But what you did tonight was different. It was violent. You were an animal. You—”
“I beat the shit out of the guy who said it was too bad Ben hadn’t died earlier in the season.” I glared down at her, my heart racing a mile a minute.
Her eyes widened and her mouth formed an “O” but no sound came out. Then she frowned, sadness in her voice as she whispered, “He actually said that?”
“Yeah. He did.” I still had her pinned against the wall but something had shifted. Her breath was coming in short, staccato little bursts now, her 34D’s rising and falling at the same time. Her eyes blazed with—pain? Anger? It was hard to tell, but when she licked her lips, the moisture glistening on them beckoned to me like a beacon in a storm.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice was uneven, her tone apologetic. “I didn’t know—”
“Just this one time, can you shut up, please?” I muttered. “Because I’m going to kiss you. Unless you say no. But the window for you to do that closes in two seconds.”
Her mouth opened and, once again, nothing came out.
“Hadley.” I met her gaze and she gave me a barely perceptible nod but that was all I needed. I crashed my mouth to hers, sliding one arm around her waist and pulling her against me. Her lips parted beautifully, her tongue meeting mine stroke for stroke, and I didn’t let up. I pillaged her mouth like a thief in the night, taking pull after pull until she was grinding against my groin, our bodies pressed together. And hers was made for loving. Slender, with luscious curves, and goddamn, those tits made me insane. I would’ve given my left nut to suck on them.
“Aunt Hadley? I had a bad dream…where are you?” Annalise’s voice from the hallway made us jump apart and Hadley hurriedly smoothed down her top as she took a shaky breath, her eyes not meeting mine.
“I’m coming, baby.” Gaze still averted, she hurried out of the room without looking back.
I watched her retreating figure with a mixture of frustration and regret. I would have done anything to follow her, kiss her some more, but I knew better. One kiss probably didn’t change how she felt about me and I wasn’t the kind of guy to take advantage of a woman who was feeling vulnerable. The trouble was, I was vulnerable too.
“Lauren and I want you to be the baby’s godfather,” Ben said, a smile lighting his face as he eyed me. “You down?”
“For you and Lauren? Anything.” I paused. “Wait, let me guess, Hadley is going to be the godmother.”
Ben laughed, a full-on belly laugh that made me want to knock him off the barstool he was sitting on. “Lauren said Hadley had the same exact reaction when she asked her about being the godmother. You two are such a hot mess.”
“I truly have never met someone who pisses me off the way she does.” I took a sip of my drink.
“I think the two of you want each other bad, but you’re too damn stubborn to admit it.”
“Would I have sex with her? Sure. But I can’t talk to her for more than thirty seconds before I want to kill myself, so I’m going to say no, we do not want each other at all beyond maybe a quick roll in the hay. Assuming she actually even likes sex.”
“Look, she and Lauren are going to be here any minute. Could you please just try to be nice?”
“I’m not the one who’s not nice,” I shot back. “And it kind of pisses me off that you’re always defending her.”
Ben sighed. “You think I don’t defend you when the tables are turned?”
“I don’t know. Do you?” I met his gaze with irritation. Things hadn’t been the same since we’d left college. We were still tight, of course, but with me playing in New York and him in St. Louis, it was hard to stay in touch, keep up with the day-to-day details we’d shared since we were fourteen. Not to mention, he now had a wife and a baby on the way. Meanwhile, I was still footloose and fancy-free, sleeping my way through Manhattan while playing hockey for one of the best teams in the league.
“Come on, you know better than that. I’m just giving you shit, and while I really do wish you and Hadley would get along, nothing comes between us. You’re my brother—biology notwithstanding.”
“I know.” I looked away.
“What’s really bothering you? Everything okay?”
“It’s been weird playing without you. I love what I’m doing, and the hockey here is fucking amazing, but I don’t love living here, and my teammates have been a little standoffish. I think I’m gonna get traded.”
Ben’s eyebrows rose a little. “For real? You have any feelers out?”
“My agent’s been on top of it, but I’m not sure where we’re at.”
Ben looked thoughtful. “Any interest in coming to St. Louis?”
I was surprised. “You think that’s possible?”
“I don’t know for sure, but we could use a winger like you to round out the second line. Let your agent know you’re interested.”
“I will. Definitely.” I was about to thank him when I spotted Lauren and Hadley coming through the restaurant toward us. Lauren looked more beautiful than ever, her tiny baby bump on display with a tight sweater and leggings. Hadley looked like a freakin’ supermodel, with a full face of makeup, wearing all black and the highest heels I’d ever seen.
“Hey, babe.” Ben got up to kiss his wife and pull out her chair and I reluctantly got up to do the same for Hadley.
“Hey, ladies.” I leaned over to kiss Lauren on the cheek and Hadley used the momentary distraction to slide into her chair before I could pull it out.
“Hey, good-lookin’!” Lauren hugged me before sitting down.
“Hey, Ben.” Hadley briefly smiled at him before pulling out her phone and typing something in.
God, she drove me crazy, but we were about to become godparents to Ben and Lauren’s baby, so I had to suck it up and be on my best behavior. Thank God I only saw her once or twice a year.
“So did Ben tell you the news?” Lauren asked, grinning.
“Yup.” I grinned back at her because I truly loved my best friend’s wife almost as much as he did. “And I can’t fucking wait. I don’t know what a godfather is supposed to do, but I’m in, whatever it takes.”
“We know that,” Ben said. “That’s why we chose you.”
Hadley put away her phone and though she was cool as fuck to me, the four of us carried on pleasant conversation all through dinner. Lauren wasn’t drinking, of course, but Ben and I were three or four bourbons in by the time dinner was over, and I’d lost count of how many martinis Hadley had ordered.
She was kind of cute when she was drunk, though, giggling a lot—even at my jokes—and constantly telling Lauren she loved her. It was obvious how close they were, despite the distance between them since Lauren was in St. Louis with Ben and Hadley worked here in Manhattan. Ironically, I had zero desire to hang out with her even though we only lived about ten subway stops from each other.
“I’m going to the ladies’ room.” Hadley got to her feet and stumbled a little.
“You want me to come with?” Lauren asked her.
“I’m good!” Hadley waved a hand, tottering on those stupidly high heels as she weaved in and out toward the back.
I watched her go because she had a great ass and long legs, but I wasn’t the only one who noticed. At least half a dozen heads in the restaurant turned, especially one guy sitting at the other end of the bar. Once we’d finished dinner and dessert, we’d moved to the bar so our waiter could seat another party at the table, and there had been quite a few guys eyeing Hadley since it was pretty obvious we weren’t together. She was oblivious, though, and I wasn’t sure whether it was because she was drunk, she wasn’t interested, or she genuinely had no idea how gorgeous she was.
One of the guys at the end of the bar nudged his buddy, who looked at Hadley’s disappearing back, and then got up, following in the direction she’d gone.
Shit.
Did I mind my own business or did I go after her, just to make sure she was okay?
I mumbled something about having to take a leak and went back to the restrooms. Hadley was against the wall, the guy who’d followed her loosely boxing her in with one hand against the wall just to her right and the other reaching for her. Hadley swatted his hand away, shaking her head. The guy laughed, lowering his head as if he were going to kiss her and Hadley shoved at his chest.
That was all I needed to see and I reached out, yanking the guy away by the back of his shirt.
“Hey!” He swung around, poised for a fight, but the minute he saw me he stepped back.
“Is there a problem here?” I asked, leveling my gaze at him.
“Oh, hey, Kirby, sorry, I didn’t realize she was yours.” The guy nodded at me and headed away at a fast clip.
“What the hell was that?” Hadley demanded, glaring at me.
“I thought he was hassling you,” I protested. “I was just trying to help.”
“I can take care of myself,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “This isn’t my first night out in the big city. Guys hit on me all the time.”
“Oh, well, excuse the fuck out of me for trying to be a nice guy.”
“Ha!” She rolled her eyes. “There isn’t a single nice thing about you, Wes Kirby. In the future, mind your own business!”
“Absolutely,” I said, throwing up my hands. “Next time, I’ll be sure to let the creep from the bar assault you. No skin off my teeth.” I shook my head and stalked back out to the bar. She was truly the world’s biggest pain in the ass.