4. Cope

4

COPE

Mayhem reigned as the kids charged across the ice, letting out screams and battle cries. Some raced, others crashed into each other, enjoying the protection their pads afforded. It was fucking adorable.

Kenner skated to a stop next to me. “How’s it feel being on the other side of things?”

I watched as Luca darted around another kid named Daniel. His skating was damn good for someone with no hockey experience. “Kinda nice,” I admitted. “Reminds me of when the game was pure.”

Kenner raised a brow at that.

I quickly changed tack, the feeling of showing too many cards churning in my gut. “And it feels damn good to be the one holding the whistle.” I picked it up from around my neck and gave two short blasts. “That’s it for today, you monsters. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

There was a mixture of cheers and protests, but all the kids started toward the boards and their waiting parents. I couldn’t help scanning the crowd in search of blond hair and turquoise eyes. The moment I caught sight of her, I couldn’t look away .

It was more than just how beautiful she was. It was how she curved around her son in a move equal parts protection and attunement as if what he was saying was the most important thing in the world. Growing up with the siblings I had and knowing the things that had brought most of them into foster care, I knew that it was far too rare to see that sort of attention.

And I knew what a gift it was. I’d felt that. As if nothing was more important than the absolute nonsense coming out of my mouth. An invisible blow hit me in the solar plexus, but it might as well have been a stone fist. It didn’t matter that it had been seventeen years since I’d lost Jacob and my dad; grief still lashed out like a sucker punch. Grief and guilt.

“I wouldn’t go there.”

Kenner’s voice cut into my spiraling thoughts, and I blinked, trying to pull myself from the darkness and the memory of screeching tires and shattering glass. So much pain. Slowly, the rink came back into focus.

Sutton was almost done helping Luca out of his gear. How long had I been staring? Shit. I forced my gaze toward my fellow coach. “Sorry, what?”

Kenner inclined his head in her direction. “Sutton Holland. I wouldn’t go there. I sense she’s been through a lot.”

I stiffened, the reaction fueled by too many things. First, Kenner clearly had his sights set on Sutton. My annoyance at that was beyond ridiculous when all I’d shared with the woman was a few bantered barbs. Second, the woman who kept stealing my attention was apparently single—not a temptation I needed. But more than everything else was the knowledge that something in Sutton’s past may have harmed her.

Kenner likely meant she had a dickhead ex. But I couldn’t help worrying that it was something more. My gaze cut back to Sutton as if my eyes had a mind of their own. Luca’s hand was firmly in hers as they headed for the facility doors, and she carried the massive gear bag as if it were nothing.

It was more than clear that she was used to shouldering the weight of the world. I had the most bizarre urge to go after her, take the bag from her hold, and carry it to her damn SUV. A vehicle I hoped had a new tire by now.

“Cope?” Kenner pushed.

I shook my head. “Sorry, it’s not that. She just reminds me of someone.”

What a stupid lie. I’d spent maybe ten minutes with the woman and already knew she was one of a kind.

“Oh, sorry,” Kenner mumbled. “Didn’t mean to overstep.”

The hell he didn’t. He wanted to piss a circle around Sutton. I knew guys like him. They played the long game. Pretending to be an unassuming friend but always with the goal of getting in her pants.

My back teeth ground together as I forced a smile. “No worries, man.”

A flash of movement caught my attention as a figure pushed onto the ice. Her ease of motion told me she was at home there. Her skates told me she was a figure skater.

She crossed the rink in six long strides. “I heard we had a legend in the house.”

Her gaze slid over me in a look that had me fighting not to take a step back. Jesus. The girl looked barely over eighteen. And that was not my thing. Not since I’d been eighteen. And that was twelve years ago.

“Raven,” Kenner greeted coolly.

The girl smiled sweetly at him, curling the end of her inky black ponytail around her fingers. “Coach. Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”

Hell, I didn’t want to be introduced.

Kenner’s lips twitched. “Looks to me like you already know him.”

Her cheeks flushed. “You know what I mean.”

“Nice to meet you, Raven. I gotta jam. See you tomorrow, Coach.” I shoved off the edge of my skate, darting around the girl and toward the boards, but the moment I saw the two figures waiting there, I almost went back to the piranha in spandex.

Of all my siblings, of course , Trace and Shep were here. Every sibling seemed to have a role in my family. Trace always kept us in line, which was fitting since he was the eldest and had also become sheriff of Mercer County.

Shep was the caretaker, the one who always made sure we were okay. In the past, the well-being of others had come at the expense of his at times. But since meeting Thea, I’d sensed a shift in him. He was more balanced. But that didn’t change the number of times he checked in on us all.

I forced an easy smile as I skated over to the exit—the kind of grin my brothers expected of me. Because I had my own role to play. Easygoing. Daredevil. A touch reckless. It was easier to stay there than to let anyone in on the truth.

“Who narced on me?” I asked as I stepped off the ice and onto the mat.

“Chill,” Shep said. “No one narced. Thea has a friend with a kid in this camp. She wanted to know why Thea hadn’t told her you were one of the coaches.”

I winced as I sat on the bench and unlaced my skates. The accusation was clear in Shep’s words. He wanted to know why the hell I hadn’t told him . And Trace’s silent stare was enough to punctuate the point.

Sliding off one skate, I grabbed my carry bag. “New development. Linc and Coach Fielder thought it might be a good move for me.”

Shep and Trace were silent for a long moment as I took my second skate off. It was Trace who finally spoke. “Because of the media coverage lately.”

There wasn’t judgment in his tone, but I felt it anyway. In the sheer knowledge that he’d been checking up on me. Sometimes, Trace felt more like a parole officer than a brother.

I shoved my skates into my bag and slid on my sneakers. “You know the media are vultures.”

More silence. This time, Shep did the talking. It was like they were playing out some sort of good-cop, bad-cop routine. “What’s going on? There’s a video of you punching Marcus Warner without any provocation. That’s not you. ”

My fingers fisted around the strap of my gear bag. No, it wasn’t me. And that should’ve been the first clue there was more to the story. But Shep wasn’t even giving me that.

And in some ways, I understood it. There was a reason I’d been named The Reaper. Because I was known for being brutal on the ice. If you came for one of my teammates, I’d come for you.

Which was exactly what had happened during that game against Dallas. It had been a bloody battle from the moment we stepped on the ice. But I’d felt it even before. A warning that crackled in the air.

My left wing, Louie, had gotten a stick to the ribs, and I wouldn’t let that fly. I’d gone for the Dallas player responsible, but it had left Teddy open. Two opposing players had taken him out, and he ended up with a brutal slice to his forearm that meant sitting out a few games.

I could still hear Marcus’s words from practice the next day. “Our team captain just had to play the hero. Didn’t you, Colson? But we all know the truth. The only person you give a damn about is yourself. And it could get the rest of us killed.”

“Cope,” Shep pressed. “Tell us what’s going on.”

I shoved to my feet. “Nothing. I’m good. Just the press biting at my heels, and it’d be nice if my brothers had my back instead of thinking I was a loose cannon about to explode.”

It was a dick thing to say, but I didn’t stop to apologize. I just headed for the doors and out into the summer heat. But the temperature did nothing to take the bite off the chill that had settled in my bones. One that said I was a hell of a lot worse than a loose cannon. And bashing people into the boards wasn’t keeping my temper in check the way it once had.