8. Cope

8

COPE

She’d looked so damn sad. And worse, she’d looked scared . That potent mix of emotions had pulled me in, the urge to try to help flaring from somewhere deep. But I didn’t have the sort of fix-it skills Shep and Trace had. Only I couldn’t stop myself from trying.

My hand moved down automatically to block as Sutton tried to take out my balls. The move shouldn’t have surprised me. She was a warrior, through and through.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s rude to sneak up on someone?” Those turquoise eyes flashed with a welcome heat.

I liked the anger a hell of a lot better than the sadness and fear. “I don’t think it can be called sneaking when I said your name.” Surprise flashed across her expression. “You were just too engrossed in whatever was on your phone to hear me.”

Sutton’s gaze darted to the device. She quickly locked it and shoved it into her pocket, but I didn’t miss the look of panic on her face as she’d taken in whatever was on the screen. An unsettled feeling swept over me, but I struggled to keep my expression and tone relaxed .

“Want to tell me about it?”

Those stunning eyes lifted to mine. “Why? So you can swoop in and fix it?”

That wasn’t me. That was Shep. The ultimate fixer. But something about Sutton made me want to be that for her. “Maybe. Or so you can let it out and stop it from eating you up inside.”

Sutton let out a shuddered breath as she leaned back against the fence. “Is that what you do? Talk your problems through?”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Fair point. One for one.”

Sutton frowned, a hint of confusion playing on her features.

So, I ripped off the Band-Aid. “I decked a teammate, and the press got ahold of the footage. Some of the higher-ups want to trade me.”

Sutton’s jaw went slack as she gaped at me. “Why’d you punch him?”

I stilled, my body tensing as I cocked my head to the side, studying her. Those who found out about the fight never asked that question. They wanted to know if it would affect my playing, the games I was eligible for. If I’d be fined. At some point, I’d become more hockey player than human being.

But not to Sutton. Maybe it was because she didn’t know anything about hockey. But I sensed that wasn’t the case. She was the kind of person who wanted to get to the heart of the matter. The real stuff.

I stared at her for a moment longer before I spoke. “He said it was my fault that one of our teammates got injured in the playoffs.”

Sutton didn’t look away, searching my eyes for something. “Was it?”

There it was again, that brutal honesty carving to the heart with expert scalpel skills. And in a world of pretty lies, it was refreshing. “Yes, and no.”

She pinned me with a stare that threatened to pull the truth out of me.

“Part of hockey is letting your opponent know you won’t let them get away with hurting your teammates. ”

Sutton’s nose scrunched in an adorably disgusted look. “Is this where the smashing them into the boards comes in?”

A chuckle slipped past my lips. It was the last sound I would’ve expected, given what we were discussing. “See, learning all the hockey lingo already.”

She shook her head, sending her blond waves cascading around her shoulders. I had the sudden bizarre urge to reach out and touch the strands to see if they were as soft as they looked. I wanted to tangle my fingers in that hair as I took her mouth, as I took her .

Fuck.

I shoved the image from my head and ordered my dick to obey. I tried thinking about something else. Like the smell of the locker room after a game when we all ditched our reeking gear.

“Slamming someone into something doesn’t seem like a good solution to a problem,” Sutton muttered.

“Most of the time, you’d be right. But not on the ice. Think of it as setting a boundary or giving a consequence.”

She sent me a droll look. “So, body-slamming someone into a solid surface is the same thing as me taking away Luca’s toys for two days if he doesn’t pick them up when I ask?”

My lips twitched. “Exactly.”

“I find that a little hard to believe.”

I shrugged. “You gotta play the game to fully understand, I think. If the other team knows they can hurt our players without any ramifications, they’ll just do it more.”

“Isn’t that what the refs are for? To stop that sort of thing?” she asked, a hint of worry settling in those beautiful turquoise eyes.

“In some cases, yes. In others, no.”

“Then they need to do a better job,” Sutton snapped.

I grinned at her; I couldn’t help it. “Need you at my next game to lecture the refs into doing better.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine. They aren’t up to the job. So, you have to do it?”

“Exactly.” A feeling of dread settled into my stomach as I remembered the game. The second to last one we’d played that season. “ Player on the other team pulled a dirty move with my left wing. I went after him, but when I did, it left another teammate, a friend, open to attack.”

Sutton instantly read my shift in mood. “Who?” she whispered.

“My friend, Teddy. My right wing. He’s a little smaller than most players but makes up for it with how fucking fast he is. But two guys on the other team got to him, one tripped him while the other took him out with a dirty hit. He went down hard. Skate caught him on the arm. Bad. Severed some important vessels. There was extensive bleeding.”

Memories flashed in my mind of all that blood spilling over the ice, the medics rushing out. The smell of it. It mixed with memories of long ago. The metallic tang in the air. The pained sounds from the front seat.

“Cope.”

A hand landed lightly on my forearm, gently tugging me from the knot of torturous memories. The ones that haunted my dreams and made it impossible for me to even share a room with anyone, let alone a bed. I blinked a few times, the world around me coming back into focus. “Sorry,” I croaked.

“Don’t be,” Sutton said, her voice pitched low. “I know what it’s like to get lost in memories.”

Her hand dropped away as she stepped back, and I felt the loss instantly. Her heat was gone, but the place she’d touched still tingled. Pins and needles, like a hand waking up after losing all feeling. It was almost painful, but I wouldn’t have traded it for anything.

“Your friend, Teddy, is he okay?”

I nodded. “Had minor surgery to repair things. Should be back to full contact by next season.”

I’d reminded myself of that over and over every time the guilt set in. Every time it nearly swallowed me whole.

Sutton was quiet for a moment. “And how are you and the other player? Is everything okay?”

I shook my head and made a tsking noise. “You already got more than your share. It’s your turn. Tell me what gave you those sad eyes.”

Sutton didn’t look away, but shadows swirled in those turquoise depths now. I watched the battle, hoping like hell she wouldn’t give me a brush-off and give me something real. Her gaze shifted away from me and toward the mountains before she finally spoke.

“A ghost.”

Before I could ask anything else, she was moving—away from me and toward the house. In a matter of seconds, she’d turned into the same thing, and I was left wondering if the exchange had ever happened.