12. Teddy

CHAPTER 12

TEDDY

H arlow follows me into the house, both of us dripping water. I’m proud of her for getting in the hot tub, and I’m upset with myself because I feel so powerless.

Wrapped in a striped towel, little dew drops of water glisten on the ends of her damp, dark hair. “What about the vow we made?”

“Not to act like our siblings? The fact that I don’t engage in illegal sports betting and points shaving has me covered.”

“No, the other one.”

“What other vow?” I ask, taking this to the limit because I’m tired of being two ships passing each other.

“Not to date each other’s siblings.”

She doesn’t know that I only agreed so Tim didn’t get his grubby, greedy mitts on her.

Uncharacteristically flustered, Harlow flaps her hands. “That means dating was, er, is off-limits for us too.”

“Statute of limitations. We said nothing about perpetuity. If that was a clause in the fine print, I’ll break it. Pay the penalty. Whatever.”

Harlow balls her fists because I’m not pushing back the way she wants me to—in a way that would make it easy for us to go our separate ways. “You say that I’m stuck in the past. What about you? You’re avoiding the future.”

I narrowly dodge her verbal arrow. “I’m ready to go all in.”

“On us. But what about hockey?”

Oof. She landed that one right in my chest.

“You’re just so casual and carefree about the whole stay-or-go thing,” Harlow says.

“I have cares. Lots of them.” Namely her.

“You can’t walk away from your career or let it slip through your fingers, Teddy. Not for me.”

A hard truth hits me like a truck, pointing to why I’ve been avoiding the Lions and Coach Badaszek. “If I quit, that means I’ll no longer have the resources to bail Tim out.”

“So instead of telling him that, you contemplated leaving professional hockey and are having me do your dirty work with his case?”

“I told you not to provide him legal counsel.”

“But what did you tell him ? Given Tim’s track record, he has no idea what his rights are and third parties will likely infringe upon them with the intent to prosecute, impeding any chance he has to make a claim in his defense.”

My cheeks puff with an exhale. She couldn’t have overheard the conversation I had with my brother upstairs, but she knows me well. Better than anyone. I told my brother to find an alternative means of support. That I can no longer help him with money, meaning my way to cut my brother off by quitting hockey is no longer an option. I have to choose. Knights or Lions.

I pick Harlow.

“You avoid conflict. Confrontation. You just waltz through life, glass half full, everything is unicorns and butterflies. Sometimes it’s cloudy. Sometimes the glass is half empty.” Her gaze pinches. “Sometimes the water is contaminated, poisoned. People can drown in it.”

I brush my hand down my face. “You’re not wrong.”

“Which means I’m right that the carefree, la-dee-dah life you live is a fa?ade. Deep down you’re also scared. You hide behind extravagance and indulgence. Or you’re the peacekeeper, trying to keep your brother out of trouble because you think you have to keep things positive in order to be loved.”

I wince because the truth stings.

“You’ve never been with someone long term because your parents divorced and you don’t believe relationships last. That anything does, so you’re afraid to commit.” Harlow’s tone is harsh. So is the truth . . . that she’s trying to get me to quit on her too.

I throw up my hands. “And the fact that you’ve never dated someone past seven months proves my point.”

She huffs. “So, what’s it going to be?”

She backs me into a corner and I fire right back. “While we’re both being so brutally honest, what about your job? Why were you still there until last week? Roller derby and tea blends are what you want to do. You’re afraid if you take the leap, you’ll fail.”

Her eyes narrow and her mouth tightens in adorable frustration like she wants to stick her tongue out at me and be done with this. My eyes flick to her lips . . . to what I’d like to do right now.

She licks them. “What if we’re just doing this because everyone we know is settling down, getting married, and having kids?”

I snort in dissent. “Sounds to me like you’re grasping at objections.”

“Why would I do that?” Harlow crosses her arms in front of her chest.

I gently unfold them, holding her hands. “Because you’re scared. Trust me, I don’t want to lose our friendship. I want to fix this. But maybe we both have to break down and be brave . . . with each other and in our lives.”

“I’ve told you that you’re grumpy because you don’t do what you love.” Taking my own advice, I add, “And because you’re not with who you love.” Her weakness is making the change.

She pales and her gaze grabs ahold of mine. “Don’t you see? If I let myself fall, there’s no one to catch me. It was always you and if it doesn’t work out between us . . .”

“What if you already fell?” I ask.

She jolts. “Are you talking about when I had my wisdom teeth out?” Pausing, she adds, “So, you remember?”

“I saw the evidence. Didn’t destroy it.” I tap my phone and open my photo album, scrolling to the screenshot I took all those years ago.

She glances but doesn’t need to read it. She already knows what she wrote.

“Harlow, I don’t think this is sudden. I think we’ve been falling for each other for a very long time. ”

She looks at the floor between us and stuffs her hands in her pockets, suddenly shy.

Crooking my forefinger under her chin, I lift her gaze to mine. “I love you.” I enunciate each word, including the you , and make sure it doesn’t sound like a friendly love ya .

The moment stretches like a fissure of ice racing across a pond.

She splutters and rushes from the room.

Feeling heavy, I slouch onto the stool at the kitchen island. At first, my thoughts recount everything that just happened like a game debrief. But then they dissolve and there’s nothing. A big void inside. Darkness. I took my shot. Missed the goal. Game over.

Despite the ever-present tightness in my chest and my internal fracas, I give Harlow space the following day. The Ice Breakers have a big game, and I have to focus.

Not on us. Not on my brother.

On hockey.

Harlow had a point about me avoiding the future and trying to keep the peace. Easier said than done. I channel my energy onto the ice with hard practices and give all my attention to this charity game.

It’s for a good cause and at the moment, that’s all I’ve got.

The electric hum in the arena reminds me why I love this sport. Despite appearances, I don’t play hockey because I want to be famous or adored. No, I’m here for the fans. I want them to be entertained, and to see beyond the bounds of what they think is possible for the sport and their lives. For people to be inspired and awed.

I love the buzz from the seats as they cheer, chant, and sing along to our song with its deep beats and chorus. Especially in the second period when I gain control of the puck for a breakout in our defensive zone. Noah sets himself up to offer cover for Dawson if necessary—no one wants a turnover at this point. Our wingers are in position and hometown-hero center and captain Dan is open to receive the puck. What happens next is a thing of beauty, and we get the points that push us ahead of the opposing team.

We play a good game. A great one, in fact. Our on-ice communication is solid. Movement is swift. We’re in it to win it. And we do.

It’s taken some time to get used to the nuances of Dawson, our goalie: Dan, Cooper, and Scotty on the front line; and my counterpart Noah. It’s been a fun run so far and has given me perspective. I’ve got a good thing going in Nebraska.

Coach Badaszek has called numerous times, and I’m well overdue to get back to him. Vohn even left me a text, which isn’t like him. The guy has two modes. No and no way. I’ve decided to stick with the Knights because not only do I play for the fans, but for my teammates too. I don’t want to let them down. That means I’m going back to Omaha.

If things with Harlow hadn’t fallen apart, would she have wanted to go there? I hear there’s a great roller derby community and loads of cafes where she could sell her tea. In fact, Neal—retired former Knight—and his wife Greta opened a sports coffee bar called Fire and Ice Sports Coffee and Beverage Bar in Cobbiton. Technically, it’s the town that hosts the Knights’ home arena right next to Omaha.

Harlow is friends with Willa, of course, related to Angel, and after our autumn escapes and haunted house hijinks, she’s gotten close to some of the other women who’re involved in the team . . . and with the guys. Wink. Wink. I wonder if she watched. Truth be told, I played the game for her too. Gave it my all. But I guess she was right. It’s just not good enough.

During the press conference, Troy welcomes everyone and his brother Zach says a few words before introducing all of us to the press.

Afterward, I check my phone. To my surprise, Pierre, from the Knights, texted, congratulating me on the game and offering a donation to the charity.

I call him and we chat for a few minutes.

“Dude, where’s the sun?”

“It’s ten pm,” I answer dully.

“No, you’re like a human ray of sunshine. What’s going on? Why don’t I hear shouts of celebration in the background?” Pierre asks.

Running my hand along my stubble, I realize I haven’t shaved in days. “Yeah. We’re going to meet up later, probably.”

“I know you. Something doesn’t check out. Do you need to talk?” he asks in a rare moment of calm, candor. The guy is a raconteur when it comes to his exploits with women, and I don’t expect him to offer to have a heart-to-heart, not even bro-style.

Instead of telling him I’m fine, I spill everything that’s happened with Harlow and me .

He whistles. “Sounds like you got hoisted by your own petard.”

“I know you’re fluent in French, but English, please.”

“You outfoxed yourself. Sunk by your own scheme.”

“Then you heard about what happened with Tim.”

“Saw that coming a mile away. But instead of always being there to save him, you have a relationship to salvage.”

“You mean friendship.”

“Sounds like you were good as friends, but great at love.”

“Unrequited love,” I mutter.

“Au contraire, from what you said it’s quite requited. I saw you two cozied up at Maple Fest.”

“What? How?”

“Fans noticed too, and it’s posted all over social media. You, the big bad Bear, protecting her from the witches and ghosts at the haunted house . . .” He laughs.

“We were there as friends,” I say.

“Have you listened to anything you’ve said?”

“We did our best to prove that we can just be friends. I guess I should just take it as a win.”

“No, you failed. There are all kinds of friends. Old friends, new friends, work friends, hockey friends . . . girlfriends. Love friends.”

“Love friends? What do you know about that? You’re perpetually dating.”

“I know plenty. Ask yourself this. If you don’t try to give it a go with her, will you regret it?”

“Immensely. But I have tried. That’s the problem.”

“Friendships, relationships, ships sail. You need to rethink this. Focus on the friend and the relation parts. You can have both. Think of it like a BOGO.”

“Buy one get one free?”

He chuckles. “Something like that. I expect to see you both in Omaha next month. Bonne journée .”

Our call ends, leaving me with a question. Can I have both a friendship and a relationship with Harlow?

I wish the answer was one hundred percent, but I’m afraid the odds are stacked against us. Then again, I’m the kind of guy who defies probability.