Chapter Twelve

The first period flies by with no one scoring on either team, but I’m worked up and ready to fight after getting cross checked into the glass three times by the same guy. He thinks I’m easy prey at my age, but I’m about to show him what the inside of a bloody ambulance looks like if he shoves me one more time. We have thirty seconds left before the first intermission. He comes across the ice just as Sullivan passes to me. I spin to my right and evade him, but he trips me up with his stick. I lose the puck and my temper all at once.

The ref blows his whistle for a tripping call, but I’ve had enough. The gloves come off and suddenly, the guy”s face looks a lot like Finchley’s old man’s. I manage to land a solid left hook as he goes for my jersey. It’s halfway up my back before I catch his foot with mine and yank it out from under him. Then I’m on him. Blood thrums in my ears, blocking out the sounds of the referee yelling. It isn’t until I’m yanked off of the guy that the haze of anger fades.

The ref drags me to the penalty box and I catch a glimpse of Coach Pratt. His lips are pinched together and his face is red. I know what comes next. I’m in for a giving out so lengthy, I’ll be old and gray when he’s done. The time runs down, which means I’ll be serving my penalty in the next period.

In the locker room, the guys moan and groan. This team is a beast to play, and none of us are having a good time.

“I don’t know what’s going on out there, but can you boys start playing like you’ve done this before?” Pratt asks, shaking his head. “We beat them and there’s one more game for us to bring that cup to our house. Need I remind you what happens if we lose tonight?”

A round of no sir echoes in the locker room and he relaxes.

“Evan, nice job so far. Keep up the hard work but watch number 12. He’s got it out for you. Everyone else keep your hands to yourselves and get that blasted puck in their net.” Pratt dismisses us with a wave of his hand just in time to catch the end of Finchley’s performance.

She’s just putting her feet back on the ground, ready to light up our exit ring with flames. We need the morale boost, for sure, but seeing her in costume is a feast for my eyes. Now that I know it’s her, she’s even more stunning. The mystery of her stage makeup and how in her element she is brings back all those same feelings I had in high school.

Our first kiss comes to mind, the way she got so angry with me for being down on myself, she launched herself across the table and kissed me. I run my tongue over my lips, desperate to feel her there again. Where she belongs.

It’s my turn to skate through the ring of fire, and when I do, I make eye contact with Finchley. Even in the darkened arena, I don’t miss her smile. We line up again and wait for the performance to end. Once the area is cleared and the Zamboni makes a final pass, we’re ready to go again.

Evan roughs up his crease and we head to center ice. Sullivan gets the puck on the drop and passes to me. I’m wide open, but not for long. Two of Atlanta’s men shove me into the glass, but the puck is already on its way back to Sullivan. He makes a break for it and passes to Baros, who shoots and scores. The crowd erupts and I take a deep breath. We can do this. We can keep this up and take this win.

We take a few more hits and Gray scores another goal, keeping us ahead. When the game ends, we’ve won and we’re officially tied with Atlanta in the final playoff rounds. One more game decides the champion, and to the guys, that is cause for celebration.

We’re heading to Brokedown to celebrate our hard-earned win, but all I can think about is whether Finchley will be there. The locker room ruckus is loud and unruly, but the guys have never been this close to the cup before.

“Doyle, you have visitors.” Yates nods towards the door and grins. “Your lady and her lovely friend are in the hall.”

Her lovely friend. April must have arrived, and I find myself oddly giddy to see her too. It’s all real, and my heart skips. I yank on my shirt and pants, too eager to see them to care whether they even match. Once I step into my shoes, I hurry out the door to find the cousins deep in conversation. April spies me first and opens her arms wide. I’m not expecting it, but her hugs are always the grandest.

“Aiden Doyle, you brute,” she teases and wraps her arms around my neck. I pull her into a hug but my eyes find Finchley’s. Her warmth radiates from her and that sweet smile, but something bothers her. I can tell by her guarded stance. Still, I don’t want to push, so I’ll wait and let her tell me what it is when she’s ready.

“You fine lasses joining us at the tavern tonight?” I ask, finally dragging my eyes from Birdie. She looks gorgeous with her hair down in waves, but then, she always does.

“With a whole team of hotties? How can a lady turn that down?” April asks.

Finchley nudges her. “Most of them are taken. Behave yourself.”

“Aye, but not all,” I tease and offer my arms to them both. “What a lucky man I am with two gorgeous lasses by my side.” I escort them to the Mustang and help them in.

Brokedown is in full swing, filled with people equally as excited for our win. The town hasn’t brought a cup home in almost two decades, and they’re ready for their boys to bring it back. We’re only too happy to oblige.

“Hey, there’s Greer and Evan,” Finchley says, pointing out our friends. “Let’s ease April into the crazy with them first.”

She’s not wrong. We Dragons seem to collect friends and family like treasure, but I can’t complain. At least, I can’t until we settle in and receive our appetizers. We no sooner dig into the nachos, than a man steps up to Finchley and grasps her forearm. She gasps and leans toward me. In an instant, the mood at our table tenses and she presses her back against my side.

“Stephen. What do you want? What are you doing here?”

Stephen removes his hand and raises it. “I only want to talk. Can we step away for a moment?”

“Whatever you want to say, you can say right here,” she says, crossing her arms.

I want to punch him. I want to do a lot more than that, but it isn’t my place unless Finchley gives me the word. Until then, I slink my arm around her waist and sit beside her, waiting patiently for this disaster to unfold.

“Finchley, I need to explain something to you in private. It will only take a moment, then I’ll go.” Stephen’s tone is even but anyone can tell he’s lying.

Finchley licks her lips and sighs. “Fine, but only because I don’t think you’re stupid enough to cause a scene here in public. I’m not going outside with you though.”

I tense. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

She offers me a forced smile. “Yes. Let me get this over with once and for all.”

She steps away from the safety of our table and follows him to the other side of the room where they sit at the bar together. A feral animal comes to life in me, but I try to bite it down and let her handle her business on her terms. Everyone at the table watches, waiting with bated breath.

“I can’t believe he came here after what happened this afternoon,” Greer says.

“What happened?” Evander asks, his eyes never leaving Stephen.

“When we showed up at Finchley’s house, he was already there. It looked like he’d already roughed her up a little, if I’m honest.” Her gaze drifts to me, filled with worry. “I’m not positive though. He tried to convince us he’s her fiancé, then tried to get us to leave. He was planning to take her with him back home I guess.”

The other ladies keep quiet, probably unsure what to do. My skin itches as I watch Finchley talk to him, this Stephen guy who is nothing but a lot of words I cannot express in the presence of ladies. It takes everything in me to stay in my seat when all I want to do is go over there and deck the guy. My leg bounces under the table, a steady rhythm that does nothing to keep me calm. When Stephen raises his voice and stands, my entire body jolts.

“Easy, Aiden,” Bridger warns. “Just wait.”

I blow out a breath in frustration. He’s right. I don’t aim to cause any trouble at our favorite place, but if he raises his voice again, I cannot be held responsible for what I do.

“I don’t like this,” April says. “Every time he shows up, bad things happen.” She brushes her curly black hair from her face and her warm eyes connect with mine. “I know she told you about him and what happened. He’s a loose cannon. Do you think we can end this without a scene?”

“You want me to step in?” I ask, glancing between Finchley and April.

“I think it’s best to separate them before—”

I don’t hear anything else she says because my attention zooms in on Stephen latching onto Finchley’s arm. She winces and tries to yank her arm free, but he’s dragging her toward the door, screaming about causing a scene. White hot rage scorches my entire body and I’m out of the booth before April or anyone else can calm me down. I cross the tavern and step between Stephen and Finchley, grasping his forearm so tight he doesn’t have a choice but to release her.

“This doesn’t involve you,” Stephen shouts. “Go sit back down while I get my fiancée out of this trash heap.” He looks around and curls his lip in disgust.

“She isn’t going anywhere with the likes of you,” I growl, feeling Finchley tense behind me. Her arm is wrapped around my waist as she presses her small body against my back. She trembles like a leaf, which pushes my rage to a boiling point.

Stephen’s eyes narrow into a glare. “You are interfering in personal business, and I don’t think I need to remind you how Mr. Bennett feels about such things.”

I’m a second away from decking this waste of a good suit, but a hand on my shoulder calms me just enough to hold myself together. Someone squeezes my shoulder, reminding me I’m not alone. I glance over to find Dex standing in solidarity with me. The Dragons are a family. We fight for one another.

“I think you need to leave. You’re ruining everyone’s fun,” Dex says.

“I’ll go, but she’s coming with me.” Stephen moves to grab Finchley from behind me, so I shove him back. He stumbles backward for a few steps, then rights himself and adjusts his suit.

“Listen, I’m going to speak nice and slow so you can understand. Finchley is not yours. She’s mine, and I’m going to take her home tonight. Am I clear, Irish trash?”

The entire tavern gasps. We’ve made a right show of ourselves and it’s only about to get worse.

“I’m going to ask you as politely as possible to leave,” Evander says, standing beside me. There is no chance Stephen can even see Finchley behind the wall of Dragons separating him from her, and if he tries to lay another finger on her, he might leave without an arm.

“I can be here if I want to be. What are you going to do about it?” Stephen asks. I’ll give him this much, he’s got guts but not much going on in his head.

Evander chuckles and raises his arms while glancing around the room. “Look where you are right now, dude. Take in your surroundings for a moment. This Irish gentleman is my brother. Our brother. I’d go now if you know what’s best for you.”

Stephen points a finger at me and puffs his chest. “I’m going to sue you. I’ll sue all of you. You’ll never play another game for the rest of your lives.”

I’m just about to say that playing hockey means absolutely nothing to me compared to Finchley’s health and well-being, but a collective chuckle stops me in my tracks. The older gentlemen who frequent Brokedown Tavern sit in their usual booth, watching the show. Though they don’t frequent the tavern at night, they’re here to support our recent win in the playoffs.

Stephen scoffs at them, but Ivan is just spritely enough to stir the pot. He stands and adjusts his suspenders before waddling over to the fight in the making.

“I would take the boys’ suggestion and make like a tree,” Ivan says. His older friends, all gray and white haired men with nothing better to do in their old age than sit around a tavern arguing about whose hip is worse off, surround him. Blimey, I think the old guy is about to throw a swing when Stephen laughs at him.

“Make like a tree?” he taunts.

Ivan chuckles. “Yes. Make like a tree and leave.” His friends laugh and slap their thighs, pointing at Stephen as if he’s the main attraction in a comedy. “The way I see it, you can sue everyone in this bar but it won’t get you far. My friend Aiden here only defended his girl. You’ve been the one causing trouble.”

Stephen ignores Ivan and grumbles. “Finchley, enough is enough. Let’s go.” He steps forward but Ivan moves between us.

“You go for that young lady and I can promise you’ll leave here in an ambulance headed for a full body cast. Go on, now. Go home while your body is still intact.”

Stephen takes in the room. There isn’t a man who’s not on his feet at this point. He has no chance of taking Finchley anywhere, so he growls again and storms out. The whole tavern relaxes with a sigh and Finchley’s forehead lands on my back. I turn around and let her fall into my arms.

“Let me take you home, Birdie,” I whisper. She nods against my chest, letting me envelop her in my embrace. It’s an attempt to disappear, to hide away from the friends who care about her. Friends she thinks are judging her, perhaps even laughing at her. “It’s all right, Birdie. Everything is going to be all right.”

“I’m mortified,” she whispers, barely holding back her tears.

Greer hands me Finchley’s bag and nods. “Evander will walk out with you to make sure that jerk isn’t waiting.”

I wink at my best friend’s sweet lass and take the bag. Evander flanks Finchley like a right proper bodyguard, and we head out. Once she is secure in the Mustang, I shut the door and turn to Evan. My heart still pounds but I know my friends have my back and Finchley’s.

I’m about to thank him when Finchley rolls the window down. “What about April? My gosh, I forgot all about her with everything.” Tears well in her eyes, guilt that she completely forgot about her cousin and best friend.

“It’s fine. We can give her a ride in a bit. Get her home and figure this out,” Evan says, reaching in for a hug.

I hug him and slap his back, grateful for good friends.

“Thanks. For everything.”

“It’s no problem. Good luck, Aiden.” I wait while he heads back inside and slip into the driver’s seat. Finchley rolls up the window, seemingly satisfied with Evan’s answer. Fortunately, April is laid back and understanding, a real go with the flow sort of woman. At least, she used to be, but my guess is that she still is after spending a little time with her.

I start the car and head out of the lot with so many things on my mind, not the least of which is how to keep Finchley safe and away from that jerk.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, huddled in the passenger seat.

“Do you want me to take you somewhere? My place?”

She shakes her head. “No, I want to go to mine, please. I’m so sorry about this.”

I’m disappointed she won’t come to my place to hide from the jerk, but I don’t push it. “You don’t have anything to be sorry about, love. Let me get you home, and we can figure this out. Together, all right?”

She nods but I have a feeling our troubles have only just begun.