Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

I t’s post practice when my brother’s mate Alexi Bandnin approaches me.

“Come to dinner at our place,” he says. It doesn’t seem like a question, more like a command.

I’m slowly thinking of an excuse as Ethan comes by and bumps me on the shoulder. “You still able to help me with that video tonight?” he asks.

Bless this fucking Beta.

Having friends isn’t so bad.

“That’s right. Shit, sorry, Alexi, another time?” I say.

“Hmm,” the big Russian mumbles. “What videos does Finnegan the Fox need the goalie’s help with?”

Couldn’t just leave it alone? Could we?

“You’re avoiding your brother,” the over-perceptive Alpha says.

“Isn’t it enough that he bosses me around all day at work? I’m not sure I can sit at your dinner table again while you and Piper try to make small talk between the two of us. The only things we have in common are hockey and our overbearing mother.”

“Lori is the best,” Alexi says lovingly.

I’m sure he would think so, considering the woman coddles my brother like he won’t survive without her. At least she will be staying at their house when she comes to visit.

“Max said he would help me shoot some stunt videos,” Ethan lies.

Alexi clicks his tongue before wagging his finger at Ethan before tapping the Beta’s forehead. “Bad lying fox,” he says before walking away and thankfully dropping the invitation.

“I just lied to Alexi-fucking-Bandnin for you, so you owe me,” he says.

“I sure do,” I sigh.

“Your brother doesn’t seem that bad.” Ethan responds.

“It’s not that he’s bad, it’s just… I go over to his house, see his amazing pack, their fucking pictures winning the Stanley Cup, and how much better my brother is doing than me. It’s pathetic.”

“Nah, I think that’s just what having a sibling is like,” Ethan says, and I thankfully feel like less of an asshole.

“Really?”

“My foster siblings and I could get really competitive, and that was over dumb shit. I can’t imagine what this feels like. I’m not judging you.”

I sigh and rub my hand through my hair.

“Do you have any plans tonight?” I ask, not wanting to go home alone.

“Sloane’s busy,” he says.

“Didn’t ask about Sloane, mascot. Asked about you.”

He clicks his tongue, and a wide smile takes over his face.

“Let’s go, goalie,” he says, and I wonder what the fuck I just set myself up for.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” I say as Ethan takes one side of the couch and I take the other.

“You’re the one who needed an alibi to get away from your brother-in-law,” he says as we both take a breath and lift the heavy beige loveseat that’s kind of a piece of shit.

“First off. It’s my brother that I’m avoiding. Second off, where in the fuck are we taking this?” I ask as I go up the first set of stairs and he carries the bottom.

“My dad—foster dad—he doesn’t really leave his place anymore. His current couch should be condemned. This one was on Marketplace for eighty bucks. So I figured I’d grab it for him and get that other piece of shit out of his place.”

“No other foster siblings to help out?”

“No massive Alpha ones. Most of them are younger. Only Kimmy and Marisol still live in town.”

“How many foster siblings do you have?” I ask as I heft the motherfucker around the bend to go up the second section of stairs.

“Who knows? Dave took in so many kids back in the day. Some stayed a few days, weeks, or months. Then there’s kids like me who never left.”

“You like your old man?”

“Yeah,” Ethan says simply. “What about you?”

“My stepdad is cool. Mom’s overbearing. Brother hated me until recently,” I say with a shrug.

“Family shit is always complicated.”

“I know that’s fucking right. Christ, what floor does he live on?”

“Third,” he huffs out as I continue up the stairs, both of us exerting our strength to get this piece of shit up the stairs.

Ethan takes out a key and unlocks the door.

“Hey, Dad,” Ethan says as an old man with an oxygen tank turns off the TV and glances at the two of us.

“The fuck you got there?” his dad asks.

“You can’t sleep on that shitty couch anymore. I got you a new one,” Ethan says as we put the couch down.

The older man grabs his walker and takes a moment to stand, his oxygen tank trailing behind him.

“Looks nice, thanks, kid. Who’s this?” he asks, tilting his head to observe me. His eyes are milky, and most of his hair is gone. He’s clearly not doing so great.

“Max. He’s the goalie for the Foxes.”

A smile takes over the old man’s face.

“See. What did I tell you? As soon as they got to know you, they’d love you.”

“Dad,” Ethan hisses.

“What? Bunch of stuck-up Alpha assholes. No offense,” he says, glancing back at me.

“None taken,” I reply. The old man isn’t too far off. Until he introduced himself and there was a reason for me to know Ethan, I basically ignored him.

I feel guilty thinking about it. Ethan isn’t someone who should ever be ignored. He’s probably one of the most genuine people I’ve ever met.

“He’s a great fucking mascot and a good man. That team is lucky to have him,” he scolds, and I hold up my hands in compliance.

“I’m with ya, man.”

“Sorry. It’s just, he’s my boy.”

Ethan looks proud and embarrassed at the same time.

“Move that piece of shit out of here. I’ll make you boys lobster rolls,” he says, waving a hand and shifting his feet to make his way to the kitchen.

“At least this couch seems smaller,” I say as Ethan and I carry the couch down the stairs. It’s basically wood and upholstery with hardly any fill left in the cushions.

We place the couch by the community dumpster, and Ethan lets out a breath.

“If you don’t want to stay for dinner, it’s cool,” he says.

“And miss lobster rolls? Free lobster rolls? Good try, mascot,” I say, shoving his shoulder, and he smiles at me. “Your dad seems like a good guy.”

“Pretty sure I would have ended up dead without him,” Ethan says, and I glance over at him.

“How old were you when you came to live with Dave?”

“Fourteen, and the shit I was doing before I came to live with him was fucking reckless. He owned the diner, and his friend Craig owned the old gymnasium. When I wasn’t in school, I was either at Craig’s gym or working at Dave’s. It kept me out of trouble. I owe him everything for it.”

I wrap my arm around his shoulder and tug him close. He doesn’t shove me off, and I find I like being near him like this.

He’s your friend, Max.

You’re not looking for anything besides friendship, remember?

I drop my arm and pat his back.

“Let’s go get some lobster rolls, huh?” I ask, and he nods his head as we take the three stories back to his foster dad’s apartment.

I’ve been nervous about this game since the start of the season. Playing against my former team isn’t ideal. Not that I harbor any ill will. To be honest, I miss a lot of guys on the Sharks. But it’s just this weird place of having a connection with your old team and your new team.

I can’t let the Foxes down. I can’t let myself down.

Lingering feelings of not being good enough plague me, and I’m trying to shove them down.

I’m mostly dressed as my attention is averted, Sloane standing in front of me. She’s wearing high-waisted, plaid pants with a black shirt and a belt. It makes her look taller than she actually is. She gives me a warm smile.

“Hey, Max.”

“Hey, Sloane,” I say, feeling a little out of it. My mental space is just clogged with all these feelings I can’t really talk to anybody about.

“It’s a big game for you. I thought maybe I could post some clips highlighting you tonight, if that’s okay.”

“Whatever you think is best,” I say, and her brows furrow, and she takes a step closer to me.

Still no scent.

“Is everything okay? Are you nervous for tonight?” she asks.

“Yeah, just pregame jitters. It’ll all be fine.”

She taps the top of my head three times like I’m a good dog.

“You’re going to crush it. I’ll be watching and recording all your cute little goalie stretches and saves. You got this.”

She lightly punches my shoulder, shaking out her hand afterwards. I grab her hand and inspect it.

“No more doing that shit,” I say, making sure she didn’t hurt her knuckles.

She clears her throat. “Okay. Have a great game,” she says, walking away.

As she leaves, she records a few of the guys and says hello. Everyone seems extremely cautious of Sloane, making sure to be respectful and not cross any lines. That is, everyone minus Nilsen.

Who is currently staring at her like a hawk. The moment she leaves the room, his gaze snaps to me.

Just what I need, this asshole starting some shit right before the game.

He makes his way over to me in a few strides and grabs a fistful of my jersey.

“You don’t fucking touch Sloane.”

“I only touched her because she smacked my pads. She’s my friend. What’s your fucking problem with me, Nilsen?”

He laughs sardonically. “You really don’t remember? Figures.” He drops my jersey with disgust. “You stay the fuck away from her,” he says, pointing down at me.

Mikael Martel strolls along with a sigh, clearly used to dealing with Nilsen.

“Who are we staying away from?” Martel asks.

“Sloane,” Nilsen says, staring daggers at me.

“Oh yeah, Nilsen all but pissed a big mean circle around the coach’s daughter last year, Connery,” Martel says.

“I didn’t piss on anything,” Nilsen counters.

“It’s a figure of speech. Literally everyone on the team watches this big asshole pine after her. Not that he’d ever do anything about it. Right, Nilsen?”

The large defensemen shrugs, not confirming or denying.

“God, this season is going to be something, isn’t it?” Martel says.

“Just tell this asshole to cool it. He’s gone out of his way to start some shit with me. I’m supposed to be his goalie. We’re supposed to be a team. Sloane is my friend, and I don’t know why he hates me, but it has to stop.”

“Gotta say, I kind of agree with him,” Martel says, taking my side.

Nilsen finally breaks his glare to grimace at Martel. “He won’t last past the season anyway,” Nilsen says, waving me off like I’m trash.

Martel whistles as Nilsen walks away before glancing back at me.

“Christ, Connery, what the fuck did you do to him? I mean, don’t get me wrong, Bram’s an asshole on a good day. But the only person I’ve ever seen him hate this much is his cousin.” Martel taps on his chin. “You know what? I don’t think any of us know that story either.”

“I’ve tried to make peace with him. I don’t even know what I did.”

“Well, I’d tell you to stay away from Sloane, but if she’s set on being your friend, you’re kind of fucked in that department.”

I glance up at him, and he shrugs his shoulders.

“She hangs out with my Omega, Charlotte, sometimes. I thought Charlotte was an intense Omega, but she doesn’t have shit on Sloane. I don’t think I’ve ever met an Omega so assured or okay with her designation. Coach has his hands fucking full.”

“We’re just friends,” I reply, and Martel laughs.

“Yeah, and I never wanted an Omega,” he says, walking away. I have no clue what the significance is, but I let it roll off my back as I hit the ice and pray I don’t fuck this game up.