Chapter 24

CHAPTER 24

Van

I manage to duck in and out of Coach's office when his back is turned—he's in the hallway outside the locker room talking with Ken, our offensive coach, and Winston, our head trainer. A risky move on my part, but necessary.

Hopefully, Coach won't see what I left until later. Much later.

As I head back into the locker room, I see Parker waiting inside. She doesn't frequent this area—too much danger of hearing or seeing something that might scar her delicate sensibilities, as she likes to say.

What she really means is she wants to avoid seeing Dumbo's hairy naked butt. Again. The screams that day were probably heard in Delaware.

When Parker turns toward me, her grin says I'm the one she's looking for. Great.

I groan, hoping it's quiet enough that Parker doesn't hear. Because yesterday when she came looking for me, it was to stick me in a room with Alec, Eli, and Amelia.

Which ended with a kiss that was amazing until it wasn't, me leaving the Dream Team text thread, and a whole lot of suspicious looks today. Alec keeps trying to captain me, and I keep avoiding him.

"Van—this is Melinda. She's here to interview you."

Only then do I notice a woman next to Parker with a matching, huge smile.

I scratch the back of my neck. "We've got practice in a bit."

"That's okay," Parker says. "She'll be here all day. We'll do part of it now, while you're getting ready. More later. Okay?"

Glancing around the room, I notice how quiet all the guys are, like if they don't draw attention to themselves, Parker won't ask anything of them. Not one of them wants to volunteer as tribute. The only one not ignoring me is Dominik who, of course, is glaring.

"Have you thought about Alec?" I ask. "He loves being interviewed and I?—"

"Nope. Today, it's you." Parker's tone is edged with something sharp, assuring me that any argument is futile.

"Okay, Boss," I say with a sigh, dropping down to my bench. I don't miss the way a few guys smirk.

Parker appears with a padded folding chair with the Appies logo and sets it in front of me, giving barely enough room for me to lace up my skates. The very last thing I want right now is someone asking questions.

I've kept my mouth shut for two weeks, and I'm hanging by a thread here.

Even my sisters don't know the full story. All I told them was Amelia ghosted me. Probably even that much info was a bad idea considering the fact that all three of them have an ironclad sense of loyalty. And a penchant for revenge. I think it's their way of returning the favor for the way I looked out for them. Thankfully, only a few women have ever lasted long enough or done something bad enough to warrant my sisters' attention.

"So, Van," the woman says. "Should I call you Van?"

"Sure."

"But your real name is Robbie—any other nicknames?"

A few guys cough out, Vanity . There are chuckles around the room, and even Parker giggles.

"None I want in print," I say.

Normally, I would have added something flirtatious. A wink. A roguish grin. I know how to work my charm in interviews. Especially with female writers. But I'm just … not in the mood. I'd like to get this over with, not spill the secret I'm holding so tightly, and get on the ice where I can hopefully suck less than yesterday.

At least ten percent less. Low but realistic goals—that's me.

"Interesting," the woman says. I already forgot her name. "I heard rumors of a nickname involving … a bunny?"

My head snaps up, and I narrow my eyes at the woman who's sitting too close. I don't love the expression on her face. It's the look of a woman who's hoping for some private follow-up time. Off-the-record time. And the question she asked … there are very few possible sources for that nickname.

When I glance at Parker, she's got her arms crossed, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Based on her expression, she also noticed the woman's intent and is torn between being protective of me and finding out the bunny nickname.

The only people who know the godawful nickname my sisters gave me are … my sisters.

And Mills.

I start to sweat.

"No comment," I say, looking back down at my skates. "Next question."

The atmosphere in the room is charged. The rest of the guys are clearly almost ready to get on the ice, but they're lingering. Listening. I watch Tucker pick up and put down his skate three times, doing a horrible job pretending to examine the laces.

"You've got quite the reputation as a charmer," the woman says, and there are a few snorts around the room. "Are you currently single?"

Though this is a common question, one I should be prepared for, it knocks into me with force today. I suck in a breath, squeezing my eyes closed.

For a moment, all I can see is Amelia's eyes. Her smile. The wild abandon on her face when she stepped off the platform while zip-lining. The look on her face just before I kissed her yesterday.

And then the look of apology when she told me we can't keep doing this. Why was I even surprised? I'm the guy you kiss. Not the guy you marry.

I stand. "I'm not dating anyone."

Not a lie. But I bet no one in this room would guess the real truth.

I'm not dating anyone because I'm married .

"Are you looking?"

"No." My voice is clipped. "I need to focus on the playoffs right now."

"And on not sucking!" Tucker coughs out this answer, not very subtly either, and I want nothing more than to get out of the locker room and onto the ice.

"I know some guys find that blowing off a little, uh, steam actually helps their performance and their focus," the woman says.

What kind of interview is this? Pointedly ignoring the woman, I tilt my head, giving Parker a look.

She looks stunned and mildly horrified. "Okay!" she says brightly, grabbing the woman's arm. "We've got to let these guys get on the ice. Thanks, Van. Melinda, we'll find a good spot to watch, then continue the interview later. Or another interview with another player."

"I'm free!" Tucker says, raising a hand with a big, stupid grin on his face.

Parker ushers the woman from the locker room like it's on fire. I keep my head down until they're both gone. Then I sink down on the bench, letting my head fall back.

Something smacks me in the side of the face. "That better not be a dirty sock," I say without opening my eyes.

"Dude," Alec says. "Explain. First, you were weird with Amelia yesterday. Then you left the group chat. And now?—"

"What group chat?" Dumbo interrupts. "I'm not in a group chat."

I finally open my eyes and yup—someone did throw a dirty sock. I hate these guys sometimes just as much as I love them. I toss it toward the center of the room, and it lands on the Appies logo. No one claims it.

"No," Logan says, ignoring Dumbo. "First he started skating like he has three left feet. Which was about how long ago?"

"Right after you started," Alec says.

"It hasn't been that long," I mutter. But it has been. I know exactly when my performance on the ice started to decline. And it was when Coach handed out Save the Date cards for Amelia's wedding. Thankfully, the guys probably don't remember that detail.

"And now," Alec says, "you didn't do your usual thing with that reporter."

"What's my usual thing?"

This question is met with laughter, and my frustration builds. I want to go home. Not out to practice, where I'll still suck and maybe be dealing with Coach after he goes in his office and sees what I left on his desk. I won't have to hear it from Alec and the guys about my three left feet and inability to make a shot.

I don't want to go out with the guys. I don't want to be interviewed.

But most especially, I don't want to be in a building where I might just happen to run into my wife.

"Your usual thing," Logan says with a smirk. "Would include flirting. Winking. Possibly hitting on and or asking out."

"She didn't just open the door," Eli says, standing up. "She was waving you in for landing."

He does his best impression of a guy standing on an airfield with flares, directing a plane.

I roll my eyes. "Yeah. She wasn't subtle."

"And usually, neither are you," Alec says. "So, what gives?"

"Nothing," I say.

"That wasn't nothing."

"You've lost your game—on and off the ice."

"I never thought I'd see the day. Van not hitting on a hot woman."

"Think she'll want to interview me later?"

"Keep dreaming."

"I know you told her you're not dating anyone," Alec says, cutting through the chatter, "but you have to be."

"He does have that look," Felix says, and I don't like the way our goaltender watches me.

"I don't have a look."

"He does," Logan says, then shrugs when I glare. "You do."

"It's the look of a man who's in love."

That's Nathan, and I'd like to knock the smug, knowing expression off his face. Even if the defender is the last guy in this room I'd want to tangle with.

He's also usually the last guy to speak up. But he just got together with Summer and probably has love on the brain.

He also isn't wrong, and I'm doing my best not to squirm. Not to reveal just how close they all are.

Because I'm close to breaking.

"Please," Alec says, tugging at his hair like he's about to tear it all out from the roots. "Please tell us it's not Amelia."

"It has to be," Eli says.

"It really, really shouldn't be," Felix says.

Alec steps forward. "Say it. Say it to our faces. Tell us you don't have a thing for the coach's daughter."

Do not react. Do not react.

I roll my eyes and chuckle darkly. "You think I'm stupid enough to mess around with her?"

My wording is careful. I'm proud of myself. See? I didn't reveal a thing. Not my face. Not my words.

But … the guys smell blood in the water.

"We're not talking about messing around," Logan says. "This is different. You're different."

"You know how much trouble you could be in?" Alec asks with a frown. All of his teasing is gone. "How much trouble we would all be in?"

"Dude, everyone knows not to go there," Tucker says.

Dumbo adds, "Even if Coach hadn't warned us all a thousand times. It's just hockey logic."

"Never ever ever date the coach's daughter," Eli says. "Like … ever." He's serious for the first part, and then channels Taylor Swift.

"Relax." I'm speaking to myself as much as the guys. "I'm not dating Mills. I mean, Amelia," I quickly amend, but my correction doesn't help.

Nathan drops his head into his hands with a groan.

Alec just stares.

Logan looks mildly impressed and also horrified at the same time. "You're at the nickname stage?"

And Dominik? He catches my eye and smiles.

Panic sets in. I stand up. "Look—it wasn't like that."

These words are an admission. I realize this belatedly. I thought the guys were shocked before, but Tucker actually falls over with a gasp. Eli helps pick him up.

"Van," Alec says, shaking his head, my name sounding like a curse.

"Did you actually, like, make a move?" Eli blinks at me, like he's in shock. "Like, you kissed her but that's it. Or there was some flirtation or an attraction, but you didn't act on it?"

Eli asks this last part hopefully, and whatever expression is now on my face quickly eviscerates that hope.

"I wonder what Coach will think," Dominik says. He's got a smug grin on his face. "Though I guess Amelia's hot. Good for a night, though I'm not sure she's worth the trouble."

Rage descends over me like a red haze.

I'm across the room in a second, his jersey in my fist and my face inches from his.

"Don't you talk about her! Don't say her name! Don't you even think about her!"

There's shouting and a bunch of hands on me, yanking me back and away from Dominik who's laughing now. Because I've given him exactly what he wants. I know it.

But I couldn't stop myself.

He's lucky all I did was grab him.

"I get it. Like the lady said, everyone needs to blow off steam. Find an easy hook-up."

"Amelia is not some hook-up! She's everything . She's my wife ."

Dead silence in the locker room. The hands tugging me back go still. Even Dominik trades in his hard stare for a gaping look of shock.

"Robert Van de Kamp!"

Coach's bellow hits the room like a sudden, icy freeze.

Hands drop away from me, and the guys who were surrounding me step back, leaving me standing in the middle of the room, facing Coach. Alone.

Thanks for the support, guys. Really.

Did he hear me? I didn't think he did, but he must have. Or Amelia told him. Either way, the mountain lion is out of the bag.

"Coach, I can explain?—"

"What is this? "

I stop as he waves a paper in my face. Not just a paper—a note. The one I left in his office not twenty minutes ago.

It takes my brain a second.

He doesn't know about Amelia.

Yet.

"Answer me." His voice is deadly quiet. A low hiss as he shoves the note at me.

I take it, glancing down at the words I wrote last night. Took me twenty attempts, but what I landed on was, It's not right for me to have the position. Not like this. I didn't earn it. Let Dominik have it. Switch us back.

Short. To the point. Not enough detail to be incriminating about the deal Coach promised me in exchange for watching over Amelia.

I crumple the note in my hand. "I meant what I said. Give Dominik the center position. I don't deserve it."

I don't dare look away from Coach, but I can tell even from my peripheral vision that the guys are trying to follow this conversation with no small amount of confusion. They, like me, were obviously expecting this to be about what I just told them: the fact that I married his daughter.

Now, we're discussing a whole other thing, which isn't as surprising, but probably isn't expected either.

What guy wants to give up his spot on the line? Especially for someone like Dominik?

Coach's jaw works. He takes off his hat and runs a hand over his bald head, like he's winding up, trying to find the right words before he really goes off.

I know he won't want to admit he made a deal with me for a position. That's … unethical at best. With everything else that's happened to him in the last few weeks, he doesn't need to lose respect from the guys or come under fire officially.

"Are you trying to tell me how to run my team?" he demands.

"No, I?—"

"Are you questioning my decisions? My leadership? Are you coming for my job? You think you could do it better than me?"

"No, sir."

He and I stare at each other.

No one can move, like we're all frozen in this room—the guys staring between us while Coach and I are locked in a staring match that feels deadly.

My father-in-law , I remember. I'm having it out right now with my coach … but also my father-in-law.

I blink and drop my gaze first. I'm about to apologize when a

frantic knocking at the door breaks the tension.

"Um, hey—woman or women entering," Parker calls through a crack in the door. "Kind of an emergency."

The door swings open. I do a double take.

Parker walks in with Amelia, who has a pinched expression on her face, avoiding looking at either me or her father.

The two of them are followed by … my sisters?

I'm too stunned to speak. Callie, Alex, and Grey look positively murderous.

Well—Callie and Lex do, and the sentiment is aimed right at Amelia. Grey's glare turns to a grin, and she waves at me like it is totally normal that they just busted into my locker room.

Normally, I'd already be hugging them. But nothing about this situation is close to normal . We're in Twilight Zone territory.

I swallow hard, glancing over at Mills. Her wide brown eyes meet mine and for just a fraction of a second, it feels like we're back in Florida, exchanging glances and understanding.

Like it's us against the world. Like there is an us.

She looks unsettled. Panicked, even. I'm not sure if it's because of my sisters—I'm still confused as to how or why they're here—or the clearly uncomfortable scene Amelia just walked in on.

My body sways, like she has created a full-body magnetic current, tugging me toward her. Her panic has activated an auto response in me. The need to protect her is almost primal.

Then I remember how she left. What it felt like to wake up alone, to read her note and know she was already on a plane. I remember how she kissed me yesterday, then told me we couldn't keep doing this.

I force myself to turn away.

"Parker," Coach barks, though I can tell he's trying to soften his tone. "Now really isn't the time."

"Right … it does look like a bad time." Parker's eyes bounce around the room, like she's just now realizing whatever tension she brought with her, we already had it in spades. "It's just—I need to see Van."

"Get in line," Alec mutters, and Coach shoots a look at our captain that shuts him right up.

"We're about to start practice," Coach says. "And Van"—he practically spits out my name and turns to glare at me—"isn't in a position to talk to anyone right now. Not after what he pulled."

Amelia sucks in a breath, and immediately, I know she misunderstood Coach's words.

But before I can say anything, she steps forward.

"It's my fault, Daddy. Or, at least, it's both of our faults."

Coach snorts. "I highly doubt that."

"Mills," I start, but she shakes her head and keeps walking toward Coach with a look like, I've got this.

"If you're going to be mad at him," she says, her voice pitching higher as she lifts her chin, "you need to be mad at me. I'm the one who said we should get married."

There is a beat of silence in which Coach frowns, blinking at Amelia.

Then, he says, "Did you say married ?"

Amelia shrinks a little. "Isn't that why you're mad—because Van and I got married in Florida?"

The guys heard me say it, but I'm not sure they believed it until this moment.

Coach's face turns red first. Then, it turns an alarming shade of eggplant. It reminds me of nature shows I sometimes watch. Animals often have biological warning signs, like the way poison dart frogs are brightly colored as a way to say, Don't eat me! Run away!

The color on Coach's face is a very clear sign that anyone around him should probably run. Fast.

But no one moves.

Amelia glances at me, and I give my head a little shake. I can see the moment she realizes what happened.

That's right, Mills—you just dropped the bomb on your dad.

She takes a tiny step back. "I, um …"

"You …" Coach sputters. "You got married? To him? " He jabs a finger in my general direction, but his gaze remains on Amelia, vacillating between anger and something worse— hurt .

It's the same expression I see when I hazard a glance at my sisters. Callie's jaw is clenched tight. Lex is already blinking back tears, and Greyson looks like she's about to pass out.

All I told them was that Amelia left me. And why she left.

They called me stupid. They called her … some other things. Family will always take your side.

But now that they know what I failed to tell them—well. I'm not sure they're on my side anymore.

Amelia doesn't answer her father. She doesn't need to. Her face—and I'm sure mine if he ever looked at me—confirms it.

It's Parker who speaks next, clearly trying to cut through the tension. "Well, it looks like we've got a lot going on here." She grabs Amelia's arm and starts maneuvering her toward the door. "What I needed to say can probably wait?—"

Coach ignores Parker and steps toward Amelia.

"Of all the things you could have done," he starts, and for a moment I set aside the fact that he's my coach. I see the hurt on Amelia's face, and I step between them. "Of all the thoughtless choices."

Amelia flinches.

"Hey," I say, then stop because I have zero plan here. But I don't like the tone he's using with Amelia, and I shift closer. Not quite touching her but apparently too close for Coach.

His eyes blaze. I remember seeing his fury when he found out about Douche the Groom cheating with his niece. That was bad.

This is … worse.

"Daddy—" she starts.

But she doesn't get to finish. Because my sisters rush us both, Callie and Lex clearly torn between yelling at Amelia and yelling at me, and Grey like she's trying to hug her—just as Dominik's laughter rings out and Coach's fist flies toward my face.