Fourteen

After picking up the costume Gwen ordered for me at the costume shop and getting ready, I hop in my car and drive to Joel and Gwen's house. I'll need to take his rundown piece of junk to the party just to keep up the ruse.

I'm not looking forward to having to hang out with the team outside of the rink or having to drive his truck, but it is what it is. At least I'll have Gwen to talk to if things get awkward. She assured me we'd go just to make an appearance, then we could head out. I just hope there's no pressure to kiss for a picture or anything since PDA with her is super awkward.

Do not recommend trying to fake a marriage with your sister-in-law. Zero out of ten stars.

I step up to my brother's front door and ring the doorbell like a proper date, hoping Gwen's ready. But when Joel swings the door wide, face grim, I lose all hope that the evening will go as planned. "What's the matter?"

Joel waves me inside. "She's sick, man. Like puking her guts out sick."I hand him the bouquet of flowers I bought for her. "I'm sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do?"

He holds up the flowers with a quizzical expression. "Isn't this a little much? Trying to get my wife to like you more than she likes me?"

"Dude, she already does." At my smirk, he rolls his eyes, then rummages through his lower kitchen cabinets for a vase. I trail after him, unnerved by the sounds coming from the bathroom down the hall. "Uh, shouldn't you be in there with her? Like…holding her hair back or something?"

Joel straightens with a vase in hand before filling it with water. "Tried. She pushed me away, slammed the door in my face, and yelled that I did this to her."

I wince, then add, "Well, you kind of did."

"Not helping."

I slip into a chair at the bar and tap the countertop. "So, what should I do? Skip the party? Maybe you can text Archer and say Gwen's not feeling well—"

"No, you should go."

I blink at my brother, wondering if I heard him right. "Seriously? Because this seems like the perfect excuse not to go."

He finishes stuffing the flowers in the vase, then braces his hands on the counter between us. "Listen, the team doesn't know Gwen's pregnant. And the minute they catch wind of her being ill enough for me to stay behind and take care of her, they'll start with the dumb pregnancy jokes and insinuations. Which wouldn't be a big deal except—" He stops abruptly and bites down on his lower lip.

"Except what?"

After a quick shake of his head, he lowers his voice. "Gwen has miscarried. Twice."

Shock and a little bit of frustration that my brother never told me mingle together in my gut as I stare at him. "What? When?"

"Last year. Four months apart from each other."

My brow furrows as I process this information, clinging to the revelation that my brother and his wife endured this kind of pain alone. "Why didn't you tell me? I would've—"

"What, Jude? What could you have done?"

I bite my tongue, realizing he's right. There wouldn't have been anything I could've done except shoulder the load with them. "You and Gwen, Mom and Dad, and Kenz," I say, "you guys are all the most important people in my life. Enduring a miscarriage is massive, and I would've liked to be there for you both."

"I know." Joel drops his head, letting silence fill the air for a few moments before he meets my eyes again. "Gwen didn't want anyone to know. She felt…broken. She wasn't even going to tell anyone about this pregnancy until her second trimester, but obviously, plans changed. Anyway, now you know why we sought out fertility treatments."

I dip my chin in understanding when he continues. "So that's why I don't want her being the butt of some joke. We're keeping this quiet until she's ready to tell everyone." The look he gives me says I'd better not let the cat out of the bag.

"All right," I relent. "I'll go."

It feels weird showing up at Archer's house with a mask on, looking like some kind of Phantom of the Opera impersonator. And now I don't have Gwen to be my buffer. Concern for my sister-in-law winds my midsection into a knotted-up ball as I climb the steps to Archer's front door. At least I know Joel is there to care for her when she gets over her aversion to him.

I smile to myself as I rap three times on the door. Seconds later, it swings wide, and Ronnie, with a golden mask on her face, greets me. "Hey, Joely's here!" She lunges forward and wraps me in a hug while I try not to stiffen. I'm not a touchy-feely guy but my brother is, so I do what's necessary to play the part.

"Come in, come in," she says, dragging me inside by the collar of my cape that makes me look less like Batman and more like Dracula. "Everyone's already here." She halts, then spins toward me so fast I nearly bump into her. "Wait. Where's Gwen?"

"She's, uh, not feeling well tonight."

Ronnie's expression falls. "Aw, really? What's the matter?"

"Just a cold," I say with a tight smile. "She didn't want to pass any germs around to anyone."

"Aw, okay." Ronnie, seeming to accept the explanation I've given her, turns and leads me to the kitchen. "And here are some of the guys!"

Archer, Gray, Turner, Aiden, and Justice all stand around the kitchen, leaning against the counters with drinks in their hands. Thankfully, they're all wearing costumes similar to mine. If I had to be the only one wearing this getup, I might just turn and walk out without a word.

The guys murmur their greetings while Ronnie reaches up on her tiptoes and pecks Archer on the cheek before twirling out of the room. He stares after her like some sort of besotted lover, then lifts his chin to me.

"Hey, man. Where's Gwen?"

"Has a cold. Told me to come without her." Archer, never one for too many words, eyes me for a sec, then points with his glass bottle of seltzer water toward the fridge. "Drinks are in there, food's over there. Help yourself."

I pivot to see the kitchen table laden down with an assortment of snack foods, and my stomach begins to grumble. "Thanks." I do as he suggested and grab a plate, loading it down with food. What else is there to do here besides eat, anyway? I don't know these guys like Joel does, and even though they're nice enough and all pretty chill, I still try not to carry on long conversations with any of them.

Once my plate is full, I wander out of the kitchen, bypassing the guys' conversation about last night's game, and head into the living room. A couple of the guys and their wives or significant others are peppered around the space, some seated, some standing. Bridger and his social media guru girlfriend, Freya, see me, and she waves.

"Hey, Joel. Where's your better half?"

Apparently, I'm bound to get asked that a million times tonight. I hold back an exasperated sigh. "She wasn't feeling well but told me to come without her."

"Aw, no fun," Freya says with a frown. "That sounds like Gwen though. She's such a sweetheart."

I smile because Freya's right. My sister-in-law is a gem of a person, and I'll never understand how my annoying brother won her over.

"Well, tell her we missed her." Freya leans her head against Bridger's shoulder, then her expression brightens at whoever is behind me. "Oh, there you are! I was beginning to think you got lost."

"Sorry, just got a phone call," the distinct feminine voice says.

My shoulders tense, and I turn to see Chantelle wearing a black feathered mask and a dark red dress trimmed in black lace. The satin material glides over her curves in a way that seems effortless. Forcing my willful eyes away, I wonder how a dress that's hardly revealing and meant to be a costume could fit a woman so perfectly. I've seen plenty of women in revealing costumes on the ice, but never have I been so tempted to stare before. No doubt this image of Chantelle will be burned in my mind for days.

"Hey," she says in her husky voice that my mind tries to convince me sounds as breathless as I feel. "Fancy seeing you here, Joel." Her tone drips with venom when it lands on my name, and my eyes flick to hers, silently begging her to be cordial.

"I take it Gwen's here somewhere too?" She lifts an eyebrow before raising her gaze to the room around us.

"She's sick," Freya cuts in, oblivious to the tension between me and Chantelle.

Chantelle's eyes narrow on me. "Hm. Interesting."

Hardening my stare, I give her what I hope is an imperceptible shake of my head. If she wants to fight dirty tonight, fine. But she'd better be prepared for me to retaliate should she get the notion to blow this thing up.

"And where's your date, Chantelle?" I run a thumb over my jaw, pretending to forget his name. "Jones, right? Seems like a real stand-up guy, cornering you in the team hallway and all."

Her hazel eyes flash with irritation as her lips screw to one side. "Can I speak with you a moment? Outside?"

She stalks off toward the front door, leaving me on my own with the awkwardness her micro-outburst left behind. I shrug and try to play it off. "What's with her?"

Freya's eyes widen as she shakes her head. "I don't know. But you probably upset her with the ex comment. It's a pretty sore subject. And also why she refuses to date another hockey player."

My heart twists at the thought that a jerk like Jones might've hurt Chantelle so bad she swore off all hockey players. Why did I bring him up, anyway? And why does being around her bring all my worst qualities to the surface? She brings out a ruthless side of me, one that's too quick to spark my jealousy and anger.

"Guess I better go apologize." I set my plate of food down onto the nearest side table and follow after her, praying I'm not making a mistake.