Page 87 of Game Misconduct

thirty-three

. . .

Bex

It feels weird to watch my brother play and not wear his number. But now that I’m a Grizzlies staff member, I can’t in good conscience wear another team’s jersey. And now that I’m dating Nick, it feels wrong to wear another man’s number. Even if it is my brother.

I don’t know what I’m going to do for the game tonight. I’m off duty—Annaliese is the home concussion spotter—but I still want to watch the game. Want to cheer on my brother… and my boyfriend.

Life would be so much easier if they played on the same team. Their tentative truce probably wouldn’t survive it, though. My brother’s a bit of an asshole, and I’ve seen Nick dish it back just as hard. Just because I disliked him didn’t mean I wasn’t paying attention.

They haven’t fought on the ice in a few years, but they still aren’t besties. I don’t know that they ever will be. There’s too much history, too many hurt feelings.

But maybe one day, they’ll be able to put aside their resentment. They both love me. They both love Elsy. That’s what’s important.

I’m getting a head start on my daily paperwork when Wyatt knocks on my open office door, letting out a low whistle.

“Look at these digs.”

I can’t hide my grin. “Nice, isn’t it?”

He crosses the small room and slouches in the chair opposite my desk. “Shit, B. I’m so proud of you.”

The praise lights me up like fireworks, dopamine flooding my brain. It’s amazing how such an innocent statement can have me flying high for days.

“Thanks, Wy.”

Of course, the same is also true in reverse; an innocent statement can have me in the depths of despair for days, too. Sometimes weeks. My brain grabs hold of the words and doesn’t let go, clinging so tightly that they become my truth no matter how factual they are.

“So… we should talk.”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing now?”

My brother pulls off his hat, runs his hand through his hair, and replaces the cap.

“I’m concerned,” he finally says.

A wave of hurt rushes through me. We had a great dinner last night, or so I thought. For him to waltz in here, not twelve hours later, and pull this bullshit…

No, I’m not hurt. I’m angry. Heat floods through me, my face burning hot.

“About me and Nick?”

Why couldn’t he have said his piece last night? Why’d he have to blindside me like this?

But Wyatt shakes his head. “Nah. You said you’re happy, and I believe you.” He sighs, sagging in his seat. “Mom, though…”

A shiver runs down my spine. Sitting up straight, I square my shoulders. “What about her?”

I hate, hate, hate the current of tension that cycles through me. That my stomach drops, and my hands shake. That the simple mention of the woman who birthed me, who raised me, who’s supposed to love me, makes me so fucking agitated I can’t stand it.

And then my brother goes and opens his mouth. “Why are you letting that stupid cow ruin everything for you?”

“She’s not a stupid cow,” I protest. “She means well. She just…”

“She’s mean and vindictive, and she doesn’t care if she’s hurting your feelings,” he snaps.

The need to defend her bubbles up within me. I know she’s not necessarily a nice person, but that doesn’t mean he needs to call her names.