Page 55 of Shattered On Ice

“Put yourself in my shoes. What would you have done?” I snap, my voice rising with my agitation as he palms the back of my helmet and smushes my face into the glass. This fucker.

“I wouldn't have fucked my best friend's brother,” he spits. “But it’s so much worse than that, man. You didn't trust me enough to tell me your secret. Fuck you for thinking I was some homophobic asshole or something!”

“Dumont! Stephens!” Coach Kennedy roars, skating toward the boards where Rook and I are still tangled together, our violent puck battle abandoned. Coach’s face is closing in on a dangerous shade of red he usually reserves for penalties made on our team. “I want you both off my ice. Take it to the locker room and don't come out until you remember you're wearing the same fucking jersey.”

Rook shoves his gloves hard into my chest, knocking my stick out of my hands, and skates off without a word.

“I’d expect this from Stephens and LeRoux, but not you, Dumont,” Coach says, concern lacing his tone. “What’s going on?”

“Sorry, Coach. Just dealing with some things,” I explain as I pick up my stick from the ice.

Coach waves me off. “I don't want to hear it. Just get your shit together and remember you're on the same team, or I’ll ban you from practice to get it through your head.”

I take a deep breath and follow Rook through the tunnel, entering the suffocating quiet of the empty locker room.

Rook doesn't even make it to his stall before he chucks his stick inside, the clatter breaking the silence. He rips his helmet off, chest heaving under the black practice jersey, his green eyes smoldering with a mixture of betrayal and exhaustion.

“Two seasons, Westy,” he starts, anger simmering in the still room. “Two seasons of road trips, playing on the same line, watching your stupid movies, and telling each other everything.” He scoffs. “Well, I told you everything, but you were holding onto the biggest secret you could keep from me because you thought I was some meathead who couldn't handle it.”

Heat flushes through me as my hands roll into fists. He’s got it all wrong.

Monty’s voice echoes in my head again. Just take it. I swallow down my anger and pride. I can't raise my voice. I can't get defensive. I have to stand here and let him strip me down to get it all out. I slowly uncurl my fingers.

“I’ve never thought you were a meathead, Rook. I’ve always known exactly who you are,” I say, taking it down a notch. “But you're right. I lied to you. And I’m so fucking sorry for hurting you.”

My lack of resistance and changing tactics throws him. He expects a fight, not my surrender. Rook runs a shaking hand through his damp hair, pieces sticking up every which way, and a bitter scoff escapes his throat. “So why the fuck did you have to pick my brother and hide it all from me? You didn't trust me with any of it.”

“It wasn't about not trusting you,” I say, voice steady despite my heart beating against my ribs like it wants to break free. “It was about Benoit.”

Rook’s brow furrows in confusion. “The Montreal captain you laid out on Veterans’ Night?”

“The guy who put me in the hospital when we played juniors together,” I correct him. I sit heavily on the wooden bench, staring at the rubber mats covering the floor.

“What the fuck, Westy?” Rooks says, completely thrown.

“We won the championships. I took my very secret boyfriend, Jean Luc, back to the locker room because I just wanted to celebrate by kissing him where no one could see us. Benoit and his friends walked in on us. They beat the shit out of me, Rook. It was so bad. I was so scared I wouldn't make it,” I admit quietly. “They broke my ribs and my jaw.”

I glance up, meeting Rook’s horrified face. He’s a defenseman. His entire life on the ice is dedicated to protecting his teammates, and his instincts run deeper than hockey. He’s locked in on my story, wanting to rewrite the past to protect me.

“Benoit stood over me while I was bleeding on the ground,” I whisper, chest strained with the memory, my hands tightly clasped in my lap. “He told me if I ever came out and shit on the sport he loved, he’d destroy whoever I touched. He promised to do to them what he did to me.” I look up and force myself to hold his gaze. “I didn’t keep you in the dark because I didn't trust you. I did it because I was terrified of what would happen if I told anyone.”

“Fucking hell, Westy,” Rook exhales. He drops heavily onto the bench next to me, our fight forgotten, but a new one just beginning. His jaw clenches, a vicious, protective rage filling his eyes. “I would have killed him. If I had known, I would have ended his career myself.”

I nod. “I know. That’s why I couldn't tell you.”

Rook stares at the floor for several minutes. The heavy, oppressive tension in the room dissipates, giving way to the foundation of our brotherhood. There’s still something chewing at him, the frustration bubbling under the surface.

“I’m such a fucking idiot,” Rook groans, burying his face in his hands. “I practically dragged you to Knight’s office and threw you on his couch when you were already hiding shit behind my back. I played right into the joke.”

“It wasn't a joke,” I say, putting a hand on his shoulder. “And you weren't an idiot. You were right.”

Rooks drops his hands and turns to me with a skeptical look.

Fuck, do I have to go through this again? Well, he deserves to know everything. “I was drowning,” I admit. “I knew with one failed practice that I would lose my career to the yips if I couldn't get it under control, and you saw it. You knew I was broken before I did, and your instincts knew exactly how you could fix me. So you weren't an idiot. You saved my fucking life, man.”

Rook rocks back, the emotional validation catching him off guard. “But what about Knight? Wasn't that just another excuse to fuck behind my back?”

“He ended the physical relationship the minute you pushed for him to be my therapist. Things changed as soon as I walked through his office door,” I explain. “He chose to treat me. To save my career, and it’s breaking his heart just as much as it’s breaking mine. Without realizing it, you forced him to choose between being my lover and saving my life. I don't think it was even a choice for him. And you did the right thing, Rook. Even if it hurts like fucking hell right now.”