I’m not sure what makes me turn away from the road leading to the Hockey House. Possibly the weight of our Harvard loss, or the desire to avoid my fellow teammates’ frustrations and sorrows.
But either way, I find myself pulling into my parents’ driveway thirty minutes after the bus dropped us at the arena.
My heart squeezes lightly, the weight of the team’s loss lifting from my shoulders at just the knowledge that she’s here.
When I come in through the garage, I hear cackling laughter of kids in the distance—Liam and Oliver.
In the living room, however, I only find Adam Reiner and Sadie’s brothers playing Xbox—but no sign of Sadie or my parents.
Just as I open my mouth to ask, a figure descends the stairs and turns for the front door. A tall figure I recognize.
“Kane,” I belt out.
My shout gathers the attention of the boys, Liam yelling for my attention immediately. Oliver looks apprehensively at the other, very large hockey player in the foyer.
“Talk to your girlfriend, Koteskiy. Not me,” he says, but he doesn’t move.
My heart rate skyrockets and fear wars with my anger—no matter how irrational, as I look at Toren Kane in my house, talking about my girl.
Oliver steps up beside me. “Who is that? Is he why Sadie was crying?”
Throat closing up, I look down at her brother. “Sadie was crying? Is she okay?”
Oliver shrugs and crosses his arms, glaring daggers at Kane.
“Your mom took her upstairs and then your dad brought that guy in here. Can you just see if she’s okay? Does she need us?” The anxious tone of his voice makes me feel a little lightheaded.
I blow a breath and nod to Oliver. “You’re a good brother. Let me just see what’s going on.”
I walk into the foyer, fists clenched and about to start a real fucking fight with the asshole, but his gaze darts over my shoulder.
“Rhys,” my dad calls.
A wicked little smile takes over Kane’s face and he chuckles. “Better answer to your daddy, Cap.” His hand pats my chest condescendingly, shoving a little rough. “And tell your girl I’ll skate with her anytime”
“You motherfu—”
“Stop it,” my dad snaps, grabbing me by the shoulder.
Kane slips out the front door without another word, and I hear what sounds like a motorcycle take off.
“What the fuck? Why was Toren Kane in our house?” I round on my father.
He holds his hands up in surrender but I can hear my heartbeat in my ears, anxiety and frustration starting to ratchet higher.
“Calm down, Rhys. Please. Sadie really needs you right now. Do your exercises.”
I start counting immediately, desperate to bring myself down from it. When I can breathe normally again, my dad beckons me up the stairs and towards my room.
The door opens and my mom comes out, leaving it lightly cracked behind her.
“Rhys,” she whispers, eyes red like she’s been crying. She tries to stop me from entering the room, but I move around her.
I open the door gently, stepping in quietly as I take note of her sleeping form.
Except, I’ve slept next to the girl for months, seen exactly how she sleeps. And this isn’t it. She’s pretending.
Her eyes look swollen shut, face pink and her ankle is elevated with ice and a wrap around it.
I leave quietly, trying desperately to hold into the shredded threads of my current temper.
‘I’m gonna kill him,” I rasp, but there’s a catch in my throat as I look towards my room, where I know Sadie’s pretending to sleep. Tears burn in my eyes as I turn back towards my mom and reach for her.
“Oh Rhys, honey.” She envelops me in her arms. “No, it’s okay. She twisted her ankle skating and she couldn’t get home. Toren followed her here to make sure she didn’t crash. She was… upset.”
“About what? If he so much as—”
“She wouldn’t say,” my mom says, her eyes closed flickering to my father in the same way they have been almost constantly.
My dad steps forwards. “How much do you know about the figure skating coach she trains under?”
I shrug, a little uncomfortably. Is this something I should’ve paid attention to? Why are they asking me that?
“Sadie’s never complained or anything. But… I saw him get physical with her at the competition.”
My dad nods as if this is something he expected, then shares a knowing look with my mom. I comb and pull at my hair again, because I’m still shaking and if I don’t do something with my hands, I’m scared my whole body will start shaking.
“Know anything about him as a skater? Alexan Kelchevsky?”
“Kelchevsky? He goes by Kelley. Is he Russian?” My dad nods. I shake my head, but I’m starting to feel sick. “What is this about? You’re freaking me out—both of you.”
“You need to see this, then.”
