That was rich. “What you taught me. Trying to win.”
“At all costs? You can’t win clean so you have to win dirty.”
“Henri, don’t.” Nadine put her hand on her husband’s arm. “Not now.”
“This is what you wanted, Dad. Both of us going at it until no one’s left in the cage. Don’t act all surprised when someone gets hurt.”
His father stared at him, his gaze thick with disdain. “You think this is what I want? All that talent out of the game for the rest of the season?”
No, he wouldn’t want that. No one would. When Reid went hard enough at Bast to knock him out, he wasn’t even thinking of besting his brother to win Henri’s approval. He was thinking of making his mark, separate from the Durands. Forging a path that won him a contract, a team where he could belong, a home with his dog and the woman he loved.
He no longer cared what his stepfather thought, not really.
All he cared about was Kennedy.
Kennedy, who was already packing her suitcase and turning her face to the sun. Away from the darkness that was him.
The medic came out and Henri pounced on him. “Is my son okay?”
“Sure. He’s concussed but awake. Busted nose. Wrist fracture.”
Henri’s expression turned even darker. “His wrist? But that’s eight weeks, minimum.”
The medic looked sympathetic. “Yeah, usually he would have been able to brace himself but he probably lost consciousness first and fell badly on it. Give the docs a few minutes. They’ll be transporting him to Riverbrook Memorial for X-rays and to set the fracture.”
Henri turned to Reid and jabbed a finger in his shoulder. “His wrist, Reid. You know what that means? He’s out of the Olympics. Probably the rest of the season.”
Reid’s heart plummeted to a new personal hell. “Dad, you know I didn’t intend for that to happen. I would never want to hurt him.”
“Sure. You think I don’t remember how rough you were on him as a kid? Still jealous, I see.” Henri shook his head in disgust. “Just stay away. He doesn’t need to see you right now.” He headed out to see his son.
Nadine squeezed his arm. “Just give him time, Reid. You know how invested he gets.”
Sure, with one of them.
Alone, Reid collapsed on a sofa in the lounge, every bone and muscle in his body suddenly giving out at once. On the ice, he had played hard and rough, determined that no one would come away thinking Bastian Durand was the only talent in the family. If he could take it to his brother, he would prove he was in the right place with the right team. He wouldn’t need Henri or Bast or Kennedy because he was here where he deserved to be.
Instead he had acted like a barbarian.
He had become Henri.
His phone buzzed with a message from Kennedy. She’d already called three times.
Is he okay?
When he didn’t respond, she called again, her pretty face flashing on the screen. He had freeze framed it one night when she was FaceTiming him, a moment that captured her mid-laugh, a ball of sun in his dark world.
He pressed ignore.
She would want details, maybe even to talk to Bast. Reid was sick of himself and speaking to Kennedy would only highlight everything that was wrong with him.
A screen in the lounge broadcast the game on mute. The third period was starting, the Rebels already down by two, owing to the power play the Hawks got when Reid was ejected.
Reid turned away, repulsed, only to find Kennedy standing at the door.
Her roommate was here, looking about as dejected as she had ever seen him.
“Is Bast okay?”
He met her gaze, his pain a shockwave that hit her hard. “Who told you I was here?”
“Mia found out.” She closed the door behind her and came closer. “Is it serious?”
“A concussion and a wrist injury. He’s conscious. Or so I hear.”
Thank God. “You haven’t seen him?”
“Henri is with him. He won’t want to see me. Not after what I did.”
“I doubt that.” That sounded like Henri talking. “I imagine he’ll be out for a while but—”
“He’ll miss the Olympics.”
Oh, poor Bast. This game was so much more dangerous than she had imagined. Seeing Bast stretchered off the ice tonight had sent her down a Google rabbit hole.
Tara had not been kidding about hockey’s propensity for horrific accidents. Listicles abounded detailing skate blades to the hand, the neck, the head. One guy had received so many stitches after one incident his face looked like a football. Even Isobel Chase, one of the Rebels owners, had suffered a career-ending injury when 37 minutes into her first professional hockey game, a skate blade sliced through her skull and almost killed her.
Bast was hurt tonight, all because his brother had something to prove to an asshole who shouldn’t be allowed to raise children. Next time, it could be Reid. A gash to his neck, a concussion that shook his brain loose. An injury that killed him.
But even knowing that, she was prepared to take a chance on him.
On them.
“That was scary. Seeing him knocked out like that.”
“By me.”
Sitting close, she placed a hand on his arm. “Yeah, by you. Why did you go at him so hard?”
“Because I’m an asshole.”
“No, you’re not.” Sports seemed to bring out certain personality traits, though. “These things happen.”
“Yeah, they happen. Usually because one person makes them happen. We’re professional skaters, y’know. Most everything that happens on the ice is planned.”
Grumpy, difficult Reid throwing up fences. She wasn’t falling for that. Of course he didn’t mean to hurt his brother—not like that—but the situation had blown up. She wanted to soothe him, do anything to help him through this.
“Maybe you should talk to him. Tell him you didn’t mean to go so overboard.”
“I’m the last person he wants to see. I just fucked up his Olympics, the rest of his season, his shot at another championship.” He stared at her. “And how do you know I didn’t mean it? You don’t know what’s in here.” He pointed at his head.
Oh, but she did. She knew how years of brainwashing had held Reid captive to one man’s vision and how in the last few weeks he’d emerged from that dark place to become his own man.
“Because I don’t believe you’d hurt anyone deliberately, even in the heat of battle. Especially your brother.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I want a place on this team, and it looks like I was prepared to do anything to get it. Guess there’s more of the old man in me than we all thought.”
“You’re not like him.”
His eyes had turned dark, the blackness evicting all trace of blue. “I’m just like him. And I don’t need your hippie-yoga-let’s-all-get-along new age shit to tell me I’m not. I’m out there on the ice, kicking ass and taking names. I’m so on top of my game that I’m slamming my own brother into the boards and dealing out concussions and fractures like candy.”
“Reid, I get that something happened tonight with your brother. Something that’s been a long time coming and is rooted in the toxic relationship with your father. All your life he’s manipulated you into thinking everything is transactional and that you can’t have a real friendship with your brother or even your teammates because they’re your competition for, well, everything. It doesn’t have to be that way. You could step back from that. Just say no more.”