Page 88 of No Pucks

“Yes.” I go to the place I’d stashed the special order and pull it out, presenting the custom cane. “It’s hand carved and elegant. I thought you’d like carrying it better than the one your friend gave you.”

He accepts it, not giving me a clue if he likes it, carefully turning it in his hands. “Thank you.” It’s quiet at first, but his face transforms. He’s emotional and grabs me in a hug. “This is really thoughtful.”

“It’s not overstepping?” I ask—I had been worried.

“No, I told you I hated the one she gave me. I don’t like using it because it makes me feel old.”

“Is this one better?” I press my lips to his neck.

“Much. I’ll feel a little like a duke, but that’s better than old.” He sets down the cane then cups my face with both hands, kissing me softly. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Anthony fits in well with my family, relaxing into his dry humor, and even Mother seems to enjoy him. Dad is strangely quiet over break. None of us hear a thing from him, which should have clued me in that he’s up to something.

TWENTY-SEVEN

LOGAN

I’m feeling good going into the Monsters game. They’re one of our biggest rivals and my dad’s alma mater, so I’m sure he’ll show up—unwanted—at the game. But it doesn’t matter. I’m sure he heard about Anthony enjoying the holidays with Mother, and frankly, it feels good, considering he’s staying at the Four Seasons with some chick. We won the last five games in a row, so we’re strong going into this one.

What I’m not expecting is Anthony accosting me in a hallway after warmups, dragging me around a corner into one of the trainer rooms.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”

I search his face, not sure what has him so worked up. “What?”

“Did you know?” He nearly flattens me against the wall, whispering harshly under his breath.

“What?”

He shoves away from me, madder than I’ve ever seen him. It radiates through his body. “Did you just not want to tell me?” Doubt flickers in his irises. “Why does this feel like a fucking trap?—”

“Anthony,” I say through my teeth, feeling his words in my chest.

He doesn’t stop speaking. “—was his trying to work with me all a ruse?”

I glance around and then put both of my hands on his traps, giving him a slight shake, trying to get him to calm down so I can get a word in. “Will you fucking listen to me?”

He grinds his teeth but shuts up.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Can you clue me in?”

Rage boils over in his heavy breathing. He’s fighting to get a hold of himself. “Tell me the truth: did you know?”

“How can I tell you the truth if I don’t even know what you’re talking about!”

He sucks in a breath, going deadly calm. “You didn’t know your father is the fucking coach of the monsters?”

I stagger, suddenly light-headed. “What are you talking about?”

“How could you not know? He didn’t tell you?”

I shake my head, collapsing into a seat. “That fucking jackass.”

“He just let you go into a game to face him without a word?” Anthony softens. My reaction must have convinced him.

“He’d do anything for an advantage. You should know that.” I put my face in my hands, nauseated.

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