Page 126 of My Brother's Enemy
Coach Hines was finishing up his pregame speech when I slipped inside the locker room. He looked over at me and extended a hand. “Is there anything you wanted to include?”
I nodded and stepped forward. I made sure my words came out clear and calm. “Today’s game is no different than any other game you’ve played before. If you think it’s different, your brain is going to start looking for the differences. It’ll look for other information to fill in, and that’s not what you need today. This is a game like any other.” I looked around, meeting their eyes. “I don’t want your focus on the other team or my brother, though hewill bean asshole to you. He thrives on conflict and tension. That’s how he operates. Know that. Expect that from him. But there’s nothing special about Daniel. He’s just another bruiser trying to get in your head, so you do what you always do. You shut him out. You play the game. And with respect to whatever Coach Hines has told you, I want you to have fun out there. Don’t focus on the score. Don’t focus on what they’re doing or what they might be doing. Focus onyourgame. Yours. Doyourbest. Compete against yourself. Beat your personal best. This is hockey. You grew up playing it. They don’t want you to havefun. My brother doesn’t want you to have fun. So go out and do exactly what they don’t want. Remind yourself why youlovethis game.”
I nodded to Coach Hines, hoping I hadn’t overstepped.
He gave a nod of approval. “Okay, boys. Let’s go out and do this. Have fun out there.”
They rallied with a cheer, and Bruge stepped up to say a few words, which had them rallying even louder. “Let’s fucking go!” he shouted, hitting the wall as he stepped out of the locker room. Each player hit the wall in the same spot as they passed, and the coaches followed.
The crowd was deafening as we came through the tunnel, and the noise went up another decibel when Brick hit the ice. Assistant Coach Marken gave me a rueful grin. “That never gets old.”
Coach Hines held me back as the others moved into the bench. “They’re rallying around you.”
I shook my head. “Like you didn’t set that up when you asked if I wanted to say something.”
He shrugged. “You did good.” Then he clasped me on the shoulder before joining the rest of the staff on the bench.
I lingered a little for a moment, watching from the tunnel as the players zipped around the ice before lining up for both countries’ national anthems. The lights dimmed. The starters went to their spots as they were announced. The Canadian anthem played, followed by the United States’ anthem, and then it was time to play hockey.
Bruge went to the face-off, but when the puck dropped, he ignored it, already dropping his gloves. The crowd went apeshit. Hands slapped against the partitions. Everyone stomped their feet Bruge went right for my brother, who met him. Both teams knew this would happen, and I knew the camera was going to look for me, so I stayed in the tunnel. Waiting.
Daniel had always lived for fighting. He loved the violence, and he used it to get in his opponents’ heads. Bruge had zeroed in on him, but he was cold. Daniel was yapping, saying some shit. Bruge wasn’t having it. He said nothing, his face impassive. Then he punched my brother in the head, without a word. He was out to pummel him as quickly as possible.
I saw Daniel falter, realizing this fight was different. Panic flared, briefly. His gaze cut to our bench, probably looking for me, but I wasn’t there. I wanted him to flounder. If he had seen me, he might have remembered to be the asshole he’d always been, like he was fighting for our family’s dynamics or something. But he was on his own with this. I caught the moment he decided to end the fight. He took Bruge to the ice. That’s when the refs weighed in, stopping them. The rest of the players held back. This was business as usual.
The penalties were handed out, and both Bruge and Daniel went to the box.
Coach Hines did a line change, sending the first line out there, with Tyler taking the face-off. I moved out to the bench, standing in the back.
The game started, and it was rough. The checks were harder than normal, the skating faster.
Tyler scored while my brother was still in the penalty box, and he made sure to skate past Daniel, making eye contact with my brother with a smirk on his face. Daniel’s nostrils flared. He shook his head, his mouth going, but Tyler had already passed.
I wondered what the announcers were saying, then I stopped thinking about it and took my own advice. No matter what, this was just another hockey game. Tyler’s line came off, and second line went in with the third-line center filling in for Bruge until he got out of the box.
I felt Tyler’s gaze on me a couple times, but I just watched the game, dissecting everything like I usually did. So far, theGrays were playing smoothly. After Bruge came out of the box, and my brother as well, the team kept strong. Sunny scored, with an assist from Tyler. They made sure to celebrate as close to the Montreal’s bench as possible. And every single one of the Grays players looked over, finding my brother as they skated past.
I didn’t go into the locker room during the period break. I usually didn’t, preferring to let them keep to their routine. I stayed back and went over some notes. When it was time for the second period to start, the crowd was on their feet. Montreal hit the ice, and a chant rose up from the stands.
It took a second before I figured out the words.
“Fuck you, Daniel. Fuck you! Fuck you, Daniel. Fuck you!”
Javier, one of the assistant coaches, came over and showed me his tablet. He’d pulled up a clip from when Tyler and my brothers played in the state championship against each other. The crowd had chanted a similar jeer, “Fuck you, Griffin. Fuck you!”
These fans had turned it around.
“I think they went for your brother’s first name because of you,” Javier said. “We’ve got a Connors too.”
I grinned. “It’s perfect. Makes it more personal for Daniel.” I was a little horrified that my nieces could hear this, but hockey fans were going to do what hockey fans were going to do. The chant wouldn’t last long.
What I didn’t say was that it wasn’t likely to get in Daniel’s head. If anything, my brother would thrive on the attention and the booing. He always liked it when the other team’s fans hated him. That made him bigger and badder in their minds. And I saw it happening in real time. His chest puffed out and a cocky, shit-eating grin spread on his face. It was visible through his visor.
He skated past our bench, finding me, and I shook my head, trying to convey that I knew what he was thinking. He was so fast that I don’t know if it worked.
“He thinks he’s such a legend.”
I drew up short, surprised to find Meester had come up next to me. “What?”
