Page 61 of Racking Up Penalties
I pull all of us away from the middle of the bar and into a back area that is quiet and more private.
“Why?” The one word from Liam is heavy, loaded with significance that I can’t quite grasp. Liam’s gaze never wavers from Ethan’s, demanding an answer.
Ethan shifts uncomfortably, his throat working as if he’s trying to swallow down words that don’t want to be caged. My heart clenches for him. He told me that his relationship with his dad was strained at best, toxic at worst. To be cut off… it speaks volumes.
“Doesn’t matter,” Ethan finally mutters, but Liam doesn’t back down, his stare unyielding. I can feel the story teetering on the edge of Ethan’s lips, ready to spill into the open.
I reach out, touching Ethan’s arm, trying to offer some comfort without words. He looks at me, and there’s a vulnerability there I rarely see. I squeeze his arm gently, letting him know I’m here.
The silence stretches between us. Something in my expression must signal to him that it’s okay to be vulnerable. I watch as the walls he’s built so painstakingly begin to crumble.
“Fine,” he exhales, the word seeming to take all of his willpower. “After Liam and I fought, my dad… he lost it. He’s who just called. He said I embarrassed him, missing the first game because of some juvenile fight.” Ethan’s voice is a low growl, each word laced with resentment. “He laid into Liam, like it was his fault. But it wasn’t. It never was.”
The intensity in Ethan’s eyes grows, fueled by a fire that’s clearly been burning for too long.
“I told him we’re friends,” Ethan continues, his glance flickering to Liam. “And that’s non-negotiable. So yeah, he cut me off.”
There’s a profound silence, broken only by the thumping bass of the bar’s music. I’m at a loss, my mind racing to make sense of it all. Liam steps forward, his eyes locked on Ethan. In a move that seems both out of character and yet deeply fitting, he wraps Ethan in a tight embrace.
“Why would that matter?” I whisper, more to myself than to them. My heart aches with the weight of their shared history, the pieces of the puzzle that I’m still missing.
Ethan’s shoulders relax ever so slightly under Liam’s hold. Their interaction has an unspoken language, a lifetime of battles fought separately and together. Ethan hugs him back tightly.
“It matters,” Liam murmurs, pulling back just enough to look at Ethan with something akin to gratitude. “Because we’re half-brothers, Tessa.”
The words hang between us, and for a second, I can’t breathe. “Half-brothers?” The question feels stupid even as it tumbles out, but my brain is scrambling to catch up.
Ethan nods, his brown eyes locked on mine, searching for… what? Understanding? Acceptance? “Yeah, Tessa,” he says softly.
Liam’s gaze is fixed on the ground, a muscle working in his jaw before he looks up, his gray eyes stormy with old hurts. “Our dad was never around for me. He left my mom high and dry when she was pregnant and went back to his wife. To Ethan’s mom.”
My heart clenches for him, and without thinking, I reach out, my hand brushing against Liam’s arm. “I had no idea,” I breathe.
“Nobody does,” Liam murmurs, almost lost beneath the pulse of music. “Michael did everything to keep me from getting here—to this level of hockey. Tried to block every opportunity that came my way.”
“Your skill was enough to get past that,” Ethan interjects.
“Damn right.” Liam’s lips twist into a wry smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “No amount of money or manipulation could change that.”
I’m struggling to piece together everything I’m hearing.
The atmosphere shifts, turning heavier as Ethan’s voice cuts through the cacophony of bar noise, tinged with a bitterness that can only come from deep-seated pain. “Michael… he’s always been about control. About winning,” Ethan confesses, his eyes darkening like a storm cloud about to break. “He made Liam and me enemies before we even knew each other. Made it clear that if Liam ever outdid me on the ice, I’d be the one to pay.”
I reach out, placing a gentle hand on his, offering silent support. To hear the suffering in Ethan’s admission is to witness a part of him that’s been locked away, and I’m struck by the raw vulnerability he’s exposing to us, to me.
Liam steps closer, his gray eyes burning with a fierce resolve. “You don’t have to deal with him anymore, Ethan. I’ve got your back.” His voice is a lifeline, strong and sure. “Let’s start clean, right now. Just you and me with none of the baggage?”
Ethan looks at Liam, really looks at him, and there’s this moment of absolute clarity. A single nod, and it’s like years of walls between them crumble. “Yeah,” he breathes out, relief palpable in the simple word.
They hug and all the tension is gone.
I can’t help the tears that spring to my eyes or the smile that curves my lips upward. This feels monumental—their reconciliation, their shared determination to move forward. I’m overwhelmed by affection for these two men who’ve fought battles no one should ever face alone.
“Clean slate,” I whisper, my voice breaking with emotion.
Ethan and Liam pull apart, but the connection between them remains unbroken, a tether of newfound trust and kinship. They both turn to me and pull Tristan and me into their hug.
“New beginnings,” Liam echoes, his arm slipping around my shoulders. It’s an anchor, grounding me in this moment of tumultuous joy and hope.
