Page 8 of Breakaway

Sebastian pokes me in the back and says, “Coop, Vanessa is a huge Zeppelin fan. She has a classic rock show at McKee’s radio station.”

I lean against the frame of the door more firmly, crossing my arms over my chest so she’s drawn to my pecs. The tattoo over my heart isn’t Lord of the Rings related; it’s the Celtic knot, same as my brothers, but if she likes tattoos, maybe we can keep this conversation going. She’s not my type, but at this point, I’ll take anything. “Clearly you have good taste.”

She laughs shortly, running her hand through her hair. “Um, yeah. Well, I should go.”

“Why don’t you stay for breakfast?” Seb says. “I know it’s early, but I can run out for coffee while you and Cooper exchange tattoo stories.”

She looks me over, but unfortunately, without an ounce of heat in her expression. “Sorry, but I don’t get involved with brothers. Or athletes, usually. You were a fun exception, Sebastian.” She brushes past me and gives Seb a kiss on the cheek. “See you around, Callahan boys.”

She disappears into Seb’s room. He shrugs, giving me an apologetic look.

“Sorry. I tried my best.”

Annoyance rumbles through me. “I don’t need you to find hookups for me.”

“That wasn’t it,” he says. “I thought you might actually get along.”

“After you fucked her? Gee, thanks.” I go to the sink and splash water on my face. “I wasn’t in the mood for your sloppy seconds, anyway.”

“What’s the matter?” he asks. “She’s a nice girl.”

I huff out a breath. “Sorry. I’ve just been so—fuck, I don’t know.”

Seb’s voice is as dry as the desert. “In need of a lay?”

“I swear, Izzy cursed me last spring. My hookup game hasn’t been the same since Bex’s gallery show.” Or my hockey game. Maybe my mistakes on the ice are throwing me off-balance when it comes to my sex life. Or maybe my nonexistent sex life has led to the sloppy play. Whatever it is, I need to figure it out, especially since I have the chance to become team captain. Even if I play along with Coach’s demands, if I’m playing like shit, he’s not going to put me in charge of the team.

He just raises an eyebrow. “Tell me you don’t actually believe that.”

“You’re the least superstitious baseball player I’ve ever met,” I grumble. “I’ll talk to you later; I need to go work out.”

He looks like he wants to keep talking, but I clap him on the shoulder before pushing him into the hallway. “Tell Izzy I said good luck on her game today.”

***

I wipe a towel over my sweaty face as I lean back against the gym wall. Throughout my workout, I’ve been struggling not to hurl all over the floor. Depressingly, I look better than Evan, who has gone through the motions of his routine with all the energy of a zombie. When he saw me earlier, he tried to apologize, but it’s not his fault I punched that guy. Coach is right, I should have just put pressure on him next game, tried to get him to make a mistake on the ice, instead of going after him directly. There are ways to make a message clear in hockey that don’t involve fists, but I just couldn’t remember any of them. Maybe I didn’t want to. Letting my temper boil over into violence felt like a great idea at the time.

I pause my music and cross the gym. He’s just settling in at the bench press, but he needs a spotter. “Hey, Evan.”

He pulls out one of his ear buds. “Hey.”

“Need a spotter?”

His voice is thick as he responds. “Yeah, thanks.”

I get into position, watching as he adjusts the weight before settling on his back and planting his feet firmly on the floor. He’s a little on the small side for a defenseman, so he’s been trying to bulk up. We’ve been a defensive pair since our first season together. He deserves for hockey to be a happy distraction for him right now, rather than a burden.

I clear my throat after he gets a couple of reps in. “Look, man. You don’t have to worry about what happened yesterday. I deserved it.”

His brown eyes are swimming in tears. Fuck. His mother had been sick for as long as I’ve known him, but I know that just makes it worse in some ways. “At least you didn’t get suspended.”

I take the bar from him as he rests for a few beats, wiping the sweat from his face. “That dude’s an ass. He needed someone to shut him up.”

He sits up, looking around before ducking in closer. “Jean said that Coach wants to make you captain, but last night might’ve fucked it up.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. “I’m figuring out a way to make it happen.”

“You know Brandon wants it too.”

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