Page 73 of Hat Trick

My best friend taps me on the forehead. “Thisis the kidney moment, Gwen. Don’t think the worst of him, not yet. Go, listen, be there forhim.”

She’s right. She’s soright.

I stand. “I have togo.”

Charlie gives me a little slap on the ass. “Go get ‘em, girl. Protect what’syours.”

She’s right, again. Marshall is mine and I’ll be damned if I let someone bring him down. We’ll figure it out. We’ll tackle ittogether.

I just have to figure out where the hell he isfirst.

30

Hunt

Like the rat he is,Dave decided to miraculously “appear” in my house when I got back from dealing with the Blades’ headstaff.

I knew I made the right decision in going to them when this shit all went down. The tabloids may be having a field day but my coaches, the authorities, and the NHL all know that it’s a load ofcrap.

Best decision of my professional career? Turning on the recording app on my phone just before entering that warehouse in Brockton. When the cops showed up a few days later, asking for me to turn my cell phone in for evidence, I did so without question, even if I did have to lie about breaking it at the gym toGwen.

If there’s one thing my childhood taught me, it’s always being prepared for theworst.

Optimism will get you far, but pessimism will ensure that you get outalive.

Not everyone has your best interests in mind, and Dave definitely doesn’t havemine.

I stare at my older brother, waiting for him to speakfirst.

“You think you’re so smart, bro,” he spits out. He wavers in place, and I can smell the alcohol seeping out from his pores even from here. “You think”—he throws a hand on the kitchen island to keep himself steady—“that you knoweverything.”

“I don’t know everything.” I let that sink in before adding, “But I know you, Dave. The way your mind works and the tricks you think are sostealthy.”

He throws his head back and laughs, a gurgling sound emerging from his lips. “I hate you, you know.” With shaky steps, he nears me, one hand trailing along the wall. “I hated you when we were kids, when Mom would shield you from our asshole father. Did she ever do that for me?” He points to his chest. “Fuck no she didn’t. She left me to defendmyself.”

“You’re seven years older, Dave.” I don’t retreat from his approach, choosing instead to hold my ground. “You were bigger than Mom. You don’t think she would have done something for you, too, if she thought you couldn’t protectyourself?”

“Nah,” Dave says. He stumbles over his legs before using the wall to keep himself steady. “The reason she didn’t bother with me was because I wasn’thers.”

What?

My eyes go wide and my palms go slick. “What the fuck are you even talkingabout?”

“Exactly what I said,bro.”

I shake my head. “No, you’re obviously stoned. Not in your right fucking head.” The detectives handling my case had slipped me their number in case Dave showed up. I put my hand into my pocket, wishing I had one of those old school phones with actual buttons. There’s no way I’ll be able to call the cops with Dave bearing down on me like a drunkenox.

Worst case scenario: I take him down and sit on his ass while I wait for the detectives to showup.

“Listen, Dave.” I hold my hands up so he can see I’m not packing. “There were a lot of things our parents said while we were growing up. It doesn’t mean that youweren’t—”

“I was a stripper’s son,” my brother cuts in, “one that Dad apparently loved to fuck in those early years when him and Mom first got married. He made her take me in, and I fucking wish hehadn’t.”

“Dave, stop. Just think rationally for a second, wouldyou?”

His head tilts to the side. “Was that thedoorbell?”

“No.” I put a hand to his shoulder. “Listen to me, Dave, regardless of whether or not you’reMom’s—”

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