Page 91 of Brutal Game

“Jack,” my little fury murmured, as if she could tell I was about to get stuck in the past and guilt. “Stay with me.”

“My mother, for her part, never stood up for us. In retrospect I don’t blame her. She was trying to survive, same as the rest of us. My brother, Micah, took the brunt of it. Until one day, he was gone. My sister Rebecca left after. I was third in line, doing what I could to protect my younger siblings, to be the buffer between my father and them. And even though I know better now—or try to know better—I felt abandoned. By my mother, my older siblings, the community. Everyone. No one looks out for you but you.”

Aviva twisted around to look at me.

“Until Coach Jensen,” she said, finally getting it.

“Until Coach,” I confirmed. “The community center had a rink. The manager would pretend not to see me when I’d borrow skates and a stick, and go out on the ice. I owe her a lot. It was the only place where I felt safe and in control of my life. I’d go there after school, and stay until late. She even kept the rink open for me.”

Mindy. I wondered how she was doing. If she remembered me. If she knew where I was. If she was proud.

She wouldn’t be proud of the way I treated Aviva.

Iwasn’t proud of the way I’d treated Aviva. I’d raped her. There was no way around it. Something I abhorred, I’d done myself. And even though it had gotten me her, and that I didn’t regret…I’d hurt the person who was quickly becoming the most important thing to me.

She was fire and she was fury and I’d tried to stamp thatout. Not because she’d threatened Coach, but because her very existence had threatened my control.

I cleared my throat. It hurt to swallow. “One day, a man approached me. Told me I was one of the most talented players he’d ever seen, especially for a teenager. He began showing up to train me. Let me join their team. Gave me free equipment. Taught me everything I knew—about ice skating, about what it meant to be a man.”

I looked at her carefully, wanting her to get it. “He never once touched me inappropriately. Never even insinuated anything. He was—is—like a father to me.”

Aviva opened her mouth, maybe to defend herself and her brother, but she must have thought better of it, because she said, “Keep going.”

I shook my head. “There’s not much else. I took my beatings, I began to fight back. The day I was stronger than he was, the day I threatened my real father—told him I’d kill him if he ever raised a hand to any of us again—that was the day he kicked me out. I went home on Saturdays when I knew he was out to check on my siblings, and now they’re all safe, thank god.”

Aviva pressed a kiss to my neck.

“It’s okay, Jack. You’re okay,” she murmured, and I held onto her words—to her—like a lifeline.

After I’d calmed, she asked, “Is that why you volunteer with foster kids?”

I nodded. “How did you know?”

“My brother told me.” She searched my eyes for a moment, then admitted, “I used to do the same thing. I miss it.”

My chest ached with the sweetness of her words. In some ways, we were so similar.

“We can go together sometime,” I said.

She nodded. “Tell me the rest.”

I cleared my throat. Talking about this hurt. “Coach took me in, let me live with him, helped me with my applications. Helped me change my name from Yacob to Jack, because I wanted to leave my past behind. By that time, he’d gotten the job at Reina, and he made sure the recruiters knew who he was. We started around the same time, me as a rookie player, him as a rookie college coach. He was the one who convinced me to red shirt, pushing me until I became the player I am now.”

“You’re going to be first in the draft, aren’t you?” she said.

“As long as I keep our winning streak going, take us to the Frozen Four, yeah. It’s rare that a left wing gets picked first; NHL teams usually go for centers. But?—”

“But that’s how good you are,” she finished for me. “I’ve seen you play.”

I tugged her hair. “I remember.”

A rosy blush covered her face, her chest. Probably from remembering that night on the rink, when I’d fucked her so hard we’d both changed. I’d refused to recognize it then, so had she.

But we were here now, thank fuck.

Or at least I was.

“Micah and Marcus showed back up in my life recently. Rebecca…” I shook my head. I had gotten two texts from her in the past couple of years, and relied on Marcus and his personal private investigator for news. “I think she ran away with the circus, or something like that. Marcus set us all up with massive trust funds, cars, helped get my younger siblings emancipated from our parents. But even with his financial support, even though his presence in my life means I have power, finally, I don’t trust him.”

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