Page 142 of Brutal Game

“You know,” I said, “There’s no reason to be embarrassed. The team knows what happened, and they support you.”

They did. The videos had been found, and even though no one had seen them, their existence was enough to turn the remaining players over to Asher’s side. Judah, for his part, had joked “I guess Gen Xers and Boomers still don’t understand how technology works.”

Jack hadn’t laughed. He’d squeezed my hand instead, and I’d squeezed his back. I knew losing the coach—and the pretend version of him he showed the world—was hard on him. A lot of things were hard on Jack now. He had nightmares sometimes, waking up and gripping me tightly.

I couldn’t find you,he’d say.I ran and ran through the fire, and I couldn’t find you. Couldn’t get there fast enough.

And I’d hush him, comfort him, with my body when he needed it, with my voice when he didn’t, until he finally fell back to sleep. I’d expected to have nightmares, but I didn’t. And neither of us dreamed about the coach. I should’ve been worried, how little guilt we both felt over his death, but then, I knew there was something dark and wrong about me—if there wasn’t, I wouldn’t be marrying Jack.

Asher glanced at the huge, shining rock on my hand. “I know your fiance pulled strings to get me back on the team?—”

“He didn’t pull strings,” I argued.

“—But I’m just not ready. I will be, I promise. But I’m not.”

We watched as the opposing team’s goalie froze the puck.

“That’s illegal right?”

“Delay of game,” Asher murmured. “They’re getting desperate.”

An official blew a whistle, calling it.

Jack took advantage of the break to skate over to us where we sat in the stands above the team’s bench.

“Asher,” he called.

“Jack,” Asher said back.

After Jack had apologized for not believing him—and Asher had gotten over his anger—they’d formed something of a friendship. They weren’t close, but they were getting there. Asher refused to speak to Dave, which Dave seemed to accept.

For now.

Jack turned to me.

“Princess, you ready? Because I’m going to win this one for you.”

I grinned at him, happy.

“I know you are.”

“You look good in my jersey.”

“I know I do,” I teased.

Behind me, Marcus coughed. “Get a room, you two.”

Beside him, Micah chuckled. “I’m sure they will.Afterthe game.”

Jack ignored them, but I knew he was glad his brothers were here. I was glad they were finally mending their relationships.

“God, do you have to make jokes like that?” Ashercomplained. “She’s my sister. It’s disgusting,” he said, turning to me. “You’re disgusting.”

I giggled, punching him in the shoulder.

The horn sounded and the game started back up, and we were busy watching Jack and his team move across the ice like they shared one brain. Jack stole the puck from the other team’s defensemen, passing it to Isaac, who ragged the puck and then passed it back to Jack.

The defensemen must have exchanged a look, because they ganged up on Jack and slammed him against the boards.

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