Page 17 of Brutal Game

He moved his leg like he was dismounting a horse, kneeling in front of me as I shivered, overwrought.

“Now. Talk.”

6

Aviva

Silently, Jack untied my arms from the bench before surprising me by rubbing life back into them. I lay there, panting, staring up at the ceiling, counting the white squares that decorated it like an empty Tic Tac Toe board. That was funny, because just like with Tic Tac Toe, there was no winning here.

I drew in a breath, and began, even as I regretted the words. I was breaking my promise to my brother by telling someone, and I couldn’t tell if I was more ashamed of that or of what had just happened.

Either way, I was weak, and I hated myself for it.

“My last name is Gold. I’m Asher Gold’s sister.”

Nothing.

“Your head coach, Joshua Jensen? He abused him.”

Jack rolled his eyes.

I narrowed my own. How dare he be so dismissive! “For two years, ever since Asher joined the Kings.”

Jack snorted.

I turned my head to look at him. “You think that’s funny?”

“Coach was right,” he said.

“About what?”

Jack cleared his throat. “Asher’s been playing like shit for a long time. Kept letting the puck past him. He’s a weak link. Coach had to tell him he was being replaced as a starter. When your brother found out, he lost his mind?—”

“That’s a lie!”

“—Thought he could blackmail Coach by making false claims against him?—"

“They’re not false! They happened!” I practically yelled, I was so incensed.

“Bullshit,” he scoffed.

I tried to control my anger. I didn’t have to be a psych major to know he was deep in denial.

“Right,” I said. “I bet you think that Boy Scout leaders, priests, and all men in positions of authority are good guys.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, like my words pained him. Well, they should.

“No, I know shit like this happens in the NCAA and on teams all the time. Withbadcoaches. But Coach—Josh—is a good man. Thebest.”

“Maybe you think that, Jack, but I know my brother. I’ve seen his pain. He’s—” I stopped myself. Jack didn’t deserve to know how badly Asher was hurting. How he’d cut himself off from everything and everyone. Thrown out all of his hockey gear, his posters, everything. Gotten rid of our subscription to ESPN, stopped listening to Kendrick Lamar. He wasn’t himself, and I was determined to change that.

But how could I, when Jack was in my way, and wouldn’t listen to me?

He continued, speaking over me. “Your brother waspissed, especially because there were big sponsorships on the line, so he threatened Coach: either he got to keep his spot, or he’d tell the faculty, the paper, everyone that Coach had assaulted him. Josh was concerned, and tried to get Asher the help he needed, financial and mental, but your brother is a greedy asshole with a huge ego and an axe to grind. Josh knew this was coming, and I—we—told him we’d back him up.” He glanced at me, anger and revulsion in his eyes. “Had no idea that Asher had a greedy sister who was as conniving and fucked in the head as he is.”

It was like he’d punched me in the gut, and I’d lost my ability to breathe. “I’m sorry, what?”

“It’s obvious from your clothes. Asher was a scholarship student, and so are you. You don’t have money, so you’re desperate—and what better way than to lean on your brother and his sponsorships and future NHL contract? Hate to break it to you, princess, but you’re going to be wearing those cheap clothes for a while. Asher’s not going anywhere in life—he’s lucky that Coach didn’t take action against him.”

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