Page 9 of Rosie and the Beast Next Door

“You guys agree with him.” My breathing was hard again, and the single bite I’d taken churned in my stomach. I wanted to explode, to throw the table over and storm away, but my respect for these guys kept me rooted to my seat.

“No,” Gage said emphatically. “We’re a team. We need you now more than ever.”

“I don’t know if we can win the playoffs without you,” Bret added. He paused, then continued, his voice quiet. “But there’s more to life than winning hockey, Dyl. We’re all worried about you.”

Bret loved to win above all else, so for him to say that … It was like a cold glass of water thrown in my face, shocking my system to the point where I could actually hear them.

“Weallmiss Shiloh, but you guys were like brothers.” The last few bites of Gage’s burrito sat uneaten on the paper, proof of how hard this conversation was for him too. He never left food uneaten.

My hands relaxed on the table, and I stared at my bruised and cut knuckles. They often looked like this during the season, if not from playing, then from the cold. “I don’t know if I have it in me to watch you guys gear up for practice and games every day, and not go insane.”

“You won’t be doing that,” Bret said. He pulled out a notebook and set it in front of me. “Because we have a plan.”

For the first time all afternoon, I let myself feel a spark of hope. Despite everything, these guys still believed in me. Still wanted me on their team. The image of the scared kids flashed in my mind. Maybe something did need to change.

“First,” Bret said, in his element now that he had paper and a Sharpie laid out in front of him. “Go home to Winterhaven.”

“No.”

Gage pushed his long hair behind his ears and looked up from the notebook where Bret had written: Winterhaven. Underlined twice. “This one is non-negotiable. You need to show Coach that you’re willing to try to heal. Going back home will show him that more dramatically than anything else you might do.”

“I could do therapy,” I offered as a Hail Mary.

“Great,” Bret said. “Because that’s number two on the list.”

“I’m not going to Winterhaven.”

“It would just be temporary,” Gage said. “Long enough for Coach to see that you’re improving, healing, calming down, not traumatizing little kids—”

“And get you home in time for the championship game.” Gage took the Sharpie and underlined Winterhaven for a third time. I nearly growled as I ripped the marker from his hand.

“Third,” Bret said, wiggling his fingers until I handed the marker back. “Improve your public image. Beef up your social media. Kiss some babies. Help a few old ladies across the street.”

“And fourth,” Gage added, “pray for a miracle.”

I deflated against the seat and rubbed the sudden ache in my left temple.

Bret ripped the paper out of the notebook and handed it to me. “That’s all,” he said. “A four-step, foolproof plan to get back in Coach’s good graces.”

“And back on the team,” Gage added.

“That’s all,” I repeated, clutching the paper in my hand as if they hadn’t just asked me to rip my heart out and serve it on a platter to people I swore I’d never see again. And who would happily eat it.

Gage scarfed down the rest of his burrito like everything was settled peacefully in his mind. “Two weeks. One month, tops, and you’ll be back here. That’s like the length of an intense icing routine after an injury.”

I must have still looked as resistant as I felt, because Bret stood and patted my shoulder. “What do you have to lose, Dyl?”

More than they even understood.

Chapter 5

Rosie

Forrester Sibling Group Chat

Bennett: Rosie, someone’s breaking into your boat.

Bennett: I called Sheriff Savage’s cell.

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