Six months later
“If you’re going to say something to jinx me, get the fuck out,” said Jett, narrowing his eyes at the pink-haired demon stalking toward him. “I swear, Park—”
Jin swung an arm over his shoulders and kissed his cheek. “Would you chill the fuck out? I’m here to cheer you on, not mess up your game.”
They were in the halls outside the Sunburst dressing room and clear view of the media. Jett ignored all the cameras pointed in his direction and focused his attention on the pretty Ottawa Conclave player clinging to him.
“Is Arlo here too?”
Jin rolled his eyes, cringing with disgust. “The whole group is here, although Blanchard said he’d be sitting in his own seats because he has a date, and he doesn’t want to scare her away.”
Blanchard was a moron for mentioning he had a date.
“I’m guessing you’re taking that as a challenge?” Jett asked.
“Damn right.” Park released him and folded his arms, puffing his chest out like he was some alpha fuckboy. “I’m going to torture the fuck out of him. I won’t stop until he starts crying—or punches me.”
“Dude, you need a life.” And because Jin was smaller than him, Jett patted him on the head like a puppy.
Jin slapped his hand away, scowling. “So do you, poodle-boy. I couldn’t believe it when Harrison said you were here already. The game doesn’t start forhours.”
Jett flushed so hard his skin felt prickly. “I…have a date.”
Jin blinked rapidly, like he was struggling to process the information. “A date? Aren’t you two already married? Married people don’t date.”
“We’re not married!”Jett hissed between clenched teeth. “The bastard still won’t propose to me, even though I’ve been waiting patiently—”
Jin threw his hands up to stop him. “Okay, I don’t want to hear about your relationship crap. This is why I’m chronically single.”
“I’ve had enough of you.” Jett shoved him, smirking when Jin shot him an offended look. “Go pre-game drink with the others and leave me be. I’ll see you after the game.”
Jin flipped him off as he walked away. “Don’t forget to bring Stanley to the celebration.”
Jett tried to cover his ears, but it was too late. He glared at Jin’s retreating back, irritation simmering inside his already nervous belly. “You’re an asshole, Jin Park!”
Laughter echoed through the halls, and cameras flashed. Jett turned and hurried to the rink before any of them got brave enough to approach.
It went without saying that the media had been thirsty for the story of what happened that night at the lake house, but thanks to court orders and a tight-lipped community, they could only find crumbs of information.
The only facts they could confirm were that Mike had drowned on Harrison’s property, and that Jett and Harrison were injured during an altercation.
They couldn’t hide the physical evidence of that night, not when Harrison’s limp was more pronounced, and he was wearing sunglasses indoors to help with his concussion.
Jett, too, bore the signs of that night, though his were more discreet. Beneath his gear, his forearms were wrapped to hide the still-healing cuts that had been sliced into them by sharp ice.
Jett had only taken two days off to recover, but Harrison was out until February. His concussion and broken ribs had kept him bedridden, and even four months later, he still suffered awful headaches that debilitated him.
Jett had been rushed into therapy, but his coping mechanism was, and always would be, hockey. He threw himself into his job with so much anger and determination that they had sailed to the playoffs, and then,when things kicked up a level, he doubled down and helped the Sunbursts get to this day. The final day.
People who knew hockey always said that the previous season’s second-place winners never made it to the end, but Jett was going to break that curse tonight. He was going to do it for him and Harrison, because they needed this. They needed somethinggoodto happen after the last five months of hell.
That night haunted them. The police did a thorough investigation and discovered that Mike had chopped down the tree to cut their power off and trapped them. He found the axe in the woodshed, and when Harrison had gone to collect some, he had hit him on the back of the head hard enough to knock him down—but not unconscious.
The rest of the events Jett remembered, but Harrison had lost most of his memories of him and Mike on the lake. He woke up screaming some nights, calling for his brother or kicking his arms and legs like he was fighting to get to the surface of the water.
It had scared Jett at first, but the episodes occurred less often and were less violent as time passed. Most wounds had healed, and the nightmares were fading. And with Mike’s body dragged out of the lake, soon it would be like nothing had happened at all.
Jett wasn’t against returning to the lake house, but if that was going to be their secondary residence, they were getting a fucking dog. A big one—something that could bite the arm off an intruder.
