Crew (Hockey Royalty #3)

1. Liv

Chapter 1

Liv

I just stare at my hands. I can't stop. They're twisted together in my lap, motionless, but my nails are digging into the flesh. I think I can feel it. I mean, no. I can't. Not the way I should. But the dulled pain I feel is welcome because I'm here to feel it. I'm here. Alive. Unharmed, mostly.

“Olivia,” a gentle voice says. I look up to find a nurse’s head poking through the ajar door. “Your cousin?—”

And then the door is pushed all the way open and the nurse barks out a complaint but Tenley shoves her out of the way anyway. “Liv. Oh my God. Liv.”

She is charging toward me at the speed of light. I flinch and hold up my hands, palms out, as my eyes snap shut. Her sneakers squeak on the white tile floor she stops so abruptly. “I’m fine. I swear.”

I am so not fine. Not mentally. But physically, on paper, I am and that’s important. It’s everything. I have to focus on that.

“Ma’am I told you to wait in the hall until she gave consent.”

"I give consent," I say and my voice is oddly hoarse. Oh right, I screamed when he tried to… do whatever he tried to do.

The nurse hesitates but closes the door and Tenley squats in front of me, a foot from the edge of the medical bed I’m perched on. She looks up at me, her fearless blue eyes are… fearful, and that’s when my own tears overtake me. Fuck. I’ve scared the one unflappable, brave, fearless person I know. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

"Liv. Oh, God." Tenley is crying now too. I can't see it, because my eyes are swimming in tears, but I can hear it. "Oh my God, I am going to fucking murder this guy. I am going to rip his throat out with my bare hands. Oh my God."

“I’m fine,” I repeat because eventually I should believe it, right? Manifest it or some shit. “He didn’t. I wasn’t.”

“You weren’t?” Tenley questions, and we don’t have to say the words. We’re women. We both know exactly what we’re talking about. “He didn’t?”

“He tried. I mean I think he was trying,” I swallow and wipe at my cheeks, willing the tears to fucking stop. “Maybe he was just going to rob me, but the police think… I stopped him from maybe doing both.”

Tenley raises to her full height and I watch her walk to the little bathroom attached to the private room they put me in off the emergency waiting room. She comes back with a paper towel in her hands. “Can I touch you?”

I nod and she leans forward and wipes the paper towel gently across my cheek. I'm shocked when it's pinkish-red. "You have blood on your hands and you wiped it across your face."

I look down. My nails sliced my flesh. There’re three bleeding half-moons on the flesh of my palm. I press them into my jeans. The door opens and we both turn. I jump though because I’m still freaking out inside.

The doctor looks at me with a small reassuring smile. “Your CT came back clear. You don’t even have a concussion.”

“Thank god,” Tenley sighs out. “Can you look at her hands please?”

The doctor’s eyes flit down and his eyebrows pinch for a second but he smiles again and puts his tablet on the bed beside me as he asks me to flip over my hands. He sees the marks. “I’ll get a nurse to clean that up and I’m going to prescribe you some Ativan. I want you to take one before you leave. And another tomorrow morning and then, as required.”

“I don’t need drugs.”

“You do,” he insists. “Just for a couple of days. And you also need counseling. I am going to give you some pamphlets.”

“I don’t,” I argue. “Nothing happened to me.”

"Miss Garrison, just because you didn't experience the worst-case scenario doesn't mean you didn't experience valid trauma," he tells me like I'm some silly little kid who doesn't know how the world works. I kind of feel like that so I'm not offended. "And I'm still going to advise you to let us call your parents."

“No. Never. NO!” Did I just yell that last no? Judging by the way the doctor stiffens and Tenley jumps, I guess I did. I try to take a deep breath but I can’t. “Are my ribs broken? Bruised. I can’t… I can’t take a deep breath.”

“That’s what the Ativan is for,” he explains as he picks up his tablet. “It will help with the shock and panic. So will the therapy. And the support of your family. Parents.”

Tenley’s hand gently touches my shoulder. “I’m her cousin. She lives with me. I’ll take good care of her.”

He looks less concerned after Tenley reveals that but still a little worried. He nods and hands Tenley some pamphlets from his lab coat pocket. “The nurse will be here in a second with the prescription and to clean your hands. Take care, Olivia. You’re a warrior. Remember how strong you were tonight.”

He leaves the room and Tenley runs a hand on top of my head and looks at the bruise I know is forming on my cheek. She forces her eyes to mine. “He’s right. You are a warrior and I’m so proud of you.”

She tucks the pamphlets into the back pocket of her jeans and goes back to smoothing my hair. It’s nice, and that feeling of comfort starts to seep in. My mom used to smooth my hair after I had nightmares when I was little. My mom… oh God… if I was just more like my mom maybe I wouldn’t be this shaken. Maybe the asshole wouldn’t have seen me as a target. She’s the only person I know who is as fearless, strong, and tough as Tenley.

My eyes start to well up again but the nurse comes in and I focus on her, and her instructions, and I take the little tablet she gives me and let it melt under my tongue as instructed. Honestly, I feel like I’m listening to her talk but not truly hearing a word she says. And then the drug starts to work before I can even stand up. I need Tenley to guide me slowly out of the hospital and to her waiting car.

All I remember for the rest of the night is waking up in different places. The car. The outdoor courtyard of our apartment building where I was being carried by my cousin Tate, Tenley’s brother. My bedroom. Tate’s girlfriend Mallory was sitting on one side of my bed, and Tenley on the other.

Every time I woke I only said one thing. “Don’t tell my parents.”

And they all promised not to tell.

* * *

When I finally wake up and actually feel awake, the room is dark. I'm not in the clothes I'd been wearing when it happened. I'm in my favorite pajamas. I guess Tenley, or maybe Mallory, changed me. I stretch. My hands ache a little. My head feels like someone has stuffed it with cotton, and my neck's stiff, but I remember everything.

I remember walking on Hilgard Avenue, the street that skirts the University campus. I remember seeing the bus stop on Sunset and starting to dig in my pocket for my bus pass. I remember the feel of big, cold, clammy hands on my throat. The harsh way he yanked me. The feel of my left shoulder being crushed into the grass next to the sidewalk. I don’t remember clawing his face. I do remember the punch, seeing his hand coming for my face and the pain radiating up into my skull like a lightning bolt, but I don’t remember slamming the butt of my hand into his nose. I remember his weight being gone from my body as the blow caused him to topple backwards, off of me. I remember scrambling to my feet. I think I screamed?

I swallow now and my throat is desperately sore. Yeah. I screamed. I remember a woman yelling. A man my dad's age appeared out of nowhere. He jumped on the guy who attacked me. I don't know who he was or what happened next. I don't think I blacked out. I don't know though. I just remember being in an ambulance and then the little room at the hospital.

I sit up and slowly get out of bed. My door is pulled but not tightly closed, and I can hear voices in the living room just down the hall. As I walk on shaky legs to take my robe off the hook on the back of the door, I eavesdrop.

“It’s not your fault, Ten,” Tate says firmly. “You need to stop with that. Now.”

“But I took the car. I knew she had an evening class. I was just meeting friends for dinner. I should have Ubered.” Tenley sounds distraught.

“If Liv hears you, she’ll waste all her energy making you feel better when she should be concentrating on herself..” Tate warns his little sister and he’s not wrong. I feel guilty hearing the anguish in Tenley’s voice.

I never mind when Tenley takes the car. I mean, we share the car. She usually uses it less than me but, I've been trying to lessen my carbon footprint. Los Angeles has a fairly decent transit system that nobody uses. I was being responsible. Even if Tenley had left me the car I might not have taken it to school that evening. There have been times when she’s home and the car is available but I still walk or take the bus. I won’t anymore, but I did.

“He’s right, Ten,” Mallory says. I worry that Tate’s girlfriend is here and knows about everything. The more people who know the harder it will be to keep it from my parents. My family is large and a bit of a sieve. All the grains of news and drama eventually slip through. “Let’s all just concentrate on the fact that she kicked that dude’s ass. He’s in jail and she’s okay, more or less anyway.”

“I’m so proud of her.”

“Thank fucking god she knows how to fight,” Tate adds. “And she found the courage to do it. And he wasn’t armed. And that couple came out of their home.”

I open the door and make my way down the hall. My legs are shaky like they're weaker than they were just twenty-four hours ago. The living room curtains on our two big windows are pulled back and the room is bathed in light. It feels like the sun is extra bright. Everything feels… Extra.

Mallory sees me first and gets to her feet. She’s on the floor by the coffee table with Dylan, Tate’s son. Mallory’s eyes are soft, her smile tentative. “Hey. You okay?”

“Yeah.” My voice is thick. I clear my throat as Tenley jumps out of her chair and spins to face me and Tate leans forward from his position on the couch. “Hungry. I think.”

“I’ll get you something,” Mallory says and hands Tate the truck she’s holding. Dylan gets to his feet and reaches for it.

Mallory passes me on her way to the kitchen and shoots me another gentle smile. I think I smile back. “I feel… numb.”

“That’s probably normal,” Tate surmises and slides over to the other end of the couch. “Come sit.”

I walk toward him. Dylan looks up at me. “Wivvy!”

I look down at him and my heart starts to feel warm, and my body starts to wake up. He’s the best. The addition our family had no idea we needed. This time last year Tate had no idea Dylan existed. Now, our big family couldn’t imagine life without him.

He, like Tate, Mallory, and the rest of us, has spent the summer in Maine with our extended family. It was a great summer where we celebrated Tate’s Stanley Cup win, Dylan’s first birthday, his first steps, and his first words. One of which was Wivvy (his version of Livvy) because I spent every moment I could with him.

Tenley is now in her senior year at UCLA and I should have graduated last year. I switched majors and now I have another year of classes, and an internship, in order to graduate with a degree in Art Education.

“Shouldn’t you be at practice or something?” I ask as I take a seat next to Tate and Dylan waves at me with the enthusiasm only a toddler has.

“Season hasn’t started yet, Liv,” Tate reminds me gently. Right. It’s only September. Hockey starts in early October which is… almost two weeks away. “I told the coach I had a family thing. It’s fine if I miss a practice or two right now.”

I start to panic. “You didn’t tell him details, right? Did you tell anyone else? Please say no.”

He raises both hands and his aquamarine eyes get wide. "I swear I didn't tell anyone. He probably thinks it's Dylan-related. I understand this is personal, Liv. I am not telling anyone anything. But I think you should talk to Uncle Devin and Aunt Callie."

My parents. My anxiety ratchets up so quickly at the thought I shudder. Tate touches my shoulder. I shudder again. He pulls his hand back. “Liv, you know they’ll support you.”

“I know. I don’t want them to, though,” I reply and, as if he senses my stress, Dylan discards the truck Tate gave him and starts to try and climb my legs, tugging on the leg of my pajamas. I pull him into my lap and he immediately snuggles into me.

“I felt the same way when I found out about Dylan. I didn’t want to tell any of you because I didn’t want help. But I was wrong,” Tate replies and runs a hand over Dylan’s head. His blond hair is almost white thanks to a summer at the lake. “I should have told them immediately.”

“He should have,” Tenley agrees. She’s been watching me quiet as a mouse, hugging her knees to her chest in the chair.

“The difference is Dylan is here forever,” I explain and it’s tough trying to put my feelings into words. “This isn’t forever. I don’t want this to be forever. It was a thing that happened. It sucks. I’m fine. I don’t want to have to keep talking about it forever. I don’t want Dad to be stressed about me living here. I don’t want Mom to ask me if I’m okay until the end of time.”

“I get that but…” Tenley sighs. “I’m worried about you.”

“Please don’t be. I’m going to be okay. I swear,” I say firmly.

Tate and Tenley exchange pessimistic glances. I frown as Dylan squirms a little in my lap. “I’m serious. I refuse to not be okay.”

Mallory comes back into the living room carrying a glass of orange juice in one hand and a sandwich on a plate in the other. “BLT with avocado. I made them earlier for the rest of us and left some extra ingredients in case you woke up.”

“Thank you. I need coffee too.” I put the plate down and lift Dylan into Tate’s lap, but Tenley pops up from her chair like a backyard firework going off.

“I’ll make it for you!” She disappears into the kitchen.

Mallory takes Tenley’s vacated seat and I take a bite of the sandwich. It’s delicious, but they’re all watching me like I’m a baby panda at a zoo or something. I swallow and smile. “Thanks. It’s perfect.”

“You’re welcome.” Mallory smiles. “How else can we help? I’ve been through a bit of a different kind of trauma so I know that people’s idea of what you might need and what you really need can be two different things.”

A stricken look flashes over Tate's face for a heartbeat. Mallory was in a car crash last year with her best friend—Dylan's mom—who didn't survive. I swallow another bite of the sandwich. "I need to…"

Be smarter. Be stronger. Have less to lose.

“I need something to look forward to,” I say as something blooms in my memory. Something Tenley said last week. I turn my head toward the kitchen door, which is one of those swinging ones from the sixties. It’s propped open right now. “Ten! Are you still going to Vegas next week?”

“I can cancel!” she calls out and appears in the doorway with a coffee mug in her hands. “Tate and Mallory won’t care.”

“I don’t want you to cancel,” I tell her and take the cup. “I want to go with you.”

“What?” Tate looks shocked.

“I know. It’s not my jam, but I need a distraction,” I explain. “And it will be fun, right?”

Tate, Tenley, and Mallory all exchange glances. I start to get annoyed. I mean, yeah, it's not something I would have ever wanted to do before. But what I wanted to do, who I was, and the choices I made, led to me getting randomly attacked by a stranger who wanted to either mug me or rape me or kill me, or all three. So I think now is as good a time as any to do something that isn't what I always do.

“I can go somewhere else, by myself, if you guys don’t have room or don’t want me there,” I announce and put the sandwich down, ready to head back into my room.

Tate wraps an arm around my shoulder and gently pulls me against his big, hulking frame. “You are always welcome to come, Livvy. Right, Ten?”

“Yes. Of course.” Tenley nods emphatically. “We have a suite booked. Plenty of room.”

“Cool.” I reach for the sandwich and try not to shake as I bring it to my mouth.

This is what I need. I'm not going to sit here and be the same lame duck that got me targeted to begin with. And I'm going to make sure that if God forbid, this ever happens again, I have one less thing to worry about.

I’m going to go to Vegas and I’m going to lose my virginity.