Crew (Hockey Royalty #3)

18. Crew

Chapter 18

Crew

T he Quake arena is buzzing. The fans got here early and in droves. We’re a sell-out crowd tonight and, in Los Angeles, that’s a big deal. I should be more energized than I am, but I just walked out of a meeting with Coach, and he’s delaying the official announcement of the new captain… or captains, as he says it will be.

“Look, I just don’t want to take away from the moment,” Coach Braddock told me as I sat across from him in his office in my pre-game suit. “Let’s let this be Burroughs last hurrah, and we’ll move you two up from alternate captains to actual co-captains the next home game.”

“Sure.” It sounds logical on paper. Burroughs, our Captain, retired at the end of the season, but he’s coming back for the first home game today because we’re raising the Stanley Cup banner.

Every time a team wins the Cup they put a banner in the rafters of the arena. This is only the second banner for the Quake and it’s a major moment. Media is covering it from all over North America. So, in theory, what Coach Braddock is saying makes sense. Still, it triggers a tingling that says something is off.

“That is, of course, if you still wanna be co-captain with Nash.”

And there’s the reason my Spidey-sense was tingling. I stare straight at Coach and examine his expression. It’s not dark with annoyance or cloudy with guilt. He hasn’t decided he doesn’t want to give it to me. He’s honestly got doubts I want it. I adjust my shoulders back defensively anyway, like I've done ever since we were seven and the first person, a parent of another player on our baby hockey team, turned to my dad and asked 'So which one is better?'

“You think Nash wants it more than me?”

“I never said that.” Coach keeps his tone light even as he leans forward props his elbows on the desk and tents his fingers. He wears a thick, plain titanium wedding ring and no other jewelry. "I asked if you wanted it. Because you've seemed kind of… checked out. Not of the game. On the ice, in practices and preseason games, you've been one hundred percent. I see that clear as day. But the captaincy is more than on-ice performance, and you haven't really stepped up. You gave more as Alternate Captain last year than you are giving this year as figurative Captain."

“I didn’t realize that I was still auditioning for the position,” I say and yeah, it sounds kinda bitchy. Coach’s raised eyebrows are his way of telling me he thinks so too. "I was overly worried about the wrist and I'm in the process of trying to find a new house. And it was preseason. If ever there was a time to be distracted, it's before it counts, right? Now that the season is here, I'm fully focused and ready to lead, Coach. I want to lead.”

He looks unconvinced but he nods. “If you don’t want it, that’s fine. It doesn’t mean you’re any less accomplished than your brother. Know that. You’ll always have an A even if you don’t want a C.”

"I want the C," I say it because it's like a reflex more than an actual desire. This is part of the plan. My dad has big endorsements lined up for the hockey twins, who are co-captains, not just the hockey brothers who play together. Our whole image has been built on the fact that we do everything together. I can't… I mean I don't want to bail on this joint position, which would be one of the first co-captaincies in league history.

“I want it,” I repeat and we both stand up.

“Your dad here tonight?” Coach asks as he comes around his desk to walk to his office door with me.

“Yeah.”

I reach for the door handle as a wry smile blooms on Coach’s rugged face. “Guess I should go say hello. He’s a hell of a guy, your dad, but it still chaps my ass I wasn’t able to beat his overall goal record.”

I smile. “No one is going to beat that for a very long time.”

“So that’s not on your bucket list?”

“I’m not in this league to best my dad,” I reply. “I genuinely just want to play the game my way. And just enjoy the ride.”

Coach shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “That’s an amazing attitude but not one that the world wants you to have. When it comes to this sport, the media and the fans are always trying to pit sons against fathers. Ask mine. It’s why my son Dec stopped playing.”

“I think Nash felt the pressure more than me,” I tell Coach as we turn the corner of the arena hallway towards the VIP. “But never enough to quit.”

“I have a feeling you two wouldn’t quit for anything.”

“Wouldn’t quit what?”

I look over my shoulder and Nash is in the hallway a few feet behind us. He must have come out of the restroom. I smile. “Hockey. No matter how much pressure there is.”

“Yeah. Never,” Nash says solemnly like he’s taking the Boy Scout oath or something.

“You boys better get ready,” Coach says before he walks into the lounge and over to my dad who is in the corner of the room, arm around my mom’s back.

I give them both a quick wave and head to the dressing room. They got to town last night and Nash and I had dinner with them so it’s not our first time seeing them. Still Nash hesitates before following me the few steps across the hall to the dressing room entrance. “Should we go in and let the staff snap a pic or two?”

“You mean Christine?” I question, and he nods. Nash rarely refers to the back office staff by their names. He’s always using departments. “PR lady” or “the marketing guy” or “Staff” and it makes me nuts. “She got shots when we walked in and Dad was there to greet us. She says she’s more interested in covering the San Diego game and ceremony next month. Wants to put a Quake spin on it so the Saints don’t take all the glory.”

“Dad played for the Saints,” Nash notes the obvious. “It’s their glory.”

"Yeah, but she says there's a Quake angle, with the way we're making our own legacy away from Dad's team and history," I explain. "Speaking of history, I assume Coach talked to you about his plans for delaying the C announcement?”

Nash nods tersely. “Yeah. And I bet you told him it’s okay, didn’t you?”

“Well, basically, yeah.” I shrug as we dodge half-naked teammates to make it to our own dressing room stalls that are right beside each other this year. “You didn’t? I mean it’s his call, Nash. He’s the coach.”

"I said I was disappointed because it would have been great to do it today and also finally clear up all the media speculation.” He sighs as he shrugs out of his pale gray suit jacket. “But I guess the speculation doesn’t bother you since you hardly talk to the press. I’m the one fielding all the Captaincy questions.”

“I’ve been asked a few times,” I reply defensively. “I just don’t let it bother me.”

“Must be nice not to care enough to be bothered.”

"Stop being a dick, Nash," I snap. "I care. Just because I don't hinge my entire life and personality on it doesn't mean I don't care. Now will you shut the fuck up so I can get ready in peace and enjoy the moment we're about to have? It's going to be epic to watch that banner go up with or without a C on my jersey.”

He mutters something I don't hear and turns his back to me as he unbuttons his dress shirt. Good. He's stewing in private. I act like he isn't here as I get out of my suit and into my game gear. I joke with Collingwood tease Hendrix and take over the playlist pumping out the pre-game tunes through the speakers. Everyone is in high spirits except for Nash.

We're playing the Seattle Winterhawks in the opener. They've got Grady Garrison as their goalie. He's another of Tate's billion cousins. I try not to think about facing him on the ice. I definitely avoid thinking about the fact that he is also related to Olivia. It's weird to think of her and him being relatives since I've seen them both naked.

The intro is complete chaos. The crowd is on fire and so loud that I swear my eardrums will ring all the way into next week. Everyone settles down a little as the montage of our last season plays on the Jumbotron. The entire current roster is lined up at center ice staring up at the screen. I feel every moment deep in my chest and I swell with pride. God, it was a magical season. And for the first time, I'm not exhausted thinking about doing it again. I'm energized.

Our former Captain, Burroughs, walks onto the ice when the video ends and the crowd roars. After going down the line and hugging every guy he hugs me and stands next to me since I'm the last in line. He leans in. "Do it again, Westy One."

Burroughs has been with the team since Nash and I were drafted and he nicknamed us Westy One and Westy Two. I smile but it’s tinged with sadness as I realize we’ll likely never hear those nicknames again. End of an era.

The banner goes up and I know I can’t be the only one fighting emotion. I look up as I skate to the bench. The friends and family section is to the left of our tunnel and there, in the middle of it, is my mom and dad. Mom waves like an excited teenager and wipes her eyes. Dad nods with a proud grin on his face and gives us both a goofy, typical dad thumbs up. My gaze drops and I see a row of familiar faces. The Garrisons. Jordan and his wife and Tenley. Mae Garrison is beside Tenley. Also, Devin Garrison, Tate's uncle is there and Liv's mom. I recognize her mom because I saw her when I was younger at hockey stuff that my dad and the Garrisons attended. Nash and I always begged to tag along. I guess Liv never wanted to go to those things, like league-wide charity events or All-Star games because I would have met her sooner. And two gray-haired people who must be the grandparents. And… between the grandparents, handing them both tissues as they clap and shed tears, is Olivia.

I wasn’t expecting to see her here tonight, because she notoriously avoids hockey stuff, but it’s a very pleasant surprise. We lock eyes and I flash her a grin. She looks away, but not before I catch a hint of a smile on her lips too.

Unfortunately, the rest of the night isn't filled with pleasant surprises, just unpleasant ones. Like some shitty penalties against us, two very sloppy goals by the Winterhawks, and no response from us, sloppy or otherwise. The game ends with a loss. Two-nothing. We didn’t even score. I only got two shots on net and while one hit the crossbar the other was easily gloved by their Grady.

Coach Braddock is more than a little grumbly when he joins us in the locker room after the game. "Not the start we wanted. It's the end that matters and to ensure we immediately turn this around and are in playoff position at the end of the season, I want everyone in the breakdown room tomorrow at eight."

There’s not even a murmur of protest even though I know inside, the guys are groaning as hard as their muscles. I am. The breakdown room is where we go over footage of previous games. I have a feeling we will be painfully dissecting every minute of this disaster to ensure it doesn’t happen again. Coach heads for the door but not before turning to me and pointing. “I want you taking press today. Nash too. And Garrison and Collingwood. Not Hendrix though. You hit the showers.”

Duke nods without lifting his head. He should have had both those goals that sailed over his left shoulder. The fact that Coach doesn't want him to own up to that with the press is weird. He's usually all about accountability.

I towel the sweat off my face and throw a cap on my damp hair. As the media files in I also pull off my pads and my Under Armor. It’s ridiculous but I get less of the hard-hitting questions when I’m half naked with my ink on display. And I’ll use any trick in the book right now, to make this go easier.

The media is like a school of sharks that smell blood in the ocean. They act like this one loss has set the tone for the rest of the season. Like we’re done before we even began. They love to tear down the winners. I hate this part of the job, but I manage to keep my answers positive, calm, and unbothered. Nash does the same but that’s Nash no matter what. Robot.

After a dip in an ice tank and a scalding shower, I'm shocked to find that the VIP Lounge is still hopping. Usually after a loss the fans and special guests clear out rather quickly. But there are still at least fifty people in there as I saunter in. And the first person I notice is Olivia. She's sitting at a high-top table with Tenley and Mae.

Olivia's hair is wavy like she used a curling iron and half up in the front. She’s wearing jeans and Tate’s jersey again. And the fact that I wish it was mine annoys me. When someone wears your jersey it’s a sign of attachment I shouldn’t want with a bed buddy. I’ve never wanted it with one before.

“Hey! Come here often?”

The deep voice is directly behind me and when I turn I see nothing but chest. Well, a broad manly chest covered in a soft gray checkered dress shirt, opened at the top to reveal skin dotted with freckles. Grady Garrison is a ridiculous six-foot-five. The tallest in the league. When my eyes reach his face I find it smiling. Warmly. But also very casually. Grady is firmly in the closet and intends to stay there. He told me this the one time we hooked up at the All-Star game last year.

"Yeah. I come here all the time, but not usually too lose to a giant redhead," I reply and flash him a friendly smile because I've always liked Grady in a friendly way. The hookup was nice but there are no lingering feelings about it. I can’t say the same for his cousin. “You think just because your last name is Garrison you can infiltrate our private sanctuary?”

My tone is confrontational, in jest, which is why it doesn’t make Grady bristle. He runs a hand through his dark copper hair and then scratches his wild ginger beard and says, without missing a beat, “Yeah the name helps. But you should know by now I’m all about infiltrating private places. It’s what I do best.”

Oh okay. He’s going straight there. Do not pass go, do not collect a hundred dollars. Just straight to innuendo-ville. I did not mean to get on this train tonight. My eyes flick over to Olivia who has noticed I’m here. She’s sipping what looks like a Coke and eyeing me.

“If I recall, I was the one doing the infiltrating,” I reply quietly.

“Well if you want to go over the details, I’m at the Beverly Wilshire tonight,” Grady replies. “Team flew out but I’m staying an extra night to see family and I have a photoshoot for Bauer tomorrow.”

“I should be all in,” I say and pause. Because I’m not. Grady was a great time. He has the added bonus of being in the closet and wanting to stay there so there’s zero worry with him. But after being with Olivia… “But I kind of have this thing with someone at the moment and they’re here and…”

“Say no more. You already have plans.” Grady doesn’t look the least bit bothered or wounded by the information. “We’re cool.”

“Good. Thanks.”

“It helps that I just kicked your ass.”

“You barely lifted a finger,” I argue. “We didn’t give you the chance to count in that win.”

“Ouch.” His giant hand goes to the center of his chest like he’s been wounded. “That hurts more than knowing your new bed buddy is here.”

“No. They aren’t. I mean I did hook up with someone here but have no plans to do it again,” I explain and now his eyes are narrowing. “It’s just awkward because… well, I just… it’s awkward.”

“Hey! You giving Grady a hard time?” Olivia asks because suddenly she’s right in front of us, reaching past me to hug her cousin. “Great game. Congrats on the shutout? I’m allowed to say that word now, right? Because the game is over?”

"Thanks, Livvy, and yes. Saying shutout is only bad luck if the game isn't finished. You're basically cursing the goalie to let one in.” He squeezes her tightly with a warmth that lights up his eyes. Now I’m jealous he gets to hug her. When Olivia turns to me she smiles and gives me a quick jerky wave but nothing else. Which is fair. “Where’s the fam jam?”

“Back corner, except for Dad and Uncle J. They’re talking with the press.” She looks at me again, reaches out, and gently but firmly pokes me square in the middle of my chest. “With your dad.”

“What is it? Oldies night?” Grady quips.

“Shooting a quick promo for Bengay,” Olivia adds with a dazzling snarky smile.

“As long as it’s not for Viagra, it’s cool,” I add and they both gasp and follow it up with groans. “They’re getting celebrity endorsements now. A retired basketball player and a football running back from the nineties have both done Viagra ads.”

“Oh gross. Oh my God. I’m going to have nightmares!” Olivia proclaims.

“Liv are you getting scared by the big bad hockey player?” a teasing voice asks, and I see Olivia’s mom walking up behind her daughter and hugging her lightly from behind. Liv does what daughters do after the age of thirteen and rolls her eyes while struggling to break free. So her mom turns her attention to me. “Don’t tell me you didn’t get your dad’s disarming charm? I mean, you clearly got his hockey skills, but is that it?”

"Hello, Mrs. Garrison."

“Caplan-Garrison,” Liv and her mother correct me at the same time.

“Sorry. Mrs. Caplan-Garrison.” I extend a hand and she shakes it more firmly than most men. “Nice to see you again.”

I have met Callie Caplan-Garrison a few times but I still feel like we should be formal. Especially now. She smiles as brightly and prettily as her daughter. “Just call me Callie. It’s easiest. Sorry about the loss. Tough one, but don’t let it steal any momentum. You guys are Cup champions for a reason.”

“Thanks. You should be a motivational coach,” I smile at her. “And sorry for scaring your daughter.”

“Shut it,” Olivia warns with a nervous laugh.

“What exactly did you say?” Callie wants to know.

“He was talking about Viagra,” Grady replies for me and I fight the urge to cringe. I do not need to be talking boner pills with my bed buddy’s mom. Or my best friend’s aunt. And she’s both.

“That will do it." Callie sighs and kisses her daughter's cheek. "My precious flower."

“I can talk penis pills Mom,” Olivia blurts out a little too loudly and a couple of nearby guests glance over. She flushes but keeps going. “He was talking about them and Dad though, and even you have to admit that is not something a daughter needs to hear.”

“Devin takes Viagra?” Tenley asks innocently, and way too loudly, as she stumbles into the conversation.

“No Ten, he does not. The man needs no help. He’s still as… capable as he was the day I married him,” Callie explains to everyone.

“Oh God, how did we get here?” Grady scrubs his face, which is turning as pink as Olivia’s already is.

“How did we get here?” Tenley repeats and her body quakes in over-exaggerated shudders. “And how do we get somewhere else?”

“I made a joke about endorsement deals for the retired players and it’s somehow spiraled.” I take a step away. “I should go find my mom and brother before I say something else that lands us all on TMZ Sports.”

“Don’t kid. That shitty site almost ruined me,” Mallory adds as she walks over with Mae. “Crew have you met Mae? Callie and Devin’s youngest.”

“Mayhem Garrison,” I say holding out my hand to shake hers. “The next big thing to happen to hockey.”

"Shut up," Mae covers her face with her hands for a moment and then sighs looks up at me sheepishly, and shakes my hand. "You read the article?"

“It was in Sports Illustrated Mae, not the Boston College school newspaper," I say. "Of course, I read it. Also, Tate mailed everyone on the team copies this summer when it came out."

Mae Garrison was given a two-page article about being a female goalie on the men's hockey team at Boston College where, last year, she crushed the record for most shut-outs in a season. Rumor is they wanted to photograph her in a bathing suit and sandwich the article into the Swimsuit Issue but she refused, which makes her even more badass in my opinion.

My eye leaves Mae, and I see my dad walking in with Jordan and Devin. He’s making his way to my mom who is by the candy bar, no doubt popping Sour Patch Kids into her mouth since they’re her favorite. “I should get going. Good seeing all of you again.”

My eyes linger on Olivia and she smiles just a little bit. Just enough to give me a chub in my dress pants. I turn but Tenley grabs my arm. “Wait! I wanted to say Shelby says hi.”

“What?” I turn back to face her and Tenley does a little excited jump grabbing my attention. Her big blue eyes are wide and she claps. “Right! How did I almost forget? Shelby, my cousin that you were interested in, she’s single. She never got the chance to make that clear the night you introduced yourself to her. Anyway, she’s coming back to town in a couple of weeks for a visit.”

Every single set of Garrison eyeballs is burning into me right now. But the two pairs I feel like hot pokers on my skin are Olivia's and Grady's. He clears his throat but his voice comes out in a low rumble. "I'm sorry do we mean Shelby, my sister ?”

I wouldn’t exactly call his tone menacing, but I wouldn’t not call it menacing either. I can't look him in the eye. I can't look Olivia in the eye either so I stare at Tenley. "I didn't… I never said I was interested. I was meeting her, yeah, I mean I haven't met all the Garrisons. Every time I think I have, you guys multiply or something. I don’t know. Anyway, I… I’m glad she’s coming back to town. I hope you guys have fun. She seems like a great girl.”

“She’s the best,” Mallory says.

“A sweetheart,” Tenley chirps and nudges Olivia. “Livvy tell him something awesome about Shelby.”

"Shelby is great." Liv's voice is small and unconvincing. "I need a glass of water."

She leaves.

“She’s my sister ,” Grady repeats.

“Oh don’t go being all protective older brother." Tenley waves her hand in front of Grady's face like she's trying to swat a fly. "Shelby can handle herself just fine and you and Crew are friends. I will never understand dudes who don't want the people they love with the people they love. I mean, hello that's a no-brainer."

“Ten has a point,” Mallory adds. “I mean, I would love my brother Emmett to settle down with one of my friends. I’m sure Crew would love for Nash to date someone he is friends with.”

“Crew wouldn’t dare inflict Nash and his wet noodle personality on a friend,” Tenley mutters lowly but I catch it.

“It’s because they don’t want to think about their friends naked with their siblings,” Callie tells Tenley. “Trust me I used to want to puke when I would think of Big Bird naked on top of my sweet, kind, gentle older sister.”

“And now we’re back to talking about sex and our parents,” Grady groans, then turns and walks away.

“Mom! No one needs to picture other people having sex. Just don’t do that, for anyone, especially Uncle Jordan. Gross," Mae barks out. I guess Callie calls Uncle Jordan Big Bird.

“What about me is gross?” Jordan asks, walking over.

“I hear Viagra is looking for ambassadors, Big Bird, you in?” Callie blurts out and as everyone erupts in groans and complaints, I disappear into the crowd and swim through it until I find my own, much tamer, family.

Dad is happy to see me and hugs me and tells me to shake off the loss. Mom kisses my forehead and rubs the back of my head and tells me how proud she was to see the banner go up. Nash is Nash, silent and moody. He takes losses like they’re his responsibility alone.

We make our way out of the building, curling our way through the concrete halls to the elevator that goes up to player parking. My mom is chattering away about life in Nova Scotia and her business. My mom started her own shoe company when Nash and I were babies and it’s been a complete success, as my dad will tell anyone and everyone. He’s beyond proud of her. So are Nash and I.

As soon as we step into the parking area Nash comes to a halt and lets out what seems to be a sigh of relief.

“What?”

He looks at me like I’m insane for not reading his thoughts. Sometimes I think he believes the hype the media spews that we’re telepathic and that’s why we always know when and where the other is going to pass the puck. “The wind!”

Nash jabs a finger into the air. I look around the garage, the side facing the street is wide open, as we’re several levels up near the roof of the arena. There is a wind swirling through the openings, picking up garbage and leaves. As the wind hits my face it’s warm. “Santa Ana winds.”

"Yes! Right?" Nash is too excited for a California weather phenomenon that hits every fall. He's got his phone out and is Googling it because he has to be one hundred percent certain. "Yes. Yes! It's the Santa Anas! That explains the loss."

The Santa Anas are warm winds that can occur sporadically from October through March in California. They're rumored to mess with people the way they say a full moon does.

“Those winds are worse than mercury in retrograde,” Dad adds.

I roll my eyes and Mom laughs. “You two and your superstitions.”

“What caused the loss was the fact that you and I couldn’t find the back of the net to save our lives. Tate was skating like an amateur. Our top goalie is out and Hendrix was playing like he was made of Swiss cheese.”

“It’s the Anas.”

Nash has spoken, and I roll my eyes again. We make our way to our cars. Mom and Dad are parked across from Nash who is two cars over from me. “Enough about the winds, your dad and I have to talk to you.”

My parents stand side by side in front of their car and my mom loops her arm through Dad’s. I get a weird feeling in my gut.

“Okay…” Nash and I say in unison with the same trepidatious tone.

“We were approached to do this thing,” Dad says and he seems as uneasy as I feel. Never a good sign. “It’s not something we would normally consider but… I mean it’s similar to something I’ve done before but on the team, you know. Never thought… but it’s more about your mom and I left the decision to her.”

“Don’t make decisions in the Santa Anas. They mess with your brain chemistry,” Nash interrupts.

“I made the decision before the winds, Nash,” Mom says and frowns as the winds in question gust and her blonde hair, which is cut in a simple, straight bob flies up and strands smack her in the cheek. She brushes them back into place before continuing. “We’re doing a documentary series.”

“More accurately, we’ve agreed to be filmed for a pilot a documentary series. If it gets picked up, we’ll be in the series,” Dad adds. He’s always the one who talks details.

“For what? Why? How? When?”

“Nash, chill,” I mutter and turn to my mom and wait as patiently as I can for an explanation.

To be honest, I'm just as shocked as my brother. This is out of character for them. As Dad mentioned, there was a documentary about hockey that featured the Saints when he was on them. It was right after he got married, when Mom was pregnant with us, and for years afterward Dad bitched about the process and how much he hated it.

He also had some seriously bad experiences with the press when he was dating Mom, and it almost broke them up, so I wouldn’t think she’d jump at the chance to be on display in anything like this. Guess I was wrong.

“It’s covering hockey life from the family’s perspective,” she explains and she actually sounds excited about it. “You know I have a pretty unique perspective because I grew up in a hockey family and I married a hockey player.”

“So this is a WAGs thing?” Nash looks like he just got a giant whiff of cat piss or something equally rancid.

“No. Not exclusively. They’ll also be featuring hockey moms and dads at a junior level. And retired players, like your dad,” Mom explains. “And some really difficult cases like the families coping with long-term traumatic brain injuries and stuff.”

“So… it’s not another Housewives type of garbage?” Nash confirms.

“Absolutely not,” Mom says firmly. “I agreed to do it because it wasn’t that, and I can showcase my company and how players’ wives have their own careers and ambitions. And I trust the producers because it’s being championed by Tenley Garrison.”

Well, that’s a shocker. I wonder why Tate has never mentioned this. Neither has Olivia. Or Grady.

“Jordan Garrison is signing on too,” Dad interjects. “And Landon Casco and his family.”

"He didn't mention it," I mutter. Landon is on Injury Reserve and not currently playing since he was diagnosed with leukemia at the end of last season. But he's still in contact with the team regularly, despite opting for treatment in San Francisco near his family. I text him a lot privately too because he's a good friend.

“I won’t do it,” Nash blurts out suddenly. “Dad, we’ve talked about this before. It’s not good for our brand. You said it. Stick to only sports publications and stations for interviews and never talk personal stuff. We don’t even have social media for that reason.”

“We’re not asking you two to take an active part,” Mom assures us. “But they will be filming your dad’s jersey retirement ceremony.”

“Fuck.”

“Nash!” I snap because for the golden robot boy to swear it’s a big deal, and this really isn’t. I mean sure, I don’t like it either, but it’s Mom and Dad’s decision and it’s not like Nash is featured. He’ll be in this one segment. “It’ll be one extra camera at an event filled with them. Stop being a bitch.”

“Really, Mr. Torchalicious?” Nash snarks and glares at me. “You think more cameras on you is a good idea. Imagine if they’d been filming this when your wife left you and you lit your house on fire.”

“Are you really fucking going there?” I bark. “Shut up!”

“Both of you stop. Now.” Dad’s voice is deep and hard. He’s not messing around. His dark eyes dart around the parking garage, which is empty except for the security guard down at the other end. “Never mind the winds, you two are never going to lead a team together if you snap like this other everything.”

“We weren’t going to say anything but I see no choice now,” Mom adds and her blue eyes are filled with worry. “Something’s changed between you two and I don’t like it. It hurts my heart to see you two like this.”

“I haven’t changed anything,” Nash says. “Not how I talk to him or what I say or what I do. He’s different and I don’t know why.”

I grit my teeth so hard my jaw aches. I will not get into this here. And not now, with Mom and Dad. And I just kind of had a grenade lobbed at this thing with Olivia/Shelby/Grady and I need to figure out how to clean up the mess. So I just want to extract myself from this as soon as possible so I can think.

“I’m cool with being on camera a little for this thing you’re doing Mom,” I say and lean in and kiss her cheek. I hug my dad briefly and nod at Nash, trying not to scowl as I do it. “Sorry. I really need to get home. Let’s talk more tomorrow.”

“See?” I hear Nash say like a whining child as I slide into the driver’s seat. I punch the Start Engine button to drown out anything else he might say about me.

Nash doesn’t know why I’m pissed off at him? For real? He’s the biggest over-thinker I know and he couldn’t piece this mystery together? I think deep down Nash knows why I’m angry and he feels too guilty to admit it. I mean what would that conversation even be?

Me: Hey so I know you know I’m bi and you haven’t said a word about it.

Nash: Yeah well it was either tell you I think you’re disgusting or keep quiet.

Me: Thought so. Thanks for being honest. Been nice knowing you. I’m asking for a trade now, from this team and from this family. Bye.

I do not have the time or emotional energy for that right now. I have to figure out what to do about both Olivia and Grady thinking I want Shelby. That’s not a misunderstanding I can let simmer because, even though they’re both supposed to be nothing but bed buddies, I don’t want them hurt. And then there’s the fact that they’re both related and don’t know about each other.

Sigh. How did my uncomplicated life get so complicated?