Crew (Hockey Royalty #3)

24. Crew

Chapter 24

Crew

“W here is your brother?” I haven’t heard my mom sound this agitated in probably over a decade.

I watch her pace the small holding room where the camera crew asked us to wait before they interview us. They’re interviewing my dad right now. Then they’ll interview my mom and then me and Nash together for clips they can splice through a montage they’re doing tomorrow night before the game when they retire my dad’s jersey.

“Did he say anything on the drive here? Was he going somewhere? Meeting someone?” Mom wrings her hands.

“I told you, didn’t I?” I ask but I honestly don’t remember. I may have only told Dad and assumed he told my mom that Nash bailed on me. She blinks. “Nash didn’t ride with me. This morning he texted me to say he was going to make his own way here."

“What? Why?” She lifts her hands to rake through her blonde hair, a move she does when she's stressed but then remembers her hair is professionally blown out and goes back to wringing them instead. "So we don't even know if he's here. In the building? In San Diego?"

“I’m sure he is,” I reply as I sit on one of the padded chairs they have throughout the room, which looks like a friends-and-family lounge. “Nash doesn’t fuck up when it comes to hockey. Or anything.”

Other than being a good brother.

Mom sighs and shoots me a skeptical look. I swear she heard that last part that I only said in my head. I decide to change the subject. “I’m dating someone.”

She at least stops pacing at that announcement. “For real?”

"Yeah. Oh, and I found a place to live. A new place. A house in Laurel Canyon," I explain. "I'm signing the paperwork as soon as we get back."

“Please do not say this new person is living in this new place too,” Mom warns. “I love you Crew but I don’t want you rushing into anything like last time.”

“No worries there, this one is slow and steady,” I promise. “So slow in fact that I’m not introducing you guys yet.”

“Can I at least get a first name?”

“Olivia.”

“Californian? Hockey fan?”

“Mainer. And no. I mean she’s aware of hockey but I wouldn’t call her?—”

Mom gasps and grins. “Olivia Garrison?”

“How did you get that so quick?” I ask as she walks over, motioning me to stand up.

“Because I thought I saw you two making eyes a couple weeks ago at the first Quake game,” she tells me and pulls me into a hug. “I’m happy for you, Crew. She’s a nice girl from a good family and with a solid head on her shoulders and a gentle spirit.”

“She’s all of that,” I agree and give her a quick squeeze back as the door opens and my twin steps into the room.

“What are you hugging about?” Nash grumbles.

He’s wearing the deepest darkest scowl I’ve ever seen on his face, and that says something. He’s got on a button-down shirt and some pants that are wrinkled. And the shirt is buttoned wrong too. His eyes are ever so slightly bloodshot. I motion for him to move his sunglasses from his head to his eyes. He blinks but does it as Mom lets go of me and turns around.

“Your brother’s girlfriend. Crew just told me he’s dating Liv Garrison,” Mom tells him, smiling. “So glad you got here. I was beginning to panic. You’re never late.”

“And Crew is never dating again,” Nash says, a hard smile flashing on his lips that says he’s kidding, but not really. “Guess everything is a lie!”

His tone is high and bright. Too high. Too bright. My brother is not only in a mood, he’s also drunk. Or close to it. My mother tilts her head and takes in her other son. Her mouth starts to open but thankfully so does the door, bumping Nash straight in the ass. He curses. “Nash!”

A head pops in through the opening. A dude with dark wavy hair and clear blue eyes says, "Hi. Oh good both twins are here. Stephanie, we're going to interview you now. Can you follow me? Guys, I'll be back for you in a few. Thanks for your patience."

Mom shoots Nash a concerned look but follows the producer guy, who told me earlier his name was Fisher, out of the room. As soon as the door closes behind them Nash rips off his sunglasses. “So Mom and Dad know about Liv. When were you planning on telling me?”

“I figured you’d heard because Tate and Grady and other teammates know." I shrug. "Nash, have you been drinking?"

He ignores me and shoves a hand into his hair, which isn’t as neatly styled as it usually is. “So Mom gets an actual conversation but I get to rely on the hockey gossip chain?”

“I would have talked to you about it on the ride down but you didn’t want to come with me anymore,” I reply and step closer to him. But not too close. He’s got an energy I don’t recognize and I don’t like it. “Have you been drinking?”

“I had some bloody marys at lunch,” he snaps.

“Some?” I echo, horrified because this is so not like him and so not appropriate. “How many and why?”

He rolls his eyes in the overdramatic way only someone inebriated can do. “I don’t know, like four. And why? Because they didn’t know how to make a Caesar. Had to settle.”

“You knew we were going to be interviewed today.”

“Yeah. And it’s a puff piece.” He waves his hand in the air, dismissing my concern. “They want light, cute, entertaining sound clips from The Greatest’s only offspring. You are constantly telling me I’m never light or entertaining so I thought this would loosen me up so I could be the charming, funny twin for once.”

“Fucking hell, Mom’s film crew is here too, Nash. The one for the documentary.” I dig in the pocket of my coat which I tossed over one of the armchairs when we got here. I think I have a pack of gum in one of the pockets. I pull out three sticks of Big Red, which is the worst gum ever and has probably been in there for years but whatever. I hand one to him.

He shoves my hand away way more aggressive than necessary. “Keep it so you can make out with your new girlfriend later.”

“Olivia isn’t here and seriously, stop being a shit. I am trying to save this situation for Mom and Dad. And so they don’t think of you as a fuck up, okay?” I shove the stick of gum at him again. “Trust me. You don’t want that feeling.”

“Fuck you, you don’t give a rat’s ass what feelings I have or don’t have.” He slaps the gum out of my hand.

Rage ripples and swells in my gut. Fury. I stare at the gum where it landed by one of the baseboards. I force my eyes back to him. He is glaring right back at me.

“Why didn’t you tell me? About Liv. Why not just fucking talk to me?”

"You want to know the truth, Nash?" I seethe. "Because I didn't want to see the look of relief on your fucking face when you found out I'm dating a woman and not a man."

The room is dead silent. You can't hear either of us breathing. There's nothing but the gentle rhythmic hum of the ceiling fan as it swirls above us. Nash looks like I just sucker-punched him. His eyes are wide with disbelief. His mouth twisted in confusion. His skin growing redder by the second. "What the fuck did you just say?"

“You are embarrassed by me. By what I did with Anne-Marie, by who I am. I’m bisexual and that disgusts you,” I tell him. “You’ve made it clear.”

“Fuck you. I’m done. I don’t want anything to do with you. Anywhere. Ever again. Fuck you!”

He pushes past me so fast and close that our shoulders clip. I swear as pain shoots up and down my arm and I reach out and grab him because he’s heading for the door. “This is for Dad. You better not let him down.”

“Don’t touch me.”

“Nash.”

“Fuck off. You are such a stupid selfish prick,” Nash hisses and shoves me.

That fury in my belly swells like a tsunami and washes over me until I can't see straight. I shove him back and he hits the wall with a thump so hard his sunglasses tumble backward and the door rattles. And then he's in the air. I can barely register what's happening before he's hurtling through the air, inches in front of my face, fist cocked.

I’ve taken many punches before, mostly on the ice. Some I saw coming. Some I didn’t. But I’ve never taken one from Nash. The pain in my cheek is so intense that my eyes instantly blur and I fight to stay conscious.

"Holy shit!" I hear a voice, panicked and not Nash's, but I can't see who it is because I'm on the floor in the corner. I must have stumbled backward and tumbled over a chair. Nash is on top of me, so I guess I took him with me for the fall.

I swing. I make contact with something… his shoulder maybe? Nash grunts. “Fuck you!” And I resume my swinging again. This time I make contact with something softer. I feel a squish. And his groan gets much deeper and louder.

Then he’s gone and there is nothing but air in front of me. Until there’s nothing but Dad. Even through my watering eyes, I can see the ashen color of his face, the way his brown eyes have doubled in size and are bright with panic and confusion. "Oh my God. What the hell is going on?"

The door opens over his shoulder. He doesn’t even turn around. “Get out.”

Fisher disappears, closing the door behind him. Nash is in a heap in one of the chairs, blood sliding down his chin from where I split his lip. Dad grabs my shirt and shakes me. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He lets go, grabs the front of Nash's shirt, and hauls him up. "I swear to God I have never been so disappointed by anything or anyone in my entire life. This day was important to me. And your mother. That producer from the documentary just saw you two brawling with each other like mortal enemies. Why would you do that to us?"

I suddenly don’t know how we came to blows. It feels so stupid. We hurt him and Mom and for what? I look over at Nash and he’s crying. There’s a steady stream of tears pouring out of his eyes. Now I’m fucking scared.

“More importantly,” Dad goes on, “what the hell would make you two do that to each other?”

There’s a hesitant knock on the door. Dad does an about-face and marches over, cracking it just enough for his words to carry to whoever is on the other side. "I need a bucket of ice, some paper towels, and fifteen uninterrupted minutes. Do you understand? Thank you.”

He closes the door, then walks over to Nash and pulls him into a hug. My vision is blurring again but this time it’s my own tears. They’re not out of pain but out of fear. I have never seen Nash break down like this. He sobs into Dad's shoulder. Dad looks as scared as I feel. I wipe my tears and turn away. When someone knocks on the door again I pull myself together and take the ice and paper towels from the Fisher dude.

I kick the door shut with my foot and walk to the only table in the room, making space for the stuff next to the coffee and pastries sitting there. Dad pulls back from Nash who I think is pulling it together. He examines his lip. “You won’t need stitches.”

He walks up to me, grabs me by the chin gently, and tilts my head to the lights. “You are going to have one hell of a bruise, but no broken eye socket or cheekbone.”

His fingers press my tender flesh just to make sure and I wince. Nash has his head hanging, eyes on the carpet as Dad says, “I’m going out there and I’m going to distract your mother and the crews. You two are going back to your hotel and you are going to talk this out. And I am going to see the difference in you both by tomorrow morning or you won’t be involved in the ceremony. At all. I will ask that Braddock bench you both.”

“What? Dad!” I stare at him in shock. “What about the sound bites for the ceremony reel?”

"They've got enough older footage of you talking about me and my career. I will make sure it's fine," he says and then he hugs me. "I love you both but this, whatever is going on between you two, is heartbreaking, and fixing it is all that matters. So go fix it."

He lets me go and I watch him leave the room. I turn to Nash who is still staring at the carpet. “I took a rideshare here.”

“I drove. Come on.” I move to the door, and I half expect him not to follow but he does.

Luckily the hotel is less than five minutes from the arena so we are back in my room within ten minutes. I shut the door behind Nash and he walks over and stands by the window, holding ice in a dripping wet paper towel to his lip. I stare at his back. I don’t know where to start. He didn’t say anything in the car on the way over except, “Want some ice?”

I toss my car keys on the small table by the window and just say what I’m feeling. “I don’t know where to start.”

“I’m not a homophobe or whatever,” Nash says flatly and finally turns around to look at me. His lip is swollen so his words are kind of slurred. “I don’t mind that you’re bisexual, Crew. I don’t care if you’re gay or trans or anything. I can’t believe you think I’m that guy. You’re supposed to know me better than anyone.”

“You were always so cringey when the subject came up. You bristled, you got weird or shifty,” I explain.

“Because I was embarrassed,” he admits and tosses the ice and wet paper towel onto the table next to my keys. It hits with an audible splat. “Embarrassed that I found out accidentally. You didn’t confide in me. Dad assumed you would. That’s why he mentioned it, but you didn’t. So every time it came up I felt anger and shame and embarrassment that you thought you had to hide that from me. That you didn’t want to tell me. Why? Because you don’t give a shit about me.”

“Are you crazy? I love you. I want to be you when I grow up, Nash.” My voice is raw, and it cracks a little and I’m fighting tears again. “I didn’t purposely not tell you. Do you remember that night? That night I caught Anne-Marie with someone. In my bed? Our bed?”

He nods. I continue, trying hard not to let the images of my mental meltdown that night come back too vividly. I want them to stay in the past. “I don’t. Not all the details. I remember feeling shame and anger and like a fucking failure. I gave her everything she wanted, a big house, an open marriage, everything she asked for instead of a divorce. I didn’t want you, and Dad and Mom, to say I told you so. I didn’t want the world to think I had made a mistake even if I had, but I definitely didn’t want you to see me fuck up that badly.”

“Crew, she was the fuck-up not you. I would always have your back and never say I told you so.” Nash looks young and tired. Like he used to look after a particularly grueling weekend tournament when we were kids. Only now what’s put him through the wringer isn’t a hockey team, it’s me.

“What you might not know… what Dad knew but I was too ashamed to tell you is that…" I swallow, my cheek throbbing with white-hot pain. "Anne-Marie used my sexuality as a reason to end it. The reason she cheated. She's the one who wanted to try threesomes. She's the one who wanted to try a guy. I did it and I discovered a part of me I didn't know about, and I thought she supported it. I thought we were growing together. I didn't want to leave her but then she turned it all around and said, to Dad and the lawyer, that we needed to up the money despite the prenup because she would argue in court that I had lied about my sexuality. I was gay so that would void the prenup.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Nash looks horrified. His eyes darken with outrage. “Is that why you paid her so much? Why didn’t you tell me? I thought you still had feelings for her. I was so pissed it was like, why is he throwing money at her and letting her get away with everything and risking his career by burning shit and almost lighting the whole house on fire?”

“I had a bit of a breakdown from all her bullshit. I can’t explain it other than it was everything boiling over.” I sigh. “You handle feelings better than me.”

"By not letting myself have any," Nash quips, and our eyes meet.

“You bawled today and you punched me. That looked like feelings to me.” He almost smiles. “I’m sorry I drove you to that.”

“I drove myself,” Nash replies and walks to the small club chair in the other corner of the room. He drops down into it like a sack of potatoes. I lower myself the same way onto the edge of the bed. “And if I’m so much better than you at handling things then why didn’t I have a conversation with you about everything instead of just being so hurt that I made you think I was a freaking homophobe?”

“Well… bright side of this is it turns out we’re way more similar than we thought,” I say because I can’t not make light of even the heaviest of moments. “We both are fantastic at misinterpreting and assuming the worst.”

He lets out a burst of air and almost smiles but winces instead because his lip is rightfully fucked. “Is that why you’ve been bailing on everything to do with the captaincy? Because who wants to share the C with a homophobic jerk?”

I nod a little because now I feel super bad about it. “I wanted to share the C with my brother. My best friend since birth and I didn’t feel like we had that bond anymore.”

He nods and looks away. I wish I could be in his head for just a second. I think it’s about all I could handle. Nash is so intense, he vibrates at a whole other frequency. I love him but I also worry about him. “I fucked up. Something big. I’ve been trying to tell you for a while. Since Vegas.”

“Okay. So tell me now.”

Nash leans forward, then back, then forward again. “I always wanted to be you when I grew up. Carefree and cocky and so fucking sure that no matter how stupid the move, you could talk or walk or work your way out of the consequences.”

“Warning: I can’t. No one can.”

“Yeah, well I didn’t get that memo and took a stupid dare and…” His hazel eyes lock with mine. “I got married.”

“You… did you say married ?” He nods and my brain fumbles the word around in my head like a slippery football. My brother. The king of ‘I’m married to my career’ got hitched. “To… to a woman?”

He stares. “No. To a hellion. The devil’s daughter. A goddamn nightmare dressed as a daydream… I married Tenley Garrison.”

I swear on top of my black eye and bruised cheek I’m going to have carpet burn on my chin because my jaw just unhinged itself and is currently on the ground. Nash stands up. “I know. I’m a fucking idiot. She was just so fucking annoying all night teasing me and I can never come up with the smart remarks as fast as you so I just kept drinking and trying to loosen up and then next thing I know we’re in some Vegas chapel in the middle of the night and she dares me to do something stupid so, like, we got married.”

“Holy shit. I honestly… I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s fine. It’s being annulled. As soon as that train wreck finds the damn marriage certificate." Nash groans. "I can't even remember the freaking chapel. I've called like a hundred of them. I've got that lawyer you recommended looking into the Nevada marriage registry but it hasn't been filed yet I guess because she hasn't found it. So maybe we didn't actually get married. I really only remember barfing in a ditch by the Vegas sign."

“Who are you and what have you done with my brother?”

Nash wants to smile but his lip makes it impossible. But I can see it in his eyes. I reach out and hug him. He hugs me back so tightly I can probably add rib injury to the list of issues I have. But the one I don't have anymore is a broken relationship with my twin and that counts more than any bodily injury. "I love you."

“I love you too,” he says back. “And I would love you just as much if you were dating Grady Garrison instead of Liv.”

I let that one slide. He has no idea what he said is so close to the truth.

“Let’s order room service and talk about what I can do to help fix this Tenley situation,” I suggest as I let him go.

“I’ll take anything I can eat through a straw and a bucket of ice.”

I smile. And then I stop because ouch.

I order two buckets of ice.