Van2, page 12
When warm-ups are complete, we head back to the locker room for last-minute instructions from Coach West. I have to admit, his pep talks are really good. He’s not the type of person who speaks because he likes to hear himself. He chooses only words that he knows will impact us and by the time we take the ice again for the start of the game, we’re all fueled by hype and adrenaline.
From the first face-off, the energy in the arena is electric. The Cold Fury are at the top of their division, same as us. They’re striving to take back the championship rights from the Arizona Vengeance, who won the last two years. We’re a cobbled-together Cinderella team that no one thought would be this good.
It’s late in the first period when there’s a line shift and I’m back on the ice with Mason, Dillon, Evgeny and Anders. We’re getting more in sync with each passing day and we transition smoothly, right into the defensive zone.
Anders takes point, Evgeny on the left and Dillon on the right. Mason and I split the defense and I station in front of the net, trying to block Max Fournier’s field of vision.
That’s when I see him.
Lucas is out on the ice, which hasn’t happened yet and he’s not out playing with his regular line. I’m not sure if he came out on his own or if his coach sent him, but when our eyes make contact, I know he’s going to take a shot at me.
It happens when the puck gets caught up on the boards right behind the net. I get to it first, but then I’m slammed into from behind, a stick jamming painfully in my mid-back. The puck is at my skates and I’m trying to knock it loose, but Lucas is tying me up.
“Come on, asshole. Let’s me and you have a go,” he snarks as his stick chops at my skates in what looks like a reasonable attempt to free the puck, but he catches my leg and it fucking hurts.
I toss an elbow back at him and it connects. He shoves me against the boards. “Can’t wait for Simone to be done with you. Get herself a real man. Someone who’s not a pansy-ass.”
Rage flows through my veins and I spin on him. Lucas smiles with triumph, immediately tosses his gloves to the ice and pulls up one sweater sleeve, then the other. It’s the universal sign that he’s ready to go and I have no choice but to drop my own gloves.
The crowd roars its approval, not just because their new defenseman has quite the record of pounding other players into the ground, but because everyone knows we’re brothers-in-law. Granted, no one knows the animosity.
The rest of the team stays clear, as do the refs, letting us have a go.
We circle each other to the left of the net and as if by some pre-planned moment, we crash into each other. We’re both seasoned fighters and I know his style well since we were defensive line mates together for the Cold Fury. Normally, I’d say I’m the meaner of the two and that gives me the advantage, but Lucas is riding his heroic white steed tonight, trying to avenge his sister.
I grab his sweater at his chest and throw a quick right cross. It glances off Lucas’s helmet but he strikes fast, his fist at my left cheek, hitting me so hard I feel the skin tear. I pull back my arm and let it fly, landing two solid hits to his head, although still mostly helmet. I’m pulling back for a third when something slams into me from the side so hard, my skates go out from under me. I hit the ice with a jarring impact and a huge body lands right on top of me, knocking the air from my lungs. I focus and see it’s Max looking at me through his goalie mask before he’s pulled off by the refs.
I jump up, ready to go at Lucas again but see that both teams have mobbed each other, having taken offense to Max jumping into the fight. There’s a lot of shoving and cursing, name-calling and dares to drop gloves. Eventually, the refs get players sent back to their respective benches, and all the while, the crowd screams for blood. The Titans’ fans are not happy I got double-teamed, but none of them know I had that coming.
I skate to the bench while the melee is being sorted out and let one of the trainers slap two butterflies on the cheek wound. I then immediately skate toward the penalty box.
Lucas is already sitting in his little glass prison, hatred radiating from his expression as he watches me. We’re both given five-minute major penalties for fighting and to my surprise, Max is given one too. He doesn’t serve the penalty, though, but rather a player of their coach’s choosing joins Lucas.
This is fortuitous as it puts us up a player, and with the advantage, we capitalize when Foster scores a goal just eighteen seconds into the power play. When our penalties are up and we come out of our respective boxes, I dig the knife in just a bit as Lucas and I skate past each other. “Thanks for the goal.”
♦
We’re all riding high after defeating the Cold Fury, so much so that I’ve been able to put Simone out of my mind for a good half hour while I shower and change. I’ve enjoyed the recaps of great plays, snapping towels on asses and the boisterous vibe going on.
“Van,” Boone calls out as I gather my duffel and head for the exit. “Mario’s. Meet you there for a beer?”
I shake my head. “I’m out, man. Going home to bed. I’m exhausted.”
Of course, going home means going to the hotel I checked into.
“Old man,” he taunts, and I don’t let it get to me.
I throw a hand up in the air. “See you at practice tomorrow.”
I leave the good vibes and excited banter behind, stepping out into the hallway, and come up short as I see Max waiting there. He’s clearly fresh out of the shower with his dark hair the same color as Simone’s wet and his hazel eyes staring at me warily. He’s in street clothes and not a suit, and that means he must be staying here in Pittsburgh for the night. I presume to visit with Simone and Malik.
“Here for round two?” I ask as I move past him and head toward the players’ entrance into the parking garage.
“You’re welcome, by the way,” he replies as he follows me.
That stops me and I turn to face him. “What should I be thanking you for?”
“For stopping Lucas from killing you. It’s why I took you down to the ice so the refs would stop the fight.”
Huh? So he wasn’t trying to kill me along with his brother. Interesting.
I shrug and turn away. “Well, thanks.”
“Come on, man,” Max says, jogging past me and getting in my way so I’m brought up short. “Give me five minutes of your time to talk about Simone.”
“What’s to talk about? I’ve asked for a divorce, she’s clinging on without any hope. Lucas and Malik hate me. So should you.”
“But does Simone?” Max asks pointedly.
I don’t even think to lie to him. “No. She still loves me.”
“And you still love her.”
“Always,” I admit with no shame. “Which is why she can’t be with me.”
Max lowers his gaze, shaking his head with a smirk plastered on his face.
“What?” I demand with irritation. Like he has the most obvious answer and I can’t see it.
“I’m going to make a prediction,” Max says with a chuckle as he steps in and claps a hand on my shoulder. I stare at him, teeth clenched. “I predict that everything is going to turn out just fine.”
Meaning that Simone will move on and have a wonderful and fulfilled life without me? “What makes you say that?”
“Because you both love each other,” he replies, letting his hand fall away. “You can’t love each other like that and let it go.”
“Why is everyone so insistently ignoring the fact that I am, in fact, letting her go, despite being in love with her? I’ve made my decision. It’s done.”
“If you say so,” Max says with a grin. “But I predict you’ll wise up because you’ll have faith that you and Simone can handle anything as long as you’re together, and I also have complete confidence that my sister will welcome you back with open arms. She did it once before, remember?”
Yeah… I remember. She was too good a woman for me and still is, for that matter.
“Good luck,” Max says, pivoting and walking away. He takes three paces and then turns to face me, as if he has just one more thing to say. “Oh, and see you at the next family get-together.”
I snort because that’s ridiculous. “Whatever.”
CHAPTER 15
Simone
Anna kisses Malik on his neck before she pushes up off the love seat. “I’m exhausted and going to bed. Love you.”
“Love you back.” Malik holds on to her hand until their arms stretch and fingers slide against each other before breaking apart.
“Good night, Anna,” I say, and Lucas and Max echo me.
When the door to the master bedroom closes, we’re all silent for a moment. The Fournier siblings are all together in Malik and Anna’s living room. They’re staying the night and flying back commercial tomorrow, taking the opportunity to spend time here with us all in the same city. It’s close to midnight, but I’ve got nowhere to be tomorrow. I decided to stay here tonight so we could all hang out as long as we wanted to.
I know Lucas and Max are exhausted as they played a well-fought game. Lucas is currently sprawled out on the big couch and I’m sitting on the floor with my back resting against it near his feet. Max is cocked back in the recliner and Malik is still sunk into the love seat Anna just vacated.
“Get me a beer, runt,” Lucas demands, moving his knee to bump me in the back of my head. He’s got two empties sitting on the coffee table.
“Bite me,” I reply.
“Twerp.” Lucas swings his legs over my head and rolls off the couch. “Anyone else want one?”
“I’ll take another,” Max says, draining the last of his bottle.
Malik lifts his chin. “Me too.”
“Sis?” Lucas inquires.
I hold up my bottle of water. “I’m good.”
I’d told them earlier I had an upset stomach and wasn’t in the mood to drink. I was patted on the head while they got busy with the beer. This is typical for a Fournier get-together. It’s not often we’re all under the same roof, but after the parents go to bed, the kids usually stay up late and talk. In the last handful of years, that’s included significant others, but Max’s wife, Jules, and Lucas’s wife, Stephanie, stayed back in Raleigh with my adorably perfect nieces and nephews. And, of course, Van’s not here.
No, he’s holed up in a hotel somewhere, avoiding me.
When Lucas comes back in, he delivers each beer and then plops onto the couch, but this time he doesn’t lie down. He pats the available seat cushion. “Get your ass up here and let’s talk.”
It’s not the offer to give up the hard floor that has me dubious, but the tone in his voice that sounds like this was preplanned.
I glance around, eyeballing Malik and Max, and yup… they’re no longer casually slouched in their chairs but sitting up straight. Apparently, they’ve been waiting for Anna to go to bed to gang up on me about Van.
“Actually,” I say as I stand, stretching and giving a huge fake yawn. “Kind of tired. I’m going to bed.”
I try to walk past Lucas but he grabs the back of my shirt and slings me toward the seat next to him. I can’t stop my momentum and the minute my butt hits the cushion he points at me. “Stay.”
“Woof, woof,” I mutter, but I stay. I scoot back into the corner of the couch and cross my legs. “But I’m going to talk first.” I look pointedly at Lucas. “You’re an asshole for fighting Van tonight.”
“It’s just hockey,” he says smoothly.
“You’re full of shit. Everyone saw you instigate it and it was uncalled for. Christ, Lucas… you split his cheek open.”
“Max was in on it too,” Lucas says petulantly. “Why am I the only one getting yelled at?”
I snort. “Because Max ended the fight.”
Lucas’s gaze snaps to Max and he narrows his eyes. “You weren’t joining me to avenge our sister?”
“Sorry, dude,” Max says, shaking his head. “I was stopping it and the only way was to get Van on the ground.”
“You traitor,” Lucas exclaims dramatically.
I blow Max a kiss. “It’s why you’re my favorite brother.”
“Whatever.” Lucas scoffs and faces me. “But now that we have you alone and can talk some sense into you, I want you to give Van the divorce he’s seeking. He’s killing you slowly… death by a thousand paper cuts. Can’t stand the fucker and I say good riddance.”
He doesn’t elaborate but after that kind of statement, what more needs to be said? My head turns to Malik who I suspect has similar feelings.
Malik’s expression is sympathetic, but he shrugs. “You tried, Simone. Now it’s time to move on. While I love having you in the same city as me, you have a career back in Vermont that you should go back to. Dive into work. Take your mind off things.”
“And divorce Van?” I ask for clarification.
While his expression is still soft in understanding, his nod is firm. “Yes. And divorce Van.”
I swing my head toward Max, now perched on the edge of the recliner. He’s got his elbows on his knees, beer bottle held loosely in one hand. “And what about you?” I ask.
“I want you to be happy.”
“Me too,” I say with a bitter laugh. “And to me, that’s saving my marriage. Yet you want me to give up and not fight?”
Max nods at Malik and Lucas. “I agree with these bozos. I think you’ve done everything you can. I don’t agree you should give up hope, but I think you should give up trying. Van knows how you feel. It’s on him now.”
Always the voice of reason. Lucas and Malik are the hotheads, but Max has always been so steady, you can’t help but take his opinions seriously.
I grab a pillow and put it on my lap, tugging at the tasseled fringes. “I’m going to ask all three of you the same question and I want you to be honest with me.”
“Shoot,” Lucas says, draping his arm over the back of the couch and angling more my way.
I address him first as he’s the most vocal about disliking my husband and he tried to beat the shit out of him on the ice tonight.
“Do you care about Arco’s biography? Does that change how you view Van or feel about him?” Lucas opens his mouth to answer, but I hold my hand out. “And don’t tell me you dislike or hate him, because I know damn well you don’t. He was your teammate and he’s your brother-in-law, and I’ve watched you two over the years and—”
“Fine,” Lucas says with a grimace. “Yes, I like Van. I’m pissed as hell at him though for even going where he went with you. He’s disappointed me. And to answer your question, no, that shit doesn’t bother me at all. Arco was a psychopath and anything he wrote in those journals that got turned into a book was probably done with the intent to manipulate perception. I mean, anyone who reads that shit can see he’s just glorifying things in an attempt to torture Van long after the asshole kicked the bucket.”
“You read the book?” I ask, completely incredulous. Lucas hates reading.
“Of course I did. I wanted to be able to defend him if someone said something to me about it.”
Tears prick at my eyes over how thoughtful that was.
“We all read it,” Max says, and my head turns his way. “Even Mom and Dad, and we all discussed it.”
My jaw drops. “Without me?”
“You had enough on your plate,” Malik says, drawing my attention. “All of us think it’s horseshit, by the way.”
“And have any of you actually said that to Van?”
Utter silence. They glance at one another, then at me with guilt-ridden expressions.
“Jesus,” I mutter, taking the pillow and slinging it hard and fast at Lucas. It catches him in the face and beer spews out of his bottle all over his shirt. “You couldn’t have taken five minutes of your time to reach out to your brother-in-law to tell him not to worry about it? That it came across as kooky? That you had his back?”
“We just assumed he would know that,” Malik says in defense of their inaction. “The stuff in that book about Van was so ludicrous, I honestly didn’t think it even required me saying I didn’t believe it.”
I throw my hands in the air. “And here we are… I’m on the brink of divorce, you jerks are trying to beat Van up and telling me you hate him, and not one of you tried to support him.”
More silence. They all look regretful, I’ll give them that.
“I have a question for you,” Malik says. “Why is this upsetting Van so much? I mean, I get there are horrible innuendos made and it’s awful having a serial killer as a father, people wondering if you got anything from him and all… but it’s no different from what he went through three years ago when he was outed as Arco’s son. There was an article and the press went nuts. All of his teammates stood by his side and no one believed the negative shit. So why now is this upsetting him to the point he wants to cut you loose? It makes no sense.”
I hadn’t wanted this to come up, but it has, and I can’t lie to my brothers. I also want them to not be disappointed in Van. I want them to understand that his feelings and emotions are legitimate and must be given credence, even if none of us like the way he’s handling things. “Van and I had been trying to get pregnant when the book came out.”
“I didn’t know that,” Lucas exclaims and looks to Max and Malik. “Did y’all know that?”
I don’t give them a chance to respond. “We didn’t tell anyone we were trying. Didn’t want the pressure of all you busybodies checking in all the time, asking if I was knocked up.” None of them have a rejoinder to that, so I continue. “But to answer your question why Van was so upset, he couldn’t see past his children having to live with this stigma. He didn’t want them to suffer the same embarrassment or bullying he had to endure. The book was a lot different than just being outed as the son of a serial killer. That book told lies about Van that he’d have to defend and he doesn’t mind taking that on for himself. But he didn’t want our kids to have to suffer so he changed his mind, doesn’t want to have kids and asked for a divorce.”
