Page 37 of Flashback for the Forward

There were turnovers so bad that Coach screamed from the bench, “We’re wearing white jerseys tonight!” as if we didn’t know which players on the ice were our teammates and which were our opponents.

But the straw that broke the camel’s back was when one of our rookie defensemen was skating the puck out of the defensive zone, and a fourth-line forward decided that was a good time for a shift change. Neither was paying attention to their surroundings, and their collision was brutal. Not only did it lead to a change of possession because we lost control of the puck, but it also turned into an odd-man rush that the Bridgers scored on, extending their lead. Oh, and both Surf players involved came off the ice injured.

It was a good thing we traveled with our top medical staff because Coach looked like he was about to have a stroke.

Just when we thought we were finally moving in the right direction, we were shoved two giant steps backward.

Arizona: Bridget didn’t want me to tell you before the game, but being at your house alone was too much for her, and she’s been at our place since last night. It’s up to you if you want to swing by after you guys land later or in the morning to pick her up. I’m fine either way.

Dammit. I hated that we’d had to head out on the road so soon after Bridget’s ex attacked her, but it wasn’t as if I’d had much of a choice. Coach allowed guys to miss practice or games for family emergencies—birth of a child, death of a family member—but he did so grudgingly, and only because the league would have an issue if he denied leave due to extenuating circumstances.

But Bridget’s situation, and my involvement in it, didn’t qualify. Plus, I was the Surf’s captain, and it was my job to set an example that the rest of the team was expected to follow.

I’ll come over tonight. How is she doing?

Arizona: She’s scared but hanging in there. Maisie’s been doing a great job of providing a distraction when she starts sinking too deep into her thoughts.

I owe her one. Go ahead and double my pledged donation to Thorne Tough as a thank you.

Arizona: Are you sure? You’ve already pledged enough to make you one of the premier sponsors for the inaugural camp.

It’s for a good cause.

Arizona: Can’t argue with you there. I’ll mark it down. Thanks, Cole.

Thank you for being there for my girl when I couldn’t be.

Arizona: Anytime. I mean it.

“Soooooo, we gonna talk about it?” Levi’s head was poised directly over my shoulder, reading my text exchange with his wife.

Standing to remove my towel and tug on my underwear after my post-game shower, I replied, “Nothing to talk about.”

“Right.” He nodded. “Because harboring a half-naked woman in your house is an everyday occurrence.”

Crew’s head whipped around. “Damn, dude, did you finally get back on the horse?”

I shot Levi a glare that said, Thanks a lot.

He lifted one shoulder as if to say, You brought this on yourself.

Oblivious to our silent exchange, my twin kept rolling. “And is ‘harboring’ code for some kind of kinky bondage shit?”

“Oh, for the love of God.” I pinched the bridge of my nose.

“Is that a yes?” Crew pressed.

Once my brother became fixated on something, he was like a dog with a bone, unwilling to let it drop, so there was no point in tiptoeing around the truth. At least this way, I’d save myself from the part where he annoyed the shit out of me until he got the information he sought.

Turning my back on him, I punched my arms through the sleeves of my dress shirt. “It’s Bridget, okay?”

The silence stretched for so long that I dared to peek over my shoulder to find Crew’s face frozen in an expression of shock.

After what felt like an eternity, he blinked, shaking his head as his brain came back online. Clearing his throat, he said, “Bridget? As in, Bridget Russell?”

“Mmm.” I dipped my chin in confirmation.

“As in, Russ’s baby sister?”