Shea

Something's wrong.

Brenna isn't playing hockey.

Last time she missed a game, we were nine. She'd broken her arm snowboarding.

Harrison would never miss a game.

Leaning back in my seat, I take a sip of my hot chocolate and search the arena for any signs of her. I'm thinking she's somewhere in the stands. Perhaps she pulled a muscle during last night's game and could not play today. Then again, Brenna is the type of person who would push through an injury to play, despite the consequences.

"Where the hell is Brenna?" Jayden mutters.

My gaze flicks to his coffee. It's resting in the cup holder between our seats. He hasn't touched it. "I don't know," I reply, still staring at the coffee. Something's wrong with me. Brenna's lack of presence shouldn't shock me so much. But it does. "I'm kind of... worried."

KJ and Jayden tease me with a mocking gaze.

"What?" KJ gasps, pressing a hand to his chest. "J, did I hear him right? Is... Is Shea Smith worried about Brenna Harrison?"

Jayden presses a hand to his forehead. "I think I need to lie down."

Slouching in my seat, I push my ball cap down, obscuring their views of my face. I balance my hot chocolate on my thigh. "Fuck off. Both of you."

KJ reaches over and squeezes my shoulder. "We're just teasing you."

"No shit," I fire back.

While the two of them snicker, I stare ahead at the ice. Without Brenna, West Kelowna is holding up fairly well. They've lost their dynamic. Hunter and Nick are lost without their centre. Even their coach looks desperate.

I set my drink down in the cup holder. My gaze sweeps across the arena, taking in the ice, benches, and the seating. The seats are a deep red and quite full, considering this is a game for third place in the tournament. Finding Brenna in the stands would be impossible.

I tap my foot against the concrete. Where the hell is she? Part of me is wondering if Brenna's dead. She would never miss a hockey game. Ever.

The other half of me believes she's injured. It's serious enough Brenna decided to not play. Or her mom forced her not to.

While the minutes tick by, my knee continues to bounce. I've forgotten my about my hot chocolate. Every person I see in the stands isn't Brenna. I don't notice her usual long braid. Or the royal blue ball cap she'll always wear to games.

After ten minutes have passed, I can't take sitting around anymore. I have Brenna's number. I'll call her and see where she is. Besides, Jayden and KJ want to know what's going on, too.

"I'll be back," I mutter.

KJ and Jayden exchange a glance. One of them looks concerned. KJ is smirking.

"Let us know what's going on," Jayden nods.

"Avoid the phone sex," KJ teases.

Jayden punches him in the arm, relieving me of any duties. Knocking sense into KJ is sometimes required. Figuratively, that is. I'll punch him in the arm with playful banter. I'd never hurt my best friend.

Phone in hand, I head up the stairs to the main platform. From there, I exit the arena into the concession area. It's too crowded for a phone call, so I head outside into the snowy weather. The snowfall is light, which eases some tension in my chest. A blizzard would make the drive home stressful. Fall and Spring tournaments are much more enjoyable.

Outside, I make my way to the east side of the building. Aside from two people smoking, I'm alone. Without hesitation, I dial Brenna's number. I bring my phone to my ear, tapping my foot against the icy cement. It rings several times before going to her voicemail.

"Fuck," I mutter, hanging up.

If Brenna isn't answering her phone, there's no point in texting her. I slip my phone back into my pocket. Disappointment fills my chest almost as much as concern does. Where is she? This isn't like Brenna. The few times I've called her, she's answered her phone. She'll answer texts without hesitation. She's never missed a hockey game.

I run a hand through my hair, ridding it of any snowflakes, and turn back to the building. Although I'm a little cold, there's only one reason I'm returning to the arena and not heading back to the hotel to scour the area for Brenna.

If anyone knows where Brenna is, it's Tucker.

*  *  *

Jayden, KJ, and I loiter around the exit to the locker room post-game. Hunter and the rest of Brenna's friends should be out soon.

KJ is leaning against the wall, enjoying a piece of chocolate. I suppress an eye roll. If he was in love with Ella when they were dating, then he's obsessed with chocolate. He looks a little too interested in it.

Jayden, who's just returned from the washroom, leans beside me against the wall. He leans forward and lowers his voice. "Should we tell KJ he's stress-eating again?"

"Nah," I reply. "Let 'em. There's nothing wrong with stress-eating."

Jayden cocks a brow. "Right. It's kind of like you tapping your foot against the floor. Shit happens when you're nervous. But seriously. Take a deep breath, Shea. I'm sure there's a logical reason why Brenna isn't playing. Injury, sickness... Maybe a family emergency."

I rub my jaw. Family emergency doesn't seem like a pliable option. Brenna and her mom are close. Their relationship is healthy (from what I've seen). "She has to be sick or something. Either way, we need to ask Tucker."

"Cut the bullshit. We don't need to ask Hunter. Just admit you're worried about Brenna. You want to know."

Pressing my lips into a flat line, I look away. I'm worried my facial expression will reveal something. It's just like what happened yesterday when Brenna kissed me. That... It hasn't happened for a while. My bodily reaction mortified me, and I hope Brenna doesn't get the wrong idea. It's not like I meant for it to happen.

"Come on," he continues. "Don't be an idiot. Everyone knows you and Brenna hated each other like rivalries. But the funny thing about spending time with someone is that you get to see who they really are."

"More like enemies," I mutter, hating that Jayden, yet again, has another point. After Dad made a comment about Brenna being better than me... My reaction was weak. You can't control the actions of another person. What you can control is how you react. Plus, I gave Dad too much power. It resulted in me pushing away a friend. These past few years, I haven't known her. Now, I know her a little better. And...

And she's not that bad. She's pretty badass, actually.

"Enemies, rivalries, whatever. You both hated each other."

A smile curves across my lips. I'm thinking about when Brenna doused me in coffee. The shirt the coffee soaked is still stained. No matter how many times I wash it, I can't get rid of the stain. "Yeah. We did."

I glance at Jayden.

"Fine. Maybe I do like Brenna. Are you happy?"

Jayden flashes me a cheeky grin. "I'll be happier when you two actually start dating."

Although his comment makes my heart flutter and my hands turn clammy, I keep my expression gruff. "Don't push it, J," I warn, pointing at him. "You already piss me off enough."

He punches me in the shoulder. "'Cause I'm always right, right?"

I roll my eyes, which is the only answer he's getting from me.

Jayden crosses his arms and looks straight ahead at the water fountain. The cocky smirk, which is rare for Jayden, makes me want to smack him.

"For what it's worth," KJ adds. "You and Brenna would make cute kids."

KJ, who I thought was too focused on his chocolate to care about this conversation, is staring at Jayden and I. There's a smudge of chocolate on the corner of his mouth.

I gape at him. He's pushing it. Way too far. I'm pissed.

"Dude?" I ask. "Seriously?"

"You've got something here," Jayden says. He taps the corner of his mouth. "Might want to clean that up."

KJ wipes the corner of his mouth. "Don't get pissy with me, Smith. It's just an observation."

I don't like the grin in his voice.

I'm about to respond when the door to the locker room opens. Members of Brenna's team come pouring out. Some of them glance at us, their faces expressing their confusion.

Fuck, I can relate. I can't believe, despite getting along with Tucker those few times, I'm doing this.

Other teammates ignore us.

KJ, Jayden, and I stand there, waiting for Tucker, Charette, and Wright. All of them are together.

Of course, they're the last three to exit.

By the emotion visible on their faces, it's obvious they lost the game. As they're exiting, walking down the small hallway, I overhear them discussing strategy. My foot is still tapping against the scuffed linoleum as we wait for them to notice us. I'm nervous. The last time I expressed concern about Brenna was years ago. Tucker might laugh in my face.

However, that is not the reaction I get.

As soon as Tucker notices me, his face darkens. He mutters something to his friends. Then he heads over to me. KJ and Jayden step back, giving Tucker space. I stay where I'm standing. Although Tucker looks pissed, I'm sure whatever he's upset about is justifiable. Something tells me I'm involved in his anger.

Without a word, Tucker grabs the collar of my sweater, tugging me in the opposite direction from my friends.

His action irritates me. He could've at least told me what the hell was going on.

Shoving Tucker away, I step back and adjust my sweater. "The fuck, Tucker? What's your problem?"

Before I can comprehend what's happened, I'm hunched over, clutching my aching jaw.

"Hunter! That was uncalled for!" That's Wright.

"Yeah, man. Calm down." And that's Charette.

They're both holding him back. 

Tucker, being the indifferent prick he can be, snorts. "I'd punch him again if I could."

Jayden, who's now at my side, asks if I'm okay.

"Yeah," I reply. "I'm fine." My jaw is aching, but I can handle it.

Damn. Tucker's got a good punch.

"The fuck is wrong with you, Smith?" he yells. "Dragging Bren into your shit? She's got enough on her plate."

As much as I want to retaliate, I don't. Tucker and I could trade punches as many times as we want. They wouldn't solve anything. It's like when Brenna and I fought on the ice (even though me punching her was accidental). We solved nothing until we talked. Even after all my fuck-ups.

"Hence the reason I told her!" I reply, defending myself. "No, I shouldn't have gotten her involved in the bet—which I'm assuming she told you about?"

Hunter, who was probably expecting a different reaction, blinks a few times.

Still feeling irritated, I continue on, throwing my hands up in the air. "Yeah, I get it! I'm an asshole. And it's strange to watch an asshole like me own up to their mistakes. What else do you want from me, Tucker? I'm trying to fix it. Brenna and I are trying to fix it."

Hunter looks like he's ready to stab me. "That's not enough, Smith, and you fucking know it. She shouldn't have to deal with it. You made your bed. Go sleep in it."

I run a hand through my hair, tugging at it. My temper is rising. Not towards Hunter, but this situation. I'm so sick of Connor and his games. "I talked to her. She agreed to bring Connor down. It was her idea, actually. I'll take the blame for agreeing. For being a jerk. But I will not take full blame for playing along." Pausing, I take a deep breath. "Where's Brenna? Why didn't she play tonight?"

"Why should I tell you?" Tucker sneers.

"Because I'm fucking worried?" I snap, stepping forward.

Tucker doesn't back down. He steps forward. "Believing that bullshit proclamation would make me a fool. You've never given a shit about Brenna. All you care about is your pissing match with Connor."

"Actually," I spit. "I care about Brenna staying on your team. Staying in this goddamn league. Even if her skill irks me, she worked hard enough to get here."

I'm surprised by the honesty of my words.

KJ rests a hand on my shoulder, giving it a shake. "Come on, guys. We don't need to have a pissing match, as you said, Hunter." KJ focuses his gaze on Tucker, Charette, and Wright. "It's concerning to not see Brenna play. We wanted to make sure she was okay."

They all look at Jayden.

"Seriously?" Wright asks.

Jayden nods.

Some of the tension eases, despite me being pissed off at Jayden. Goddamn guy. Everyone loves him.

Tucker sighs, his posture slouching.

"Her dad showed up. At the hotel last night." Although his voice is soft, it cuts like glass. Brenna never liked discussing her dad. Even when we were kids. He glances at the floor. "I fucking hate him," he mutters.

Finally, Tucker and I can relate. Although I've never met her father or heard the full story, I hate him already. I'm also not fond of her mom. How else would Brenna's dad have known where she was? Unless he was stalking them.

I rub the heel of my hand against my forehead. This just got ten times messier than before.

"Shit," KJ says, loosening a low whistle. "Talk about a plot twist. How did he know she was in Kamloops? Let alone which hotel she was at?"

Tucker's gaze locks with mine. He doesn't look happy about revealing more information around me. It's understandable. I guess. Tucker doesn't know Brenna and I have been getting along lately. At least, that's what I think.

"Her mom's been keeping him updated. They've been in contact since Brenna was born." Tucker raises his hands, palms facing us. "Don't quote me on that. That's what Brenna said. It could be an assumption. The exchange made her think they were pretty close."

Silence passes over us. No one is making eye contact anymore or moving. Everyone's glued to their spot while they ponder over this newfound information. I feel bad for Brenna. And while I have hateful feelings directed at her father, there is a part of me that sees some light in this situation. Perhaps her father wants to start a relationship with her. That's better than anything my dad would do. Despite the secrets and heartbreak, I think Brenna should give him a chance once she's accepted what's happened.

The only problem is, she avoids hostile situations that involve emotion. Our rivalry wasn't based on emotion. It was based on hockey skills. This? This is a different story. Tucker caught Brenna in a moment of weakness last night. Now, she'll do anything to avoid it. Everyone may think Brenna's the Golden Girl, but she's got some insecurities. We all do. And sometimes, we don't know how to regulate them.

I'm worried about Brenna's temper. About how this will affect her all around.

"Fuck," Tucker mutters. He looks exhausted and distraught. "I need a coffee. Let's continue this conversation at the concession."

No one argues. We follow Tucker down the hallway, rounding two soft corners before we come to the concession. It smells of artificially buttered popcorn and greasy food. The aroma of coffee lingers in the background.

"Anyone want anything?" Tucker asks.

"I'm good," I mutter, eyeing the assorted bag of gummies. I could use something to distract myself with, but I don't feel like owing Tucker anything.

Jayden asks for a coffee, as do Wright and Charette. KJ says he's fine.

Once everyone has what they need, we sit around the table. The atmosphere is tense again, feeling like an interrogation with no prime suspect. It's like we're playing some murder mystery game. I'm giving Tucker suspicious looks. Tucker's glancing at my friends. Charette keeps glaring at KJ.

We're a fucking mess.

"Why do you want to talk about this?" I ask, clearing my throat. "Isn't it wrong to talk behind her back?"

"Hypocrite," Charette mutters.

A comment about goalies sits on my tongue. I swallow it. We're not playing hockey. We're trying to look out for a friend. Instead, I flip him off. "I'm aware, Drew."

Jayden rests his elbows on the table and rubs his temples. "Guys. Forget the testosterone for a moment. How can we help Brenna? Hunter, I'm assuming this little get together is about the bet?"

Tucker nods.

"We're already trying to fix it," KJ inputs. He pushes his phone across the table, revealing the video. "Next time, I'll make sure the sound's on. With evidence, we can prove to Coach that Connor is being a dick."

This relaxes Tucker a little. I don't think he realized our involvement.

Wright snorts. "You forgot to turn the sound on? That's some low-class shit, Jones. Who forgets about the sound?"

Jayden shoots daggers at Wright. "Although we're friends, Nick, I don't see you doing anything for Brenna."

Wright's cheeks turn a shade darker. He looks pretty damn sheepish. "No need to call me out, J."

Jayden crosses his arms. "I have every reason to call you out. Just like, if I do something wrong, you have the right-slash-reason to call me out."

His words settle around the table.

Some of us nod in agreement. Others... Well, they call fools out.

"Smith," Tucker says. "What were you thinking when you took this bet? Brenna is ruthless and will gladly be Connor's demise, but why? Why did you do this?"

A sheepish feeling fills my chest. "I was drunk and pissed she'd benched me. It was just after I hurt my shoulder. But I regret it, okay? I wish I'd kept my mouth shut or avoided the party. Telling her counts for something, doesn't it?"

Drew contemplates my words, then glances at Tucker. "He has a point."

"Ella will help," KJ says. There's a note of sadness in his voice. "We've been talking. Brenna knows Ella knows. I just... It was wrong of me to tell Ella, I know. But none of Brenna's girlfriends know. Ella needed support when we'd get into fights just like I needed support." He pauses.

I feel like shit. None of that support came from me. I was a shitty friend after Ella dumped KJ. Taking a deep breath, I avert my gaze to the spacious concession area. It's cleared out since we arrived. People are exiting the building and heading back to their hotels until tonight's game. A game I don't want to play now.

"Ella can keep a secret. She'll be Brenna's support where we can't be. She'll try to help," KJ continues.

"It's not that easy," Tucker argues. "Brenna's specific about who she talks to. Ella will get hurt. There was already drama between them. Brenna told me about it."

"Ella can handle it," KJ says. "She's tough."

No one argues with him. His voice is too threatening.

While the others continue to discuss alternative options to undermining Connor, ones that don't include Brenna, I excuse myself from the table. Pushing through the doors, I head back into the arena. The air is cool against my heated cheeks. Right now, the Zamboni is cleaning the ice. I sit down in the nearest empty seat, dropping my face into my hands.

Everything is spiralling out of control because of me. Brenna has too much on her plate. My teammates and opposing teammates know about the bet. I have assigned them to prevent the bet. Not on purpose, but they feel obligated to now that they're involved. I never meant for any of this to happen.

Removing my phone from my pocket, I glance at the screen. No text messages or voicemails from Brenna. When I open my texts, all of them are still unread. It makes the guilt in my stomach more potent. She's more upset about the bet than she lets on, judging from Tucker's explanation.

Then something hits me.

I haven't really apologized to her.

The words have left my mouth, but I portrayed them from a defensive stance. 

"Mind if I sit?"

I glance up, my gaze connecting with Tucker's. Shrugging, I gesture to the empty seat next to me.

He sits down, coffee in hand.

"Come to punch me again, Tucker?" I drawl. Judging by my reflection on my phone screen, my jaw is a little swollen. If there's any bruising, I can't tell. I'll inspect later.

Looking sheepish, Tucker stuffs his hands in his pockets. He gives a subtle shrug. "Sorry, man. That was uncalled for."

"You think?" I mutter.

He sighs. "Brenna isn't taking this well. She's heading home with her mom, but... Man... It's not good. She will spiral out of control. Brenna would shield herself with ignorance every time I suggested trying to find her father. Seeing him is taking a toll on her."

Leave it to Tucker to solve problems that aren't his own.

Sighing, I rub the heel of my hand against my forehead.

"Tell your coach," Tucker says. "You don't need evidence when you have people backing you up. It's scary, to not uphold masculinity. We're not supposed to tattle or cry. We're supposed to be strong enough to tackle anything. But sometimes, we're not. Right now is an example. There are more concerning issues to tend to than our egos. I'm not strong enough to handle Brenna on my own. I need you and KJ and Ella to look out for her. I'm worried about her." He glances at me. "And I don't think you're strong enough to battle Connor on your own. That kid is a force to be reckoned with. He's done more bad than good in this world, and he thrives off of it. Put the issues into someone else's hands. Don't take this on when it'll only make things worse."

I exchange a glance with Hunter. He's right—as much as I hate to admit it. I thought I could handle this on my own.

Yet something forces me to ask the next question.

"What if Coach doesn't believe me?"

Hunter's gaze flickers to the Zamboni on the ice.

"Then we go with KJ's plan to snag another video. All I know is we need to get Brenna out of this ASAP. There's nothing wrong with trying, Shea."

Once again, I agree with Hunter Fucking Tucker.