Shea

Sitting on the opposite side of Coach's desk makes me antsy. Remnants of the meeting with Brenna's uncle back in high school flitter through my head. When I told him about all my shitty decisions, I felt like a kid being reprimanded in the principal's office. That was understandable. I was a stupid kid until Brenna helped me onto the right pathway. Without her input and my ability to change, I'd still be a shitty person. Now, I like to think I'm a good person who's open to awareness. Ready to take accountability for any mistakes I make and take action to improve myself.

Again, that's understandable. There's nothing wrong with wanting to be a better person.

What I don't understand is why, right now, I feel like a kid that did something bad.

I'm not the one who assaulted my wife.

Nor did I bait Ella into believing I was a good person.

Or beat the shit out of my teammate.

To my left, I glance at KJ. He's slouched in his chair, resting his chin against his fist. Several bruises have blossomed across his face, and his split lip looks nasty with its stitches. His blank stare focuses on the MacBook Pro on Coach Brinsen's desk. It weighs on my heart. KJ should've gone home to be with Mel instead of coming here. But he insisted he needed to help me and Brenna. It doesn't surprise me. KJ's always been the good guy. He'll do anything for the people he loves.

Unless he can't.

Which is why I'm fucking pissed at the world. There should be a universal rule that good people can't be harmed. Someone like Melody, who's already been through hell, shouldn't have to endure such an invasive battle. Her body's pitted against her. She's too young. There's too much she's missing out on.

And KJ...

I tear my gaze away from him, focusing on our coach, the GM, and the franchise owner. None of them look pleased, and Coach has just finished reprimanding KJ about picking fights with his own teammates. Now he's apologizing profusely for the news about Melody. While Coach's is genuine, the others don't care. Their sympathies are fake. 

KJ slams his fist on the desk. "This isn't about Mel! This is about Brenna Harrison."

"Smith," I mutter.

"Brenna Smith," KJ corrects. "This is about what Mikael did to Brenna in the fucking hallway just outside of our fucking locker room. You think me beating the shit out of my teammate is bad? How about assaulting you teammate's wife?" From his pocket, he removes a USB. He tosses it onto the desk. Venom still drips from his voice as he speaks. "Watch the fucking video, Coach. Then tell me I'm the villain. If something isn't done, I'll keep going after Mikael until he's a bloody mess on the floor and I'm in jail. He doesn't deserve to play in this league anymore, and I refuse to have a repeat of Connor Fucking Watt. Mikael is not being traded. He is not being sent to the AHL. This franchise is ending his contract and kicking his ass to the curb."

I cover my snort with a laugh. It's inappropriate of me to laugh—this is Brenna we're talking about. This is a very serious offence. But watching KJ rip a strip off of our franchise is comical. You'd think he's married to Brenna, not me. Having him here is beneficial. My nerves are shot. There's too much anger living in my bones to think straight.

Coach raises his eyebrows as he plugs in the USB. He exchanges a glance with the GM and owner of the team. They look uncomfortable, which is pleasing. They should be uncomfortable. One of their players has committed a misconduct. One that will be dealt with no matter what.

"I have a copy," KJ warns. "If something isn't done, I will release it to the public. Hockey means shit. Fuck my career. Fuck the franchise. Fuck the NHL. It's incomparable to Brenna's well-being. She never asked for this shit. Nor does she deserve it."

I close my eyes, trying to ease the ache in my heart. Those words have an underlying meaning. Intentionally or not, I know his words are mirroring his pain. I rest a hand on his shoulder. He tenses before relaxing, and I give it a squeeze, telling him to calm down. It makes me feel like an asshole. KJ has every right to lose his mind. But we're at work and trying to help someone we love. We have to stay professional.

KJ slouches in his seat, running a hand through his hair. "Just watch the tape, please. And make a moral decision. Because Shea and I will make this public."

Everyone except KJ looks at me. My mouth is dry despite the emotions burning in my chest. Stepping out of the dressing room and seeing Mikael touching her was... It pissed me off, but it also devastated me. Brenna's been through enough. She didn't need more shit from Mikael. Yet it happened, and I wasn't there to prevent it.

But what I can do is fix this mess. We can achieve justice. Why should Mikael continue to thrive while Brenna suffers?

I expel a deep breath.

"We will," I say. My voice is shaky, but the longer I speak, the better it gets. "Brenna will go public with it as well." Pausing, I clear my throat. "When I stepped out of the locker room, I saw Mikael's hand beneath my wife's shirt. She did not give him consent, and he had no intention of stopping." I jerk my chin in the laptop's direction. "Shoving Mikael was done through every ounce of self-restraint. What KJ did on the ice is what I wanted to do to him, but I remained professional. Do not take my self-restraint as a strike against Brenna. As me devaluing what Mikael did."

"You can see it in the way he holds her after," KJ mutters. "How much he cares. I do the same with Mel."

His subtle words only reach my ears. Again, I have to close my eyes for a second, fighting to regain my composure. Every word and every action that comes from KJ makes me feel like a buoy. His emotions are waves that continue to smash against the shore, and there's nothing I can do to stop the ripple effect. No reassuring words I can speak to him. There are no believable lies I can spin to make him feel better.

I could tell him everything will be okay—but it won't. There is an inevitable outcome that none of us can avoid.

Coach Brinsen runs a hand through his thinning hair and expels a deep breath. When he looks up, I note the grim look on the General Manager's face, as well as the team owner's face. None of them look pleased with what's been revealed here, which gives me a spark of hope. Maybe they'll expel him from the league. Maybe this won't be a repeat of Connor Watt getting a second chance after dragging Brenna and me into all that shitty drama back in high school.

"We'll look into it," the GM says. His tone is dismissive. 

I blink. KJ's mouth goes slack.

Coach Brinsen frowns. "That's not... No, Jeremy. That's not how we approach these matters. Mikael sexually assaulted a teammate's wife. There's sufficient proof. What Shea and Kaleb are asking for is rational. We have a duty to our team and fans to provide justice."

Jeremy waves him off. "There are discussions that need to be had. He will surely not play for our team, but we could gain some benefits from trading him. We need to approach this with a business perspective."

A wave of cold shock echoes through my body. All I can do is stare ahead at the desk. Mikael's getting away with his shit, just like Connor did. It's the same old framework: men getting their way. Mikael should be held accountable for his actions. He shouldn't be allowed to play in the NHL again.

I slam my fist on the desk, my control snapping. "That's not good enough!"

Jeremy pins me with a glare. "What your teammate did was disrespectful, but it's not serious. Had rape been involved, then maybe we would've looked into it a little more. However, all he did was grope her. There is a peaceful resolution to solving this matter to make sure it doesn't happen again. Trade him. He'll leave your wife alone."

KJ grabs my arm and pulls me back into my chair.

His words are too unbelievable, too traumatic to say anything.

"That's not our point," KJ says. "We don't want it happening to any woman. With that behaviour, you don't know what he's done, Jeremy. Coming forward and speaking about sexual assault is difficult for anyone. The only way we'll be able to stop Mikael's red-flag behaviour is by nipping this in the bud. We need to approach the matter with concern. Trading him isn't good enough. What if he groped your daughter the same way?"

Jeremy narrows his eyes. "That's different."

"NO," I yell. "IT'S NO DIFFERENT."

With everyone staring at me, I take a deep breath.

"It's no different," I continue. "What's happened to Brenna does not differ from what could happen to your daughter. You need to sort yourself out. If you think it's okay to approach such a heavy topic with a biased attitude, then your opinion means nothing. All it does it contribute to the sexism women face."

He glowers at me, shaking his head. "This conversation is over." He jabs his finger in our direction. "If any of this gets to the media, we will terminate your contracts. Your professional careers will be over, and I will make sure you never play in the NHL again. Be thankful we're even considering trading Mikael."

I open my mouth, but KJ rests a hand on my forearm. When I look at him, he shakes his head. The moment we make eye contact, I understand what he's hinting at.

No matter what, Brenna's getting justice.

Even if we're no longer professional hockey players at the end.

* * *

Before returning home, I stop at the grocery store and grab two pints of ice cream. Mint chocolate cookie and maple walnut. My stomach will not be happy later, but I don't care. Ice cream is my saviour when I'm upset. Even if I pay the price later on.

The drive from the grocery store to our house takes fifteen minutes. I leave my hockey back in the back of the vehicle, with the windows open. My energy levels are low after tonight's incident. I'm outraged and frustrated. With the plastic bag hanging from my arm, I shoulder my way through the door from the garage and into the mud room. My scuffed dress shoes end up in the far corner.

Shrugging off my jacket, I hang it over the hook and then unbutton my dress shirt. The room smells of vanilla soy candles. I make a quick stop in the kitchen to grab spoons. When I step into the living room, a few of them are lit on the coffee table, resting in their glass holders. They produce just enough light to see Brenna's soft face. She's sleeping on the couch. The blanket has fallen to the floor, and she's hugging a pillow. One arm hangs over the side of the couch, her fingers skimming a paperback book that's been forgotten.

As I stare at her, I try to put myself in KJ's shoes. Losing Brenna... it's unfathomable.

The very thought makes my throat clog with emotions, and I suddenly have this impulsive urge to hold her.

After setting the bag down on the coffee table, I pull her into my arms and press a kiss to her forehead.

She stirs. Those thick lashes skim her cheekbones as she blinks, her eyes focusing on mine. "Shea?" Her voice is rough with sleep as I help her into a sitting position on my lap. She rests her head beneath my chin, pressing her cheek against my chest. "What are you doing?"

I press a kiss to her forehead. "Brenna, I love you."

Frowning, she tilts her head up. "I know. You show me every day. By FaceTiming me when you're on the road. Telling me to put my seatbelt on in the car. When you make me dinner." She rests a hand on her slightly bulging stomach. "I feel it every day, as this baby grows. I love you, too, Shea. "

Emotion makes my throat constrict. There's a lot of back and forth between anger and sadness, as well as some relief, but the sadness is overwhelming. I clear my throat as my eyes well with tears. "KJ told me about Melody."

Pain fills her blue-violet eyes. "Melody came over tonight. To Ella's. She arrived just after KJ was kicked off of the ice. It... it was heartbreaking."

Reaching over, I grab the maple walnut ice cream and pop the lid open.

Brenna groans. "Really, Shea?"

I snort. "I'll sleep on the couch tonight."

Despite the lingering sadness, Brenna chuckles. She reaches over and grabs the other flavour and spoon. "You don't have to sleep on the couch. I'm just wondering why you put your body through this."

I dig the spoon into the ice cream and take a big bite, enjoying the maple flavour and the crunch of candied walnuts. "Because it's fucking delicious. All that dairy-free shit doesn't compare to the real shit."

For several minutes, Brenna and I enjoy our different flavours of ice cream. We both stare ahead at the blank TV. Our reflections look somewhat comical.

"They're refusing to do anything," I say, breaking the silence. "All the general manager will do is trade Mikael. It's just like what happened with Connor. A slap on the wrist."

My mind is all over the map tonight. I can't focus on one topic. 

Her body tenses beside me. "That's ridiculous. Even when there's proof. But it doesn't surprise me. A lot of hockey players get away with their behaviour. Franchises will cover up whatever they can in order to succeed. Remember what happened with Chicago?"

I take another bite of ice cream, pondering my thoughts. "KJ and I will say something at our next interview with the media. Are you still okay with that? We'll share the video, too."

Brenna nods without hesitation. "I'm okay with it. Men like Mikael aren't onetime offenders. This will help prevent it from happening to another woman. I can handle the heat from the public and media. What I can't handle is Mikael not being punished." She licks her spoon.

"Then it's settled," I say. "We take that bastard down."

Despite the seriousness, Brenna laughs. "That sounded so immature—the way you said it. It's like we're back in high school again."

"Ugh. No. Never remind me of high school again."

She nudges me, a small smile on her lips. "There are some excellent memories."

I look at Brenna. "Leaving you was the hardest thing I ever did."

Brenna flashes me a weak smile. "I know. But I always knew we'd find our way back to each other." With her free hand, she reaches up and rests her hand on my cheek. "Now tell me what else is wrong. Because ice cream and putting your body through hell means several things are bothering you."

Sighing, I shove a spoonful of ice cream into my mouth. She already knows what's bothering me, but I appreciate her asking. KJ's been my best friend since we were kids. 

"I'm worried about KJ," I say. "Brenna, I don't know if he'll bounce back from this one. What if the pain is too much for him? I can't stand watching him suffer. All I feel is hopelessness."

She cuddles closer to me. "Some pain lasts forever, Shea. It lingers until you take your last breath. The only difference is you learn how to cope. To live with it. Pain will lessen over time, but the memory sticks with you. You'll always remember how the first strike felt..." She trails off. "Nothing is ever as bad as the first strike."

Taking the ice cream from her, I step both pints on the coffee table. Then I pull her onto my lap. I kiss her forehead again, keeping my arms wrapped around her. There's nothing left for me to say. All I can do is hold her close and remind her I love her.

"What are we going to do?" I whisper.

Brenna's blue-violet eyes meet mine. "We're going to plan a wedding." Leaning over, she opens her laptop and uses touch ID to unlock it. Her calendar is visible on the screen. She's highlighted three dates. "A wedding for KJ and Melody. They deserve a wedding. Once our emotions calmed down, we discussed throwing a small wedding celebration on the beach." She rubs her tired eyes. "It'll be cold, but Melody adores the ocean. Right now, their happiness is more important. We need to make sure they live these last months out to their fullest potential."

Clearing my throat, I nod. It won't be enough for them, but it's a start. A light in the dark. "Let's plan a wedding."