Chapter Twenty-Three

Flynn

The next morning, I wake with an extra bounce in my step as I send my brother a message asking when practice will be over. I should have spent the last two hours shampooing my hair and blowing it out, maybe putting on some makeup, but I’ve done none of the above. Despite feeling like I’m crawling out of my own skin, I manage to gather my old hockey gear together and pack it into one of Oli’s many equipment bags.

At the arena, I’m confronted with the same security guard from last night.

“I’m Flynn Russell.” I smile nervously. “I’m Oliver Rus—”

The security guard cuts me off, smiling. “I remember you, ma’am. Go ahead. The team is still practicing on the ice.”

“Thank you.” I nod, realizing he may think it’s weird that I’m carrying a large duffle over my shoulder like the hockey players do. The guard holds the door open for me.

The cold air of the rink bites at my skin. The team is on the ice, huddled around the coach. I head over to the side of the rink and take a seat on a bench in front of the Plexiglas. My brother notices me, and his head jerks back in surprise, then he returns his attention to the team.

Myles starts a loud cheer, and they all shout something before they skate off the ice. The team leaves except for my brother and Myles. Oli skates toward me. Myles eyes me like he’s not sure what to think.

“What’s going on?” Oli gaze drifts to the large duffle on the floor. He’s a little out of breath as he takes his helmet off.

Ignoring Oli, I shout to Myles on the ice, “I owe you a game.”

Myles’s face scrunches with confusion. He’s comfortable expressing his emotions on the ice, so that’s what we’re going to do. I do owe him that.

“What are you talking about?” Oli asks and tilts his head to look into my eyes. It’s like he’s checking me for a concussion or something.

“This is between me and Myles, Oli,” I say. “I owe him a game. I’m here to pay up.” I say, giving Myles a lopsided grin.

“You want to play hockey? Now? Here?” Myles skates closer. He thinks I’ve lost my mind.

“Yep.” I shrug, looking down at my duffle, unfazed, which couldn’t be further from the truth. My insides are shaking like a leaf. Oli follows me to the benches, and I hear Myles mutter “okay” to himself. He stays on the ice like he’s glued to his spot as he watches me intently.

“You need to stop worrying about me all the time,” I tell Oli as I begin to gear up. I bend down to tie my skates, the same kind the hockey players wear.

“Yeah, okay.” Oli shakes his head, his dark hair sweaty and sticky from practice. He’s still eyeing me warily.

All suited up, I place my hand on my brother’s shoulder. “Oliver Russell, you have spent the last seven years of your life worrying about me a little too much. You need to stop, because I’m okay. Whatever happens today, I’ll still be okay, because I’m me. I’m strong. I’ve been through a lot, and it hasn’t been easy, but I’m still standing and not doing so bad for myself. So have a little faith, yeah?”

My brother releases a lungful of air. “Yeah,” he confirms. “You’ve got this.”

Then he looks from me to the ice and back. “Do you want me to start you guys off?” he offers with a smirk, like he’s on board with my plan even though he doesn’t know what it is, and it warms my heart that my twin and I still feel so in sync.

“Please.” With my helmet on and my stick in my hand, I head toward destiny. Being the gentleman he is, Myles extends a hand to help me onto the ice.

“We don’t have to do this, Tink. We could go somewhere and talk,” Myles says.

“The last Christmas we were home together, you said you wanted a game. I gave it to you, and it fixed the tension between us. Now, you want this or not?” I ask, sounding all business.

Myles shakes his head. “Let’s do it,” he says, his lips quirking up on one side like he’s amused.

I’m nervous as my brother follows us to center ice with a puck in his hand.

“Thank you.” I nod.

Oli places the puck between us on the ice. Myles isn’t even looking down. He’s staring right at me with his icy-blue eyes. But I won’t be distracted. I return my focus to the puck as Oli whistles.

I quickly get a hit and veer off to the left, grateful that I brushed up on my skating the other night. Myles is close on my tail as we head in the direction of the puck. He makes it around me and gains control. Instead of heading after him, I skate straight across the ice and cut by the net. He tries to score, but I block it, flinging the puck across the ice almost halfway across the entire rink.

Myles smiles and nods his head. “Nice one, Tink.”

“Don’t ‘Tink’ me now, Myles,” I say, puffing and out of breath. After all, I’ve challenged the highest paid player in the NHL.

Myles chuckles as I take off. He follows close behind and then catches up. We reach the puck at the same time. I’m wondering if, had I been a real opponent, he would’ve tried some body contact. Knowing him, he’s probably scared of hurting me. He gets hold of the puck, and I stay on his case, stickhandling my way into his path. His wide smile is infectious.

In the background my brother’s screaming “Go, Flynn, go,” followed by a “fuck yeah,” and “that’s my girl.” I finally maneuver the puck away from Myles and shoot it out in the distance. It hits the boards and slides close to the net I need to score in.

Both Myles and I take off after the puck like bats out of hell. Myles is fast, but I seem to be keeping up with him even if my lungs are burning and I’m struggling for air. It’s the competitive streak in me. I can’t back down from a challenge. I just hope that this game won’t be the death of me. I make it to the puck a millisecond before Myles and shoot straight for the net. In the background I hear loud cheering, which startles me a bit, so I turn around to see some of Oli’s teammates standing with him, cheering me on.

I raise my stick in the air, showing off.

Myles still has that wide smile on his face. I know what he’s doing. He wants me to second-guess my talent. He wants me to believe he let me score.

“Don’t look so smug, Sanders,” I huff.

“You sound a little out of breath there, Russell,” he says with that same condescending tone.

“Fuck, I am.” I lean forward, feeling the burn in my lungs. It’s running down my stomach. I feel like I may faint. I haven’t played in a long time, and even though I workout in the gym, it just isn’t the same as being on the ice.

“Shit, Tink. Are you okay?” Myles skates right over to me and puts his arm under my shoulder.

“I’m out of shape,” I say as my chest heaves.

“Game’s over. I know how to admit defeat. You just stickhandled me, woman.” He’s still smiling when he takes my stick out of my hand, even though the crease in his eyes tells me he’s also worried. I’ve strained the side of my stomach, so I skate a little hunched over as we head off the ice. Oli meets us at the entrance to the rink, a silly grin on his face.

“Shit, Flynn, you still got it.” He leans in to help me get to the benches. I reach inside my duffle, thankful I put a water bottle in there. Just three minutes on the ice with Myles and I feel like I’m going to keel over.

“Nice. Sanders got handled by a woman,” one of his teammates mutters, smacking him in the chest.

“Shit, Captain, maybe we need Russell’s sis,” another one of his teammates bellows.

I hear some of the guys taking jabs at Myles. I’m still leaning forward from the pain and breathing fast from all the exertion.

“Honestly, Flynn, wasn’t there another way for you to show Myles that things are cool with you two now?” Oli asks, taking a seat behind me. He’s still has all his gear on, too.

“Nope.” I shrug. I straighten myself out once my breathing has returned to normal.

“Well, if you’re okay, I’m going to head to the shower,” my brother says.

“I should probably talk to Myles. I don’t think that stickhandling his ass counts as an ‘I’m sorry.’” I wince.

“Probably not,” Oli says. He gets up from the bench and squeezes my shoulder. Then he tells his other teammates to go the fuck home, which I’m guessing is his way of saying that Myles and I need some privacy. They all head out the main door of the arena, some of them shouting “Russell, Russell,” before they leave.

“Feeling better?” Myles smiles, tilting his head down to me with a pout on his lips.

“I’ll survive.”

“You always do,” he agrees, looking to the bench for silent permission to take a seat beside me. I nod, and he takes a seat. “What’s going on?” he asks with a serious and worried look.

“Everything.”

“I’m listening.”

I lift my head and stare straight into his icy-blue eyes. “I’ve been really unfair. I mean about the accident,” I begin.

Myles gets a pained look. “I know I was drunk the other night, but I heard every word you said. We don’t have to dredge it up again.” He tries to stop me from speaking, and I know it’s because he wants to protect me from my own emotions.

Myles, my protector.

“No, I do. It’s the only way for each of us to gain any closure.” I go on to explain to him what happened at the firm on Friday with the Smolder case, and how Tara explained that there really wasn’t a basis to proceed with the case. “I’ve been too hurt to see the truth. I was looking to blame someone, and the drunk driver was dead, so I blamed you.” Tears trickle down my face.

I’m not a girl that cries often, maybe never. I’ve cried more in Chicago than I have my whole life.

“Flynn…” His voice is low, broken, and filled with emotion as his thumb brushes against my cheeks, wiping away the tears. I can’t remember the last time he called me Flynn. Or maybe I do—the night he kissed me and took my breath away. The night my parents were killed. “I’m sorry you had to go through any of it. Our plans really got fucked up after that night, eh?” he says, staring past me with a sad look in his eyes, and I can see how much he lost that night, too.

Toward the end of the draft party, Myles and I snuck off for a bit. He confessed he had feelings for me, and between his interviews, we made out in a corner off to the side of the Sports Center. The Maple Leafs picked him. He would stay in Toronto and I planned on attending the University of Toronto. We were going to tell my parents we’d decided to date.

“I lost your parents, who had been better to me than my own. I lost you that night,” he says, and his voice shakes. My stomach turns. “Losing you was the worst thing to ever happen to me. If I hadn’t been playing for the Leafs at the time, I’m not sure what I would have done. I definitely had dark thoughts.” His words stab my chest.

I get a twisting, burning pain in my stomach as realization hits. Oli was drafted by the Rangers in New York, and I left with him to start school. We went in separate directions when we needed each other most.

“Myles, I…don’t know what to say. I can’t understand why it’s taken me so long to understand at all. When I left with Oli, we were in such a dark place. I…I’m sorry I couldn’t see past my own pain,” I mutter, feeling like I had been so selfish back then.

“Flynn, I don’t need you getting upset over this. Your brother came out to Toronto to see me when he could. We both understood that it was your way of dealing with the loss. I’m not angry with you.” He places a hand on my thigh. “I was mostly always worried about you. Oli was, too. But I’ve never forgotten that night in Niagara Falls.” He pauses to look me in the eyes.

“Neither have I,” I whisper softly, and his gaze drops to my lips.

The sight of my brother entering the arena in the distance causes me to pull my attention from Myles. “Oli is heading over,” I whisper.

Myles turns around.

“You two working everything out?” He stops and waits expectantly for an answer.

“Yeah,” I say with a small smile.

Oli turns to Myles. “You gonna make sure she gets back home? I’m going out.”

“Yeah, of course, man.”

“All right then.” Oli leaves.

Myles spins back to me, and his eyes drop to my lips again. “Is he gone?” he asks. I look past him to the door of the arena.

“He’s gone.”

“Tink, about the other night…” He pauses, and my heart sinks. As attracted as we are to each other, it doesn’t lay the foundation for a future, and I came here today knowing that. My instincts tell me to jump into the conversation and stop him from putting himself down, but the rational part of me says hear him out.

“What is it?” I ask, wiping my clammy hands against my thighs. He pauses, giving me a look that screams I’m not going to like what he’s about to say.

“Spit it out, Myles,” I practically demand.

“I’ve been giving you mixed signals. But here’s the thing… Being with you is effortless. I know I need to learn who you are today, but something finally clicked in my head. No matter what, I want you. I promise you I’ll try my hardest not to fuck up,” he says with a sheepish grin. His blue eyes blaze with excitement.

I haven’t seen him like this since the night of the draft party.

“I’m glad you came here today, but the truth is I planned on coming to you right after practice.” He grins devilishly, clearly pleased with the fact I came to him first, that we came to each other in the exact same moment. “I want you, Flynn. So damn much.”

“Myles. It’s still me… Tink. I still want Peter Pan to sweep me off my feet.” I cock a brow.

A slow smile tickles his lips, revealing the dimple. My body thrums to life as the heat in his eyes sucks the breath right out of me. He leans forward, pressing his lips to mine. Electricity vibrates through me as my body pulses with need. I wrap my arms around his neck and deepen the kiss. He groans into my mouth, his lips hungry and devouring, possessing me. For the first time, this kiss doesn’t feel stolen in the corner of a room where no one can see. This kiss confirms our feelings, and it feels so right.

“Holy shit,” he says into my mouth. We pull away.

“Yeah,” I answer breathlessly.

“Yeah,” he repeats, looking in awe.

“I don’t think I can ever get enough of you. I don’t know how I got through these last seven years without you in my life.” He looks down at himself. “I should change. Get cleaned up. I need to be with you somewhere private,” he says, pressing his forehead to mine while he regains composure. My body throbs so hard I almost offer to shower with him.

“Okay.” I nod.

We pull apart, and I reach down to get my duffle. I completely forgot I’m still in skates. Myles extends a hand to help me pick up the duffle, a wide smile on his face. “You’re still damn good on the ice,” he says.

I smile. “I am.”

I take off my skates, and he gives me a hand. “I know I’ve got a shit reputation when it comes to relationships, but I want to make this work. I want to figure things out with you.”

His determination sends hope blossoming inside me.

“Hey.” He places his finger under my chin and tilts my face toward him. “Whatever it is, talk to me. No more holding back.” I know he’s right, but sharing feelings hasn’t been a polished part of my skill set.

“I know,” I whisper.

A slow smile tugs the corners of his lips. “As much as I want you, we have to take things slow. I want to do right by you.”

I giggle. “The way we kiss doesn’t feel slow.” It feels like a tsunami every time our lips touch. “You’re right, though.”

His grin is infectious. He takes my hand in his. “Flynn Russell, will you go on a date with me?”

“I’d love to.” My heart melts, and I sigh.

“Let me get dressed, and then maybe we can grab a bite to eat.” He nods.

“Sure.” I smile. Truth is I’m all sweaty from the exertion of skating, but I figure my shower will have to wait, even though I wonder what Myles the man looks like naked. Not that I ever saw him naked when we were younger, just that his body is so filled out I can only imagine the size of his… I stop my thoughts. If we are going to be taking things slow, I can’t be thinking like this.

He heads back to the locker room while I pack up my hockey gear, and all I can think is: How am I going to take things slow with him when I want to jump his bones every time we touch?