Page 54 of Shattered On Ice

“You’ve survived a war zone that existed only in your head,” Monty says gently. “You did what you had to do to survive. But you're a grown-ass man now, not seventeen. You have to look at the collateral damage.”

“I know.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “Look what happened with Rook. I lost him. He hates me.”

“He doesn't hate you,” Monty corrects gently. “This is a guy who would throw himself in front of a slapshot for you. You broadsided the guy and put him on his ass. He just learned that you were shattered and carrying this burden for ten years without asking him for help. It’s a broken heart, Westy. He feels completely useless to you.”

I press the heels of my hands into my eyes, feeling the shame and weight of what I did to him all over again. I haven't had a friend like Rook before—someone who goes out of his way just to make my life better. “I fucked it all up.”

Monty leans forward, resting his arms on his knees. “I need you to fix this. The deception hurt him worse than the truth ever could. I’m not letting something like this tear my team apart. You go to him. You take whatever hits he dishes out and apologize for not trusting him to be the friend he’s always been for you. Got it?”

“I hear you,” I murmur, the truth of it tasting like ash, despite being the solid ground I need to stand on. “But what about Knight?” I ask desperately. “He admitted he loves me, Monty, but he won't touch me. He’s choosing the bullshit therapy ethics over us.”

Monty shakes his head with a sad, knowing smile. “He’s not choosing the ethics over you. He’s using the ethics to save your sorry ass.”

I reel back as if slapped. “No.” I shake my head as my chest tightens. “No, that’s not true.”

Monty sighs, the breath raising his shoulders as he looks out into the dim night and the pond that has exploded with an evening serenade of crickets and frogs.

“When my wife died, I would have burned down the world to get her back. Love, grief…that shit makes you selfish. We want what we want, right now, and it doesn't matter what we have to do to get it. I thought I’d never love like that again, until I met Tucker, and I learned just how much I was willing to sacrifice to make sure he was happy.” He cuts his gaze to me, leveling me with a haunted, piercing look. “Knight isn't being selfish. He knows if he crosses that line, you could lose everything—your career, your refuge, the very thing that sustains you. He’s breaking his own heart to ensure you get to keep playing hockey. That’s a man completely in love with you, willing to sacrifice himself so you have what you need most.”

The truth of it punches me square in the chest, stealing the oxygen from my lungs.

Monty places a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Don't ask him to compromise his ethics,” he says, voice firm but full of incredible kindness. “Don't force a man to choose between his career and yours. You finish the work. Go to your sessions. Put Benoit in the past where he belongs, and heal your mind so you’re the best version of yourself you can be for both of you. When you're cleared, and he’s no longer your therapist, then you get your man. Love is strong enough to wait.”

I fall back into the firm wood of the Adirondack chair and stare at the first stars piercing the night sky.

I’m shattered and exhausted. My best friend is pissed at me. The man I love is locked behind a professional wall of ethics, and my trauma is now fully on display. But as the chill breeze washes over the pond in the dark country night, the debilitating panic in my chest begins to ease.

I have a map and direction now. It will be a brutal, excruciating climb out of the dark abyss, but for the first time in ten years, I know what to do.

Twenty-one

Westin

“Ineed to talk to you,” I say quietly as Rook grabs his helmet and stick before practice. He’s studiously avoided all eye contact and kept to himself, not providing me an opportunity to talk to him. So I’m making one.

“Fuck off,” he growls, turning away and marching out of the room.

I follow like a kicked puppy that still wants love. “Please, Rook. I can't stand this.”

“You should have thought of that before you decided to fuck my brother behind my back,” he snaps, his voice low and full of scathing disdain.

I look around quickly to see if anyone heard, but we’re the last ones onto the ice. My heart is kicking in my chest. The fear of anyone else learning my secret is still very much a reality, no matter what a few people know now.

“Maybe if you’d ever been in love, you’d understand it’s a little difficult to pick based on who a person is related to. Believe me, if I could have picked anyone else, I would have,” I bite back, finding it hard to stay calm and patient.

Take the hits, Monty’s voice floats in from the back of my head to remind me. Fuck I’m already messing this up.

Rook hits the ice and skates away from me, not bothering to answer.

Anytime I can get him alone during practice, I try again, but he’s a stubborn wall and refuses to talk to me. Finally, we go head-to-head in a puck battle, and I have him against the boards. Instead of digging for the puck, I hold him there.

“I’m really fucking sorry, man,” I gasp as he elbows me in the side, trying to break free.

“I don't want to hear it, traitor,” he snarls, fighting me for the puck now as I put some effort into the drill.

“Too bad. You're my best friend, and I need to get this through your thick skull one way or another,” I manage before he reverses our positions and has me smashed into the glass. He’s big and broad, and much more comfortable with this kind of defensive position.

“I can’t believe you kept that from me for almost six months,” he explodes, shoving his stick against my back, the puck battle forgotten. “You were sneaking around, lying to me, and fucking him,” he seethes. “Some friend you turned out to be.”