Devious Obsession: A Dark Hockey Romance (Hockey Gods)

Lennox and Dakota are beside themselves to meet Steele. They, along with Mom and Stephen, are sitting at a table in their hotel restaurant. The restaurant seems to be doing some sort of late-night service, perhaps to accommodate people who traveled to attend the game. It’s surprisingly busy in here.

Len finds us right away, and she jumps up and rockets over to me. She hugs me hard, like I didn’t just see her a few hours ago, and then faces Steele.

Dakota is slower to approach but no less awestruck.

I’m pretty sure the bruise on his cheek and split lip doesn’t help her budding infatuation.

Their eyes rounded, they take him in.

And then the questions start.

“How do you skate so fast?”

“Does it hurt to hit the glass?”

“What’s your favorite movie?”

“Why’d that guy hit you?”

“How do you know when to get off the ice?”

“Why did the ref blow the whistle so many times?”

“Who—”

“Okay,” I interrupt, holding back my laugh.

Stephen and my mother are still at the table, talking with their heads bent. So clearly, they’re not bothered by the girls’ interrogation. But Steele looks vaguely uncomfortable, his gaze darting between the two of them like they’re radioactive.

“Youngest is Lennox. The surly one is Dakota.”

“I’m not surly,” Dakota replies, frowning.

I ruffle her hair. “Right.”

“So?” Len asks, still staring at Steele.

“Oh.” Steele pauses. He finds his father and my mother, and perhaps draws the same conclusion that I did. He refocuses on my sister. “Um, the ref blows the whistle when one of the players does something wrong.”

They nod along.

“Okay, you can ask him more questions next time.” I herd them toward the table, dodging a harried server. “We’ve got to talk to Mom.”

“Are you okay, Asp?” Len tugs on my hand.

I pause. “Of course I’m okay. Why?”

“Stephen said you might have to go away.” Her eyes fill with tears.

Go away? What the hell does that mean?

Pushing that foreboding aside, I follow Dakota and Steele to the table. Mom and Stephen are already greeting Steele. Mom shakes his hand, and then Stephen does, too. I can’t help but feel a pang at that. No hug? He hasn’t seen his father in months—since before the summer, obviously. And they’ve already demonstrated their lack of relationship, what with the whole spying thing.

“Girls, go up to the room and get ready for bed.” Mom gives them both pats on their shoulders and steers them past me. She hands them a room key, and they take off without a backward glance.

Steele and I sit across from them. I don’t bother looking at him. Really, I just don’t want to deal with his shitty attitude toward my mom. He just met her, but he’s been judging her for months.

It’s not really fair.

“Aspen.” Mom reaches across the table for my hands.

I give them to her, offering her a small smile. “Hi, Mom.”

“Honey, we’re worried about you.”

I try to pull back, but she holds fast.

My smile wavers. “What do you mean, you’re worried? I’m fine.”

Her gaze darts to her new husband. Letting him take over?

He clears his throat and faces me. “We saw the video, Aspen. And frankly, it’s alarming. The school recommended you to the counselor, of course. We’re happy that you went. Upon further discussion with a doctor friend, however, we think it’s best if you had a little more structure.”

I slowly retract my hands. “You talked to a doctor? About… the video?”

He frowns. “Yes. And more structure presents itself as an inpatient hospital for an evaluation, and it would simply cut into the semester.”

Inpatient hospital?

Because they think I’m crazy?

“I wasn’t suffering a psychotic break,” I say through my teeth. “I was drugged.”

By your son.

Mom cries out at that admission, covering her eyes with her hand. The huge, stupid ring on her finger stares at me.

My stomach knots. And for some reason, I know that she won’t be on my side for this. That whatever way Stephen and Steele spun this, it’s already locked in.

“You were drugged,” Steele’s father repeats, as skeptical as the counselor. “Or, more likely, you thought to experiment and suffered the very obvious consequences?” His chin lifts. His expression, his whole demeanor, has shifted. Gone are the days of shorts and t-shirts at home, of the throwaway smiles he’d shoot my way. He made us all feel at ease and welcome over the summer, but it’s so far away from here. Now, he’s all business. This is just another deal he needs to negotiate.

“Aspen, you are dealing with a lot of pressure. It’s only natural that you’d crack.” Stephen offers me a small smile, but it’s so fucking cold. “We want what’s best for you—and right now, that means getting you outside help.”

My mouth opens and closes.

I’m over eighteen. They can’t do that, right? I mean—he’s not even my father. Mom could get me committed involuntarily, maybe. But she wouldn’t do that. Even at this moment, when she can’t meet my eyes.

A chill races up my spine, and then the sick feeling twists my gut. I’m going to be sick.

Steele sighs. “I don’t think that’s necessary, Dad.”

My heart skips.

“You have an opinion on this?” Stephen focuses on his son.

“I do. I think Aspen’s now tied to your name. People on campus know her mother married you. So… if you send her away, that’s going to get out. Media slander, campaigns about how you’re no better than Snow White’s evil stepmother.” His gaze flicks to my mom. “Except her real parent is still alive.”

His father scoffs.

But… maybe he looks a little unsure.

“What do you propose?” he asks.

Steele puts his hand on my shoulder, and I jump. “We have the extra room in the hockey house. She’ll move in so I can keep an eye on her.”

I frown.

Mom does, too. “You want my daughter to move into a house with a bunch of…”

“I know them all, Mom,” I blurt out. I knock Steele’s hand off my shoulder. “It’s not, um, the worst idea I’ve heard.”

Although Uncle will probably murder Steele when he finds out.

“Have you heard from Dad?”

Mom stops moving. Stops breathing, really. I wonder if Steele realizes that I just completely freaked her out in five simple words.

“No… I haven’t. Have you?”

I narrow my eyes. Do I mention the money? Or Uncle? “Nope.”

“How was Spain?” Steele asks suddenly. “Did you have a good trip?”

I’ve never been so glad to have a change of subject. I let out a slow breath when their attention diverts to Steele.

“It was beautiful,” Mom answers. “And congratulations on your hockey game. It was nice to get to watch you play after your father talked you up.”

“Where in Spain did you go?” I ask.

“Madrid first, and then we stayed in a small villa on the west coast. The girls got to practice a bit of their Spanish.” She smiles.

I almost feel bad for bringing up Dad. Almost.

“The game was good,” Stephen says. “Your fight was… interesting.”

“Scouts like some aggression.” Steele shrugs and leans back. His shoulder brushes mine. “Plus, the guy had it coming.”

“Well, if you say so.” His father picks off some invisible lint from his sleeve. “It’s late, and I think we’re going to retire to the room.”

They rise. We do some awkward version of a goodbye—Mom hugs me while I remain sitting. I don’t really hug her back, a sour taste on my tongue. Stephen and Steele shake hands again, and Mom ends up patting his shoulder on the way past.

We watch them go.

“Thanks for coming, asshole,” Steele says under his breath.

I sigh. “All that, and we didn’t even get a drink out of it.”

Steele leans forward and snags the two glasses left behind. They didn’t even bother finishing their drinks—there’s a finger’s worth of an amber liquid in a rocks glass and half a pour of red wine left in Mom’s. He hands me the wine, and I roll my eyes. We clink the glasses in a silent cheers and down the liquid.

The wine is dry, but I ignore the bitter taste. It seems to fit how I’m feeling toward Mom right now anyway. Why didn’t she say anything? Or stick up for me? The delayed hurt that comes from her silence is worse now than hearing Stephen suggest it for the first time.

“So, a mental institution.” Steele sets down the glass. “I didn’t see that one coming.”

“Oh, you didn’t predict that would be his reaction?” I scowl. “Probably didn’t think he’d pull my funding for school. So even if I move into your house—which I’m not—it would only be for a month. No more CPU for me.”

He narrows his eyes. “It was more of an effort to stop him believing you if you tried to convince him of anything I was doing. He pulled the tuition money for next semester? Already?”

“Covering your own ass,” I mutter. I flag down a waiter. “Two glasses of your top-shelf whiskey, neat. Doubles.”

He eyes us, then the glasses in front of us. He nods once and disappears.

“You want to get drunk, little viper?”

I grit my teeth. “Why do you call me that?”

“That’s for me to know.” He nudges me. “We won’t let my father ship you off somewhere.”

That’s nice of him to say. Too bad, though, because I don’t believe it.

We sit in silence until the waiter comes back. I take a sip of the smokey, caramel liquid. It burns a path down my throat, but I appreciate the sting. We sit and drink, and finally, when my limbs feel a little less heavy, I sigh.

“Mom needs your father more than she needs me,” I whisper.

He glances at me sharply.

“What?” I finish my whiskey and stand. It doesn’t burn anymore. In fact, it tastes kind of good now that my taste buds are numb. “Did you think she just got married for his money? Oh… that’s right, you did think that. Because we can’t have any deeper motive than that.”

He stands, too, and takes my arm. I don’t realize how much I was wobbling until I stop. Oops.

“Are you going to explain it, then? Since you obviously know.”

“Nope. Not gonna tell you.” I snort. “We should’ve drunk at our own damn hotel.”

He sighs and follows me out. All the way onto the street. I glance over and realize he’s still carrying his bag. And my purse, too. The strap is sticking out of the bag he’s carrying, like he shoved it in there without thinking.

Nice.

Maybe.

Unless he was stealing.

Not that I have any money or anything particularly interesting at all in there. Just a few tampons, you know, just in case. A compact mirror. That dark-red lipstick I put on earlier and forgot to reapply. Which I actually wiped off between the second and third period, afraid of getting it everywhere when I met up with Steele.

Look at me, thinking ahead.

I smile to myself and walk faster. The stadium is all lit up from the outside. Workers cleaning up, maybe? Hopefully no one witnessed our Zamboni adventure. Wouldn’t that be awkward…

Then Stephen would definitely lock me up.

A giggle slips out, and it’s like a dam breaks. I can’t contain my laughter.

Steele wraps his arm around my waist, keeping me upright. The laughs burst out of me, and tears slip down my cheeks. I can’t breathe.

It’s not funny.

It’s so not funny.

“Up you go,” Steele grunts, lifting me into his arms. One under my knees, the other across my back. And he’s got his bag over his shoulder to boot.

I kiss his cheek.

He stops walking and glances at me, brow furrowed. “What was that for?”

“The lift. And… I mean, I’m glad I get to finish the semester. It gives me a chance to plot my escape.” I tuck my head in the crook of his shoulder and neck, closing my eyes.

“Escape?”

“Well, I’m not going to be locked up. This isn’t the first time I’ve hidden from someone, Steele.” I wasn’t supposed to say that. I press my lips together, but the words are out there.

My bad.

“I’m not even that drunk,” I mutter. “It was just some wine and the equivalent of two shots.”

“Maybe you’re a lightweight,” he replies.

“Maybe we should go dance.”

“I’ll do the horizontal tango with you.”

I pout. “Steele. We never get to dance. We’re in New York. It’s time to party and celebrate your win.”

He rolls his eyes. “Let me drop my bag off at the room, then we can go find the others.”