He wasn’t going to make this easy. “I’m sure you know I’m in a scoring slump.”

“Yeah.”

“I have a favor to ask as one teammate to another.”

“What?”

“I was wondering if we could put in an extra hour or so each day, me shooting the puck at the net and you deflecting it.”

He frowned, not wild about helping me with anything, but torn between helping a teammate and wanting me to fail.

“The team needs me to score.” I didn’t mention he would benefit from the extra practice. Better to put this on me and allow him to save face.

“Don’t we spend enough time together already?”

“What can I say? I’m a glutton for punishment.” I grinned at him. He scowled back.

“Fine. After practice.”

“Sounds good. Thanks.”

“Whatever.” He walked away to another weight machine, effectively cutting me off.

I was growing weary of his attitude. I’d been bending over backward to get along with him. Some days I took one step forward, other days two steps back. At least he hadn’t hit me again. I guess that was something.

~~Geneva~~

I was grateful to be doing the mindless task of folding towels. My mind worked overtime, and any other tasks required too much thinking. If I’d been sharpening skates, I’d probably have ground the blade down to the soles of the skates.

Bria’s words played over and over in my head. She wasn’t that crazy. She wouldn’t harm my brother or Axel or the kids. I was torn between warning him to be cautious and knowing he’d dismiss the entire claim because it came from Axel, which would cause even more strife between them. My brother didn’t need more to worry about.

Until I had proof to present to him, he’d never believe Bria was dangerous. Even I was having a hard time believing it. But the drinking and possible drugs? Was she thinking straight? Should she be allowed alone time with the kids? I might at least have a discussion with him about visitation.

This woman had been married to my brother for sixteen years and had five kids with him. Surely, she’d loved him at some point. Or had she loved his money?

They say you marry someone like your parents. Maybe Jock had married our mother. God only knew the woman should’ve never had children. Bria was cut from the same cloth. Narcissistic to a fault.

Still, I’d tread lightly. My brother was hurting, and so were the kids, and only time would heal their wounds and clarify who she really was.

When I finished the towels, I ventured out of the laundry room and down the hall to retrieve my lunch. I warmed it in the microwave and wandered into the practice facility. It was deserted except for Jock at the net and another player who was shooting puck after puck at him at rocket-fast speed. I stared harder, incredulous. The other player was Axel. My brother deflected every puck careening at him. Axel finally lasered a shot over Jock’s left shoulder that found the net. I wasn’t sure anyone would’ve been able to defend that one. Triumphant and rubbing it in, Axel danced around on the ice, hands raised in the air.