Chapter Two

Calgary’s Olympic village was impressive.

Dan knew there had been controversy around it, as there usually was surrounding most Olympic sites, but he hadn’t paid much attention. He was supposed to be partnering up with a teammate from Manhattan who’d also made the U.S team, but he wasn’t in the room.

Dumping his bag on the bed furthest from the door—Dan had no intention of late night ventures though he was certain Rafael would—Dan collapsed backward, staring up at the bland ceiling. The duvet was an Olympic nightmare; displaying the event logos. Dan rolled his eyes. Everything was so much when it came to the Olympics.

Kayla would be somewhere in the Team USA quarter, and Ian would be off somewhere doing his thing. Dan could go and find them, or he could stay in his room and pretend that the world didn’t exist for a bit longer. There was always the allure of the rink, of course, somewhere they had access to, and a weight room and all the perks and draws of being an athlete, but Dan’s melancholy mood didn’t seem to be shifting.

When the door to the room was thrown open not ten minutes later, Dan started, turning to see Rafael standing in the doorway, bag over one shoulder, and narrowing his eyes.

“Who says you get that bed?”

“The person who was here before you,” Dan said dryly. “Not my fault you’re slow.”

Rafael flipped him the bird but took the other bed with no further complaint. “Your brother’s down in the lobby starting shit.”

Dan snorted. “Of course, he is.” When Rafael kept staring at him, Dan shrugged. “I’m not going to do anything about it.”

“He’s chatting up one of the women on the hockey team. Dunno her name.”

“At least it’s hockey,” Dan said dryly. “Mom will be pleased.”

Rafael was no stranger to Dan’s bitching, everything from his siblings, to his mom, to his ailing love life. The last wasn’t as descriptive as Dan could make it, but still. Rafael was probably tired of hearing about Maryse Matthews and her numerous failings as a mother.

“Dunno that she’d be that happy with this one,” Rafael said, amused. “He’s trying to get into bed with Helena Fairchild.”

“Shit.”

Helena Fairchild was what Dan’s mother called “everything wrong with women’s hockey.” She’d probably narrow everything wrong with any hockey down to Helena. Daughter of a family friend turned pariah, Helena played quick and dirty hockey, something Maryse couldn’t abide. Ian had once tried to rile her up by claiming he was going to become an enforcer, and she had hit the roof. Helena was small but deadly with a stick, not afraid to go deep and test the penalty minutes with checking.

Dan thought she had guts, even if he didn’t personally know—or want to know—her.

Rafael gave him an evil grin. “We could always go watch your brother strike out.”

“Or worse,” Dan said, sitting up anyway. “We could always watch him score and I’ll have to tell mom.”

“Or, and bear with me because this is gonna be world-changing,” Rafael said with a roll of his eyes, “You could wait for Ian to tell your mom.”

It was never going to happen, but Rafael wasn’t stupid enough to say anything when Rafael was clearly sick of his whining. Following Rafael from the room, Dan ducked to the left as a couple of women jogged past, waving a hand in apology. Dan vaguely recognized them from figure skating, faces he’d seen only while watching his sister.

“With both you and Ian on the team, we might actually stand a chance.” Rafael nudged him with his elbow. “If your brother remembers he’s a forward and not a D-man.”

“Doubtful,” Dan said, without malice. His brother was a two-way forward, focused as much on defense as he was at taking faceoffs and making chances, but lately, he had been building up a steady stream of penalty minutes. Dan hoped it had nothing to do with Helena.

By the time they made their way down to the lobby, Ian was spread comfortably on one of the couches, talking to a redhead who, out of her helmet, looked calm and happy, a bright smile on her face. It was a far cry from the firecracker Dan was used to seeing skating down the ice. Next to her was a skinny guy with glasses that Dan didn’t recognize.

“Simon,” Rafael added in helpfully, and there was something that brought him up short, but he couldn’t pinpoint why. “Fairchild’s bestie and a figure skater, if you’ll believe.”

Dan did believe but he didn’t say so. He’d always thought of figure skaters as stick-thin and weedy, unable to stand the pressure of something like hockey. It was a little short-sighted of him and he was sure Kayla would have choice words for him if ever said so out loud, but he was susceptible to social pitfalls like everybody else.

“Dan!” Ian waved him over with a smile, and Helena and Simon both looked up.

Dan sighed, resigning himself to learning everything about Helena in a twenty-minute period, and headed for one of the couches on the opposite side to his brother. “I didn’t know you were already here.”

“I got in yesterday morning,” Ian said, and there was the frown Ian was expecting. “You stopped texting, otherwise you’d know.”

“Yeah, Kayla’s already yelled at me for that, thanks,” Dan said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And yes, I’ll call Max later.”

Brotherly duties done, and ignorant of the looks Rafael, Helena, and Simon were sharing, Ian waved a hand at Helena, looking besotted. Dan tried not to openly retch in his face. “This is Helena.”

“I know,” Dan said, giving her the once over. “You look different when you’re not picking up penalty minutes.”

Ian’s eyes narrowed and even Rafael looked startled, but Helena just laughed. She was pretty, not that she hit any of Dan’s buttons, but he could see why Ian was smitten.

“I do try and stick to the rules off the ice.”

“Pity,” Dan said. He might have liked her a little more. Which wasn’t fair because he didn’t know her, but something about the way Ian was acting around her set him on edge. Ian didn’t need the distraction, not right now.

Helena didn’t seem put off by his demeanor, though Ian’s clenched jaw meant Dan would be hearing from him about this.

“You gotta work on your social skills, man,” Rafael said, looking exasperated. “This is not how you make friends.”

Dan shrugged, ignoring the laughter around him. “I didn’t know friends would win me a medal.”

“You mean gold medal,” Ian said, without heat.

Simon looked wistful. “Gold would be nice.”

“I dunno,” Dan said, throwing an arm across the back of the couch. “Silver or bronze would work just as well.”

“You shut your mouth,” Ian and Rafael said at the same time.

Honestly, Dan would be genuinely happy with a bronze or silver. Still, he knew when to keep silent and let talk rise again around him, Simon interjecting here and there, even when the conversation turned to hockey. Dan was feeling antsy again, desperate to get out there and do something. USA’s first game wasn’t for a couple of days, and there was the opening ceremony before that, so Dan doubted he’d get time to skate alone. Unless he found somebody who would be willing to break the rules for him.

“You have that look,” Rafael said, during a lull.

“What look?”

“Crazy around the eyes,” Ian agreed. “I need to get a stick to the ice kind of crazy.”

Dan glared. “I don’t have a face.”

“Well, you kinda do,” Simon said, and Helena smothered a laugh behind her hand. At Dan’s withering look, Simon shrugged, looking mildly terrified, but didn’t retract his statement. At least Dan still frightened someone.

“You’re my brother,” Ian pointed out, oh, so helpfully. “I think I know when you wish you were on the ice, knocking pucks about. I could always take a picture and send it to Kayla, see what she says.”

“Fuck off,” Dan said immediately. She would agree with Ian on principle just to mess with him.  

Helena was watching him thoughtfully. “I know someone who might be able to get you into a rink around here if you’re desperate.”

“You do?” Ian asked.

“No,” Dan said.

“We’ll go with you,” Rafael said, clapping his hands together. “I don’t mind getting my skates wet.”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Dan said weakly, as Helena bounded to her feet, reaching out a hand to help Simon to his. “Will your friend even mind?”

“I doubt it,” Helena said with a wave of her hand. “He owes me a favor.”

Dan didn’t want to know—or ask—what this friend had done to earn a favor from Helena, but he was clearly outvoted and trailed behind the group as they made their way out of USA’s village quarter, unnecessarily loud. He hoped that nobody was trying to sleep off jetlag, because they would be sorely disappointed.

Helena’s friend was apparently eating at a restaurant in the village. They probably weren’t going to want five people trooping into their private time demanding access to a rink.

“Maybe we should let them eat?” Dan said faintly.

Helena had her arm linked through Ian’s and she didn’t look contrite. “He won’t mind. He said to bother him whenever.”

“I don’t think he meant this,” Dan tried again, words falling on deaf ears. Having a strong backbone wouldn’t just help when it came to his mother. On the ice, he was more than fine with standing people down and doing what was required of him. Off the ice, he found it difficult to get what he wanted from people, even when he was screaming in their face. Hockey players were supposed to be intimidating, weren’t they?

The restaurant had a patio and despite the cold weather, there were groups of athletes already seated outside and in, laughing and mingling together. Dan wasn’t surprised to see different colored jackets out in the cold Calgary air. While the Olympics were competitive, behind the scenes, these people had been competing with or against each other for years. There was a certain level of respect, friendship even, that blossomed between competitors at times.

Helena wound her way through tables and Dan heard someone shout, “Biscuit!”

“Bobby,” Helena said warmly, at the same time Rafael let out a stunned laugh and said,

“You know Bobby Lake?”

“Bobby?” Dan said, peering around Rafael and stopped short.

Well fuck.