Secret Obsession: A Dark Hockey Romance (Hockey Gods)

My family’s a lot to take in. If you take the charm and charisma that oozes out of Knox and multiply it by four, that’s my mother. She’s a natural beauty, the most popular woman I know, and the kindest, too. Knox got the asshole gene from my father.

Me, too, I guess.

They’re classic childhood sweethearts, their relationship beginning their sophomore year of high school and still going strong almost thirty years later.

I don’t know a lot about Willow’s family, but judging by her bewildered expression, it’s not like this. Oh, because my parents are currently dancing around the kitchen, Dad singing some off-key rendition of Frank Sinatra.

We’ve been here for an hour, in which my mother has tried—and failed—to get Willow out of her shell.

But my girl has been even more withdrawn lately. Freeman fucked with her head. I think she was fully convinced she was dying, and in some small way, made peace with it. Now, to find herself alive and well, has left her with a misstep.

Sometimes she wakes up crying, grasping my shirt and shaking uncontrollably. But only when we don’t sleep with the lights on.

Darkness scares her. And it doesn’t seem to be going away anytime soon. This fear has a chokehold on her, and I can only imagine what her brain processes when she’s waking up from a nightmare, only to be unable to see. Again. Like being tossed right back into the nightmare she lived.

Trauma runs deep. That’s clear to see. But she’s getting better. Inching past what happened to her. To us.

Because of our involvement with the investigation, and the lawyer’s strict instructions for us to stay in Crown Point until things resolved somewhat, we pushed off the trip to see my family until Caleb’s okay.

Apparently, a trip to see family is an acceptable reason to leave town.

So here we are.

It’s Thursday. We’re staying here tonight, in my old bedroom, and tomorrow we take the short drive to the away game. There are only a few games left of the regular season, which slips from winter into spring.

Another week, and spring break will be here.

Willow mentioned that her parents and sister are coming.

With everything that’s happened, I don’t think she’s even told them. Her phone remains dark and silent, except for the texts from Violet, Aspen, and Thalia. Those girls are lifelines Willow needs, but sometimes it’s not enough.

The front door opens, the familiar squeal of the hinges setting my teeth on edge, and my parents fall still. They exchange a glance, then look at me.

Guilty.

“You didn’t,” I accuse.

I rise from my seat beside Willow, where we had been talking—well, my parents and I carried most of the conversation—and stride for the foyer.

Mom chases me. “Miles—”

Knox is stripping off his coat and shoes, and his expression goes weird. Like he’s sorry for crashing? Doesn’t matter. His nose is still swollen from the last time I punched him, but my fist is clenched again, ready to break his face open.

“Miles,” Mom yells.

The loudness stops me.

Yes, she’s yelled before. But she hasn’t had to since we were kids. Okay, teenagers. Usually she lets us sort out our fighting or pushes us into the backyard with our hockey gear and tells us to work it out a different way.

But this is preemptive.

“Violence isn’t the answer,” she says in a low voice. “You will have to forgive your brother—”

“No,” I interrupt. “No, Mom, he’s done so many fucking shitty things to me and Willow. He knows I’m done with him.”

Hurt flashes across Mom’s face. But then resolve hardens it. “Well, he’s staying. He’s my son, too, and this is my house. You may not forgive, and you may hold a grudge forever, but you will coexist under my roof.”

I gaze at the ceiling and pray to whoever can hear me for strength.

Knox shakes his head and moves past me, kissing Mom on the cheek. She pats his arm and allows him to continue farther into the house.

But then he’d be alone with Willow and my father—

“Stop,” Mom says, catching my arm. “What is going on with you?”

“He gave her to a madman, Mom,” I whisper. “He knew I love her, and he still put her in danger.”

“For you. Because he loves you.” She searches my gaze. “You’ve told me about her before, haven’t you? Never by name. Over the years… I’ve been blind, I should’ve known it was the girl your brother was dating.”

I flinch.

“There’s something dark in both of you, and it happened outside of my control.” She presses her hand to my chest, right over my heart. “He’s your brother. He’s your blood. We all make mistakes, honey, don’t we?”

Yeah, we do.

“Has he apologized?”

I swallow. “Too many times.”

She smiles. “Well, that boy never apologized for a damn thing when you were kids. So I think he really means it.”

I grunt.

Finally, she lets me pass her and hurry back into the kitchen.

Knox has stolen my seat, and he’s pivoted toward Willow.

White-hot fury flashes through me. I stride forward and grab the back of his shirt, yanking him off the chair. He’s not expecting it, wasn’t braced, and slides off too easily. He stumbles, somehow remaining upright, as I drag him around the counter and shove him toward Dad.

“You keep six feet away from her at all times, and we won’t have problems,” I seethe. “I can’t leave you alone for a fucking minute, can I? You just—”

“He was apologizing,” Willow says from behind me.

I spin toward her.

Her blue eyes are bright with unshed tears. “He was just apologizing, Miles, it’s okay.”

“It’s not.” I glower at him.

Knox looks… maybe not dejected, but certainly not happy. He mutters something, rubbing the back of his neck, and leaves the kitchen without a word.

Dad watches me passively, but he returns to cooking dinner without a comment.

The lightheartedness from just a few moments ago seems broken.

Willow rises, taking my hand and pulling me into her. To my astonishment, she tips her head back and starts singing the Frank Sinatra song my dad was howling. She’s got a much, much lovelier voice, and I don’t resist the urge to sweep her into a dance.

A smile cracks her lips, even while she sings, for the first time in over a week.

Anything to distract her.

Or to make it better.

“I took care of the body.”

I face my brother.

After dinner, Mom tasked me with starting the fire. S’mores are on the menu, apparently, and the weather is just tolerable enough to be outside around the fire pit.

Willow is inside, shoulder to shoulder with my mom cleaning dishes.

“How’d you find it?” I finally ask, stuffing my hands in my pockets.

Daniel Freeman. He was the last missing piece, which Caleb Asher—Willow’s lawyer—recommended we take care of fast. I don’t know who told him the full story. Willow or Steele, who recommended him, or maybe Knox.

All I know is that it wasn’t me, but I did get a phone call from him late one night, saying that my best bet for not getting roped into any of this was to make it disappear.

Yeah, some lawyer.

Knox shrugs. “I went back through the conversations with the brother.”

Conversations, plural. Because the asshole called him after I was dragged out of the rental car, and then again once he had Willow.

“He wanted to make you pay,” he says quietly. “The grief had driven him mad. All I could think about this past week was where he might put his dead brother. Where I might put you, if someone had killed you.”

Gruesome. I wrinkle my nose and wave my hand for him to continue.

“Willow told Greyson and Steele that he mentioned framing her after the fact. After you were…” He swallows.

Guess he can’t say dead. Of course, that reminds me that I had a gun pointed at my forehead, and my ear is still ringing as my eardrum repairs itself. I came out of that basement with bruised ribs, a ruptured eardrum, and some scrapes and scratches. Oh, and a concussion from the car crash.

I faired better than Willow, whose toxicology results showed lingering drugs in her system. They set her up with an IV to help her body flush it. A doctor stitched the cut on her forehead, too, so cleanly the scar will be nearly invisible.

“He had him in Willow’s car,” he finally says.

My eyes almost bug out.

He shrugs. “You guys left it in front of her apartment after the break-in, and she was using yours for most of the time after. I doubt it was much trouble for him to get into it, and he stashed his brother’s body in the trunk.”

“Well, fuck.”

Knox raises his chin. “Yep. But as I said, it’s all taken care of. I grabbed her stuff out of it and dumped bleach in the back. It might be better off in a junkyard, honestly, the smell is eye-watering. And before you ask, I’m not going to fucking tell you anything else and incriminate you.”

I grunt. The urge to shove him into the fire is lessening, although it’s not the worst idea I’ve had…

“The detective has been documenting the harassment since the beginning,” he adds. “And she admitted to telling Willow about the other girl’s testimony. Caleb said it’s reasonable to assume that even if Freeman hadn’t drugged her and tried to kill her, simply being alone in a room with him would give Willow reason to fear for her life. I just wanted you to know that this case is going to close. It won’t be hanging over your heads forever.”

I blow out a breath. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Knox repeats.

“Yeah.” I extend my hand. “Thanks.”

After a beat, he shakes it. It’s weird, and not at all how I’d normally interact with Knox. But there’s something broken between us. This is just the first step to healing.

Setting the bone, no matter how painful.