Breakaway: An Accidental Marriage Hockey Romance (Sinners on the Ice)

We lost.

We fucking lost our first home game of the regular season.

We were losing two to one until Colton had a moment at the end of the second period and scored a perfect snap shot, tying the game. It gave us all a great boost of confidence, and made the fans go berserk. The arena was so loud, I didn’t even hear what my teammates were saying as we celebrated. We had a chance to win—until Järvinen from the Vegas team scored again. Two minutes before the third period ended, making the final score three to two.

I’m fucking furious.

“Were you trying to break the record for most minutes in the sin-bin?” Drake asks me as we finish getting dressed.

I ignore him. It’s better if I keep my thoughts to myself. No one is going to like it if I run my mouth and say things I’ll regret later. It’s not the first game we’ve lost. Not the first loss in my whole damn career. It’s just that some hit harder than others, and this one hit hard.

In Minsk time, it’s already my father’s birthday, and I desperately wanted to win tonight. To prove to him that he was wrong about me. Wherever he is, I wanted him to know that I was a talented player after all. Someone he always underestimated. The feeling of anxiety he induced in me, constantly pitting me and Maks against each other, never leaves my fucking head. Even though he’s dead.

A dead man plays on my nerves. His memory makes me doubt myself. A fucking ghost has power over my emotions, and the only feeling I have for him now is hate.

Grief, guilt, and self-loathing. The pillars my whole personality is built upon.

“You busted Karlsson’s lip pretty good.” Drake tries again, stepping closer to me. “He deserved it for checking Crawford into the board.”

“Ya znayu⁠1,” I grit through my teeth, buttoning my shirt.

“Benson.” Colton’s voice sounds stern. “Leave him alone.”

I glance to my right and meet Thompson’s eyes. He’s watching me with his eyebrows pulled together. I mouth thanks, and he nods. We’re different, but we’re so alike in some ways it’s scary. Broken people always see each other in a crowd. It’s like a sign we wear on our foreheads. Come and say hi; I’m fucked up just like you are. A sign I would love to ditch, to find something constant that would mend my heart and ease my pain. Someone who will embrace my chaos and bring peace to my exhausted soul, just like Ava did for Colt.

Just like Nevaeh does for me.

Her name flashes in my brain, and I ball my fists. I didn’t tell her about my father’s birthday and what this game means to me…and she fucking came dressed in Benson’s jersey. I have no right to be angry with her for that, but damn if it didn’t make my blood boil even more.

“It was still a great game.” A voice from my left reaches my ears, and I turn my head to look at Clay. He’s sitting on the bench, fully dressed and juggling a bottle of water. “And you played really well, Roman.”

Am I suddenly in some sort of support group?

“Thanks,” I reply curtly. I close my eyes, cringing at how bitter I sound.

Hockey is a team sport, and I shouldn’t act like a sore loser. I don’t blame my teammates, because Clay is right—we did our best. It just so happened that our opponent was a bit stronger and a bit luckier. And we can all act like crybabies, like I am now, or we can suck it up, let our loss soak in, and do better next time. It’s not the end of the world.

I turn around and look at my teammates. The corner of my mouth lifts into a crooked grin. “Sorry, guys; I’m acting like an asshole.” Chuckles of approval follow my words, and my lips ease into an open smile. “We played well tonight no matter what.”

“True,” Coach says as he steps into the room. He looks worn out, and I feel sympathetic toward him. Doing the postgame interview after the team lost at home isn’t pleasant. “We did a great job. Vegas used their opportunities in some key moments, and that’s something we will work on.” His gaze drifts to me, and his crystal blue eyes bore into mine. “And maybe keep our tempers under control, eh?”

With a jerk of my head, I hide my hands in my pants pockets. “Sure…”

“What was that, Pashkevich? It was like you nodded in agreement but also shook your head no.”

“Kinda.” I shrug.

Coach rolls his eyes. “At least you’re honest, da⁠2?”

“Da,” I confirm, and the locker room erupts into laughter.

Coach keeps talking about the team’s performance tonight, about his expectations for our next game, and also what he wants us to work on during practice. I fold my arms over my chest and listen absentmindedly. Looks like I still know how to pretend to be okay. My teammates and coach don’t even realize I’m hiding demons behind this carefree demeanor.

It’s better this way. My problems are mine alone; no one else needs to deal with them.

I get in the car and turn the volume up, and my brother’s playlist starts playing. I haven’t listened to it a lot since I moved to the US, mostly because sometimes it’s harder for me to remember English words if I spend hours with Russian music in the background. But today it’s the only thing I can count on to bring me some solace.

Max Korzh’s “Optimist” blasts through the speakers, and I smile involuntarily. This was Maksim’s favorite song, and the reason for my tattoo. Another dedication to my twin.

God, our father hated that we’d watch SpongeBob SquarePants. He’d tell us that it was the stupidest cartoon he’d ever seen, and that we would be just like its characters if we continued wasting our time on it. Little did he know how much that show helped us, relaxing our brains after practice and keeping us from worrying about anything. It was fun, light, and really ridiculous, but I think that was exactly why Maks and I loved it. We only stopped watching it when Alisa came into his life.

A wave of memories unexpectedly smacks me in the face. Horrid memories, ones I’ve tried to keep under wraps, are flooding my brain. It’s like one second there’s a light rain, but then it turns into a thunderstorm, flooding everything in its wake. My brother’s image pops into my head, and my chest constricts. I see him so clearly, it’s like he’s right beside me in the car. My words from that night zip through my mind, and I clutch the steering wheel tighter.

“Maks, it’s not worth it. Why can’t you wait? If she’s gonna spread her legs for him again, what can you possibly do about it? Just talk to her tomorrow.”

He pales. His eyes, which are just like mine, stare at me as if I just slapped him across his face. He sets his jaw hard. “I want to see her.”

“Polnaya huinya⁠3.” I shake my head. “Why? Alisa’s been using you and her ex for months. She tells you one thing and does the other. There are so many other girls who are more beautiful and way better than her. She’s just worthless⁠—”

Maks steps into me, grabbing my tee in his fist. “Another word, and I won’t care that you’re my brother.”

I stare at him, anger filling my every pore. “Whatever,” I tell him and break free from his hold. “If you want to be an idiot, be an idiot. I’m done here.”

Turning on my heel, I stalk away from Maksim. Disappointment slips into my veins, and I ball my fists hard. My knuckles are itching to hit something. Or someone. Anything to keep from bottling up these emotions.

“Roma,” my brother calls out to me. I stop in my tracks and wheel around to look at him. “Poydem so mnoy? Pozhaluysta⁠4.”

I purse my lips in a tight line, my annoyance growing stronger. He’s become such a pussy since they started dating. I hate it. “You’ll be fine.”

My eyes roam over his face, and I notice how tense he looks. How miserable. But I ignore it. I’m too damn furious with him. He’s in charge of his own life, and if he wants to spend it running after a girl who doesn’t give a damn about him, that’s his problem.

Without another word, I walk away. So proud of myself that I’m not like him.

“You know, I really hope you fall in love one day, so you can finally understand how I feel,” Maks yells after me. “And I hope she breaks your fucking heart, because that’s what you deserve.”

I laugh out loud and continue walking toward the club where our friends are. He can say whatever the fuck he wants. I’ll never be like him.

Ever.

The sound of tires screeching brings me back to reality. The black Range Rover to my left is trying to stop the car and avoid hitting mine. Blyat’⁠5. I step on the gas with all my might, speeding up and avoiding the crash by a hair.

Without stopping or even slowing down, I drive away from this damned intersection. The honking of cars grows more and more distant until I don’t hear anything except the music still booming in my car.

My heart is going crazy, and I can barely breathe. It’s back. The ugly truth of what really happened that night between Maksim and me. Something I’ve tried for seven years to forget, and something that will always be the reason why I can’t let go. The reason I feel guilty for living. The reason I hate myself to the fucking core.

I turned my back on the most important person in my life simply because I didn’t like the girl he loved. Because I didn’t think his feelings were valid and his hurt wasn’t reason enough for me to drop everything and support him. She was just a girl. One I didn’t think was a good match for him. Why bother?

The answer was so obvious, but I was too ignorant to see it then. He needed company, and he asked me to go with him. Maybe he needed support in order to finally put an end to their relationship. I didn’t fucking know what was on his mind, because I left him on his own. I betrayed him, and he turned to the only person who was always there for both of us. To Kirill. Even if Maks knew how drunk our friend was.

Something hot leaks down my cheek, and I wipe it away with my fingertips. Tears. Fucking tears spill out of my eyes, blurring my vision. I hurriedly park my car, unbuckle my seat belt, and start to bawl. The music drowns out my sobs, my shoulders shaking. I hide my face in my hands and let the tears flow.

Ya trus⁠6. A coward. I never told my mom about that conversation. No one knows. Not even the fancy therapists I saw. I was too scared Mom would be just like Dad, that she would despise me for what I did once I opened up to her.

And I couldn’t stand another parent hating me…so I started hating myself. For her and me both. Because that’s what I deserve.

Today. Tomorrow. Always.

Broken people carry their problems like a shield, hiding behind their trauma. I know, because that’s who I am.

Day by day, I’ve been mentally destroying myself, until it became my whole personality. My hurt buried itself so deep that even carving into my flesh won’t help to get rid of it. The pain became a routine. And there’s nothing I can do to change it.

Part of me died that night. My heart broke, and it was the loudest sound I’ve ever heard. It still echoes in my head, because I never recovered.

These broken pieces will never heal, and they’ll cut anyone who gets too close. They’re always there, pushing everyone to keep their distance, since it’s safer…

I sit up straight and lower my hands from my face. My eyebrows draw together as I look out the window. With a surprise, I realize that I’m in the parking lot of my apartment building. I didn’t even notice how I got here.

The thought begins to pulsate in my head. My brother’s last words sneak up on me, and I’m unable to stop myself from falling down the rabbit hole.

There’s someone who refuses to back down. Someone who thinks she can fix me. She’s waiting for me at home…and I’m so fucked up.

1 Я знаю — I know

2 Да — Yes

3 Полная хуйня (cuss word). — Total bullshit.

4 Пойдем со мной? Пожалуйста. — Come with me. Please.

5 Блять. — Fuck.

6 Я трус. — I’m a coward.