Blindsided (24 page)

Tanner blamed Isaac for a lot of things in his life, and Isaac would be the first to admit, he deserved at least a portion of the blame. He’d walked away from his brothers to play junior hockey in another state and never looked back. He’d abandoned them and left them to fend for themselves with a cruel, abusive father.

A few years later, Jenny forced them back together. They’d played nice for her, but without Jenny, nice ended abruptly in an explosion of alcohol-fueled anger, more than enough blame to go around, and grief none of them were equipped to handle.

It’d been a long, hard road, but with Avery’s help, Isaac forgave himself so he could move on and truly be happy. Now it was Tanner’s turn. Together they’d deal with Zeke, who’d refused any contact with the family since Jenny’s death.

Isaac drove like a bat out of hell to the address Tanner texted to him. The vague text message gave him hope until he rounded the corner and saw the blinking pink and purple neon sign.

Shit
. The dumb bastard was married, what the hell was he doing in a strip club? Not to mention his shaky position with the team. Isaac had heard the rumors about the rookie QB tearing it up in camp while Tanner entered his third mediocre year.

He pulled into a non-conspicuous spot in the lot and swore under his breath. He should beat some sense into Tanner, but that’d never gotten him anywhere in the past. Despite Tanner’s rep as a soft football player—something Isaac had never understood—Tanner was one tough son of a bitch. He could kick Isaac’s ass five times out of ten.

Slamming open the door, Isaac burst into the strip club, worried what his dumbass baby brother had gotten himself into now. The situation had to be catastrophic for him to turn to Isaac. He’d wring the prick’s neck if he cheated on Emma.

Isaac stopped in his tracks. He spotted Tanner immediately. His brother stood out with his big, lean athlete’s body even though he had a baseball cap crammed down so far it concealed most of his face. Tanner was tilted back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest in a defensive posture. His don’t-fucking-mess-with-me scowl kept the women away. Instead they flocked to the older man sitting next to Tanner who leaned forward, waving dollar bills with a huge, lecherous grin on his once handsome face which now showed the ravages of alcohol addiction.

Isaac’s entire body froze, his feet stuck to the floor, and every muscle tensed, begging him to turn and run out the door, never to look back. His bastard brother had fooled him. Just then Tanner glanced in his direction and caught sight of him. He waved him over. Their father didn’t bother to look his son’s way, too caught up with a dancer gyrating her booty in his face as he drooled and gaped at her with lewd intentions. Bile rose in Isaac’s throat at the disgusting sight.

Stalking across the tacky floor, Isaac dropped into the chair next to Tanner, positioning his brother as the buffer between Isaac and their father. John Wolfe glanced at him with a disinterested nod and refocused his full attention on the stripper.

Isaac glared at Tanner. “Why the hell did you call me here?”

“Misery likes company.” Tanner grinned, and Isaac wanted to throttle the asshole. He waved over the scantily clad and definitely rode-hard-and-put-away wet cocktail waitress and ordered Isaac a Pepsi.

“I’m going to kill you with my bare hands.”

“Been there, done that. I can beat your ass, big brother.” Tanner continued to grin, but his eyes were troubled.

“I’m leaving. I have nothing to say to this man, and obviously he could care less if I was here or not.” Isaac started to rise, and Tanner put a hand on his arm to stop him.

“I need your help.” His smile faded, and he chewed on his lower lip, a familiar sign he was worried.

Isaac sat back down, alarmed by the serious expression on his brother’s usually devil-may-care face. “What do you need?” Isaac fought to keep the hope from his voice.

“I need you to help me get him out of here.” Tanner paused as the waitress placed another tumbler of whiskey in front of the already wasted man. “He’s about to turn the corner from charming to belligerent to mean drunk. You know that story.”

“Do I ever. We all do.” Isaac watched as their dad grabbed a dancer by the hand and headed to one of the booths for a lap dance.

“If he makes a scene and people recognize me, I’ll be in deep shit with the team and even worse with Emma.”

“Maybe he’ll pass out.”

“If we’re lucky.”

“So you called me to help you get him out of here?” Isaac asked.

“Uh, yeah, he’s already been a major ass to Emma, and she’s barely speaking to me. Besides, you’re the only one who understands what I’m dealing with. Everyone else thinks we grew up with this model, middle-class life.”

Isaac drew in a deep breath. “Yeah, but I told Avery the truth. Why haven’t you told Emma?”

Tanner swallowed and stared at a point on the wall. “Because talking about it makes it real, and I don’t want it to be real.”

“You can’t change the facts.” Isaac pointed out quietly.

“Maybe not, but I can create new ones.”

Isaac chuckled. “We all cope the best way we can. I turned into a surly loner. Zeke compartmentalizes and disappears. You create an alternate reality.”

“Hey, we wrote the book on dysfunction thanks to that drunk over there.” Tanner pointed at the booth where their father disappeared.

“Yeah. I guess what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger.”

Tanner leaned over his drink. Finally he sat up straight, looking as if he were going to say something but thought better of it, and clamped his mouth shut.

Isaac didn’t push. They were getting along for the first time in four years, or at least they hadn’t come to blows. He’d take any improvement because having a relationship with Tanner was suddenly as important to him as winning the Cup or loving Avery.

So far, he had one out of three, and he’d scrap like hell to achieve the other two.

* * * *

After Tanner and Isaac dragged their passed-out father into a hotel bed and left him to sleep it off, they stood together on the sidewalk in an uncomfortable silence.

“Heading home?” Isaac asked casually, as if the answer didn’t matter to him, but Tanner had a hunch his response did matter.

“I guess. Emma’s pissed at me, and I need to beg forgiveness.”

“About him?” Ice guessed correctly in that uncanny way of his.

“Yeah.”

“I can’t even imagine him in the same room with Avery. She’d try to reform him. She likes projects.”

Tanner snorted. “That’d be the day.”

“You really do need to tell Emma.”

Tanner didn’t bother to play games. He knew what Isaac was talking about. “I can’t. She’ll see my fantasy father doesn’t exist.”

“Like she doesn’t see that now?”

“Yeah, well, I’m sure she’ll grill me.” Tanner checked his watch. “Can’t stay out late. Training camp tomorrow.”

Isaac jerked his chin in the direction of the hotel bar. “Got time for a drink?”

Tanner hesitated, no on the tip of his tongue, only he didn’t say no. “You buying?”

“Yeah, I’ll buy.”

“After all you have a big, fat new contract, and I’m still making rookie contract pennies.”

“You should’ve laced up the skates instead of strapping on a helmet.”

They walked into the bar and sat down at a private booth in a dark corner.

“You’ve seen me skate,” Tanner scoffed.

“Years ago. You weren’t half bad.”

The compliment surprised Tanner. All three brothers picked different sports mostly because they thought it’d prevent their father from pitting them against each other. It hadn’t.

“Tanner, not to beat a dead horse—”

“Don’t let Avery hear you say that.”

Isaac chuckled. “You should confide in Emma. Everyone needs someone. Take it from a man who swore he didn’t and found out he did.”

Tanner shook his head, oddly choked up. “We’re not like that.”

Isaac frowned and his brow furrowed. “Not like what?”

Tanner glanced around to make sure no one could hear. “You can’t tell a soul, not even Avery, though I guess it’s possible she knows the truth.”

“What truth?” Isaac’s puzzled expression almost made Tanner laugh. If his situation wasn’t so pitiful, he would’ve.

“We’re not in love,” Tanner said in a hushed tone. The admission gripped his stomach in a painful vise making him fear he might do something humiliating like throw up all over the Formica table top.

“You could’ve fooled me at the wedding.” Isaac smiled one of those infuriating smiles Tanner always hated, the one that said he knew the score and Tanner didn’t.

“It’s an arrangement until the end of the season. She makes me look good to Steelheads management, and I promised to help her get started with the singing career she’s always craved.”

Isaac scrubbed his face with his hands as if he couldn’t believe his brother’s admission. “You two seem so happy together.”

“Do we? I guess we are. She’s a fantastic cook and incredible in bed. And we have a lot of fun,” Tanner admitted.

“But this is just temporary?” Isaac’s skepticism confused Tanner. Usually his brother saw right through Tanner’s bullshit.

“Well, yeah, can you see me spending the rest of my life with one woman? Emma’s a one-guy woman. She deserves a man who’s faithful to a fault, a nice guy who’ll be a good father to her children, and a devoted husband who will love her forever. You know, the kind of guy who holds her hand in church. If I walked into a church, it’d probably be struck down by lightning.”

“That’s true,” Isaac joked. “You and me both.”

“Damn, she really has changed you. You’re telling jokes?”

“Uh, yeah, sometimes. And you weren’t paying one bit of attention to those strippers despite their best efforts. That’s not like you.”

Tanner ducked his head, embarrassed that his brother saw so much. “I’m off the market for now.” Lame excuse, but the best one he had at the moment.

By the look on Ice’s face, he didn’t buy Tanner’s excuse.

Tanner wasn’t sure he bought it himself.

* * * *

Emma lay in wait for Tanner, and she didn’t wait long. She’d been home about twenty minutes when he pulled into the garage. She met him in the hallway, hands on hips, guns drawn, ready to demand the truth. He came in the door and stopped in his tracks. His sharp quarterback’s eyes assessed her like he assessed the defensive formation before he called a play.

“’Fess up, buster.” She stood her ground.

“About what?” he asked, wearing his most innocent, boy-scout expression.

“Do I have to spell it out for you?” Emma kept her distance, keeping ample space between them. If she allowed him to touch her, she’d forget her mission, just like every other time. His tactics worked every time, but this time she’d be smarter.

He shrugged, skirting past her, and snagged a beer from the fridge, popping the top, and taking a long gulp before sprawling on the couch in the large family room which Tanner christened the man cave.

“Tanner,” she said, exasperated, “What about you and Isaac? And your dad?”

“Isaac’s my brother, and neither of us are overly fond of the old man. It’s that simple. End of story.”

She frowned and seriously considered throwing something at him. “Where is your father?”

“Passed out in a hotel room.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, Isaac helped me get him out of there before he made a scene.”

“Out of where?”

His expression became guarded, resembling that of a man treading lightly. “We went to a bar, and he disappeared. Finally after waiting over thirty minutes, I found him across the street at a strip club, half drunk, and throwing five-dollar bills around like they were monopoly money. He got so drunk, he passed out in the middle of a lap dance. Thank God no one noticed Isaac or me.” Tanner’s annoyance showed through loud and clear.

Emma giggled and her laughter escalated until she laughed her butt off and wiped the tears from her eyes. She could just picture those two big men trying to deal with this old, frail drunk, and not having a clue how to do it without drawing attention to themselves.

“I don’t think it’s funny,” Tanner pouted.

“It’s karma for you not warning me about him.”

Tanner smiled then. “Yeah, I guess it is. And I am sorry about that. I was in denial that he’d actually show up.”

“Why would you think that?”

“If you haven’t noticed, he’s not a father-of-the-year candidate.”

“I noticed. He’s also a sexist who thinks women should be barefoot and pregnant.” Emma’s temper flared as she recalled the callous way the man had treated her in their brief encounter.

Tanner raised one eyebrow. “Yeah, that’s him.” He crooked his finger at her, but she shook her head. “Ah, come on, baby. Come here. Your man needs you.”

Emma resisted. “Not so fast.”

He stuck out his lower lip in a perfect imitation of a little-boy pout. “Sweetheart,” he pleaded, a little too confident he could coerce her into forgetting about anything but getting naked.

“No.” Emma rested one butt cheek on the tall barstool in front of the built-in bar. “Tell me about your childhood first.”

“Tell me about yours,” he challenged.

“I asked you first. Besides mine isn’t nearly the mystery yours is. You were friends with Izzy.”

“She never said much, and I didn’t ask,” he hedged, as if stalling for time.

She tried a new tactic, begging. “Tanner, please, I want to know. It’s important to me.”

He sobered quickly, his green eyes gazing deeply into hers. She saw his vulnerability, his fear of being exposed. “Why? Why is it important?”

“Because I care about you, and I want to understand you better. We’re all products of our childhood.”

Tanner stiffened and looked away. Emma feared she’d said too much. She could feel him emotionally and physically withdrawing. “I can’t, Emma.” His voice sounded strangled, as if he regretted his inability to tell her.

“But Tanner—”

Tanner turned on her like a cobra striking. “No, don’t you understand? Don’t care about me. Don’t. You’ll only get hurt. This thing between us is fun and temporary. Please don’t try to make it any more than that.”