Alexei (Chicago Blaze 5)

“What do you fight about?”

I exhale hard. “Usually, his opinions about me.”

“Meaning…?”

“He thinks I need to take things more seriously. Be more like him.”

“What’s he like?”

My lips quirk up in a smile. “Responsible. Serious. Boring. But if anyone else talks shit about him, I’ll beat their ass.”

“Do you agree with him that you aren’t responsible?”

“I don’t know…I don’t meet his definition of responsible, but I’m not trying to.”

“Has it always been this way between the two of you?”

I nod. “He resents that I didn’t have to work as hard at hockey as him.”

“Why didn’t you have to work as hard?”

“I guess it just came more naturally for me. He was always the first one at the rink and the last one out.”

“But you both made it to the NHL. Are the two of you competitive?”

“Yeah, but it’s all in good fun.”

Graysen gives me another long, wordless stare. Even though it’s our first session, I can already read that look. It says bullshit.

“Aren’t all siblings competitive?” I ask. “Especially when they play the same sport?”

“There’s nothing inherently wrong with the two of you being competitive.”

I take a breath in and let it out, thinking about it. “We’re both first line centers. At least, we were. I guess now I’ll be on the second or third line. If I even make it back,” I say, a sudden feeling of doubt creeping in.

“But you want to make it back?”

“Hell yeah. I’ve still got some good years left in me. Maybe three or four, at least. And I’m not retiring because I smashed a barn with my car.”

“Why does that bother you?” Graysen crosses her legs, drawing my attention. She’s wearing a long-sleeved sweater dress with black leggings and boots today, but I can still tell she’s got nice legs. Too bad they’re wasted on a ballbuster.

“Alexei?” She prods me, a hint of annoyance in her tone. I think I just got caught checking her out.

“Um…” I shift my gaze back to hers. “I guess because it’s a weak way to go out. And I’m just not ready to retire. I love hockey.”

“Do you realize your drinking has affected something you love?”

Graysen’s tone is warm as she delivers this verbal blow, but I still don’t like it. I have to convince her I’m seeing the light, but it’s hard for me to pretend I’m some out of control alcoholic.

“I guess it has. But wasn’t it mostly just poor judgment? If I had called an Uber, none of this would have happened.”

“Do you think maybe your judgment isn’t as sound when you’re drinking?”

I grunt in response, tired of this charade.

She continues. “You’re not alone—that’s the case for most people.”

“Have you ever done anything epically stupid after drinking?”

Her lips tighten into a thin line. “No, but we’re not talking about me.”

“When do we get to talk about you?” I smile flirtatiously.

She softly exhales through her nose, as if she’s counting to ten in her head. She’s aggravated with my attempts to disarm her.

“Do you want to stop for today?” she asks me.

“Uh…isn’t that up to you?”

She shakes her head. “It’s always up to the patient whether to attend their sessions. Forcing someone doesn’t lead to progress.”

“Huh. I didn’t know that. You’re saying I could’ve slept in today?”

She slides her pad of paper into a folder and offers another tight smile.

“Let’s try again tomorrow.”

“I’m willing to stay if you want me to.”

Graysen stands up. “We’ve still got a group session this afternoon; I recommend you come to it. And we’ll try another one on one in the morning.”

I can’t help it—I check out her legs again. She’s got curves for days. I’m gonna have to be a little more subtle with my seduction of her, but I don’t mind. Flirting with Graysen is no chore, even if she is shutting me down. We’re clearly incompatible, but I can’t deny she’s attractive, in a sexy librarian kind of way.

I’ve got time, though. Thanks to my fucking hip, I’m in no shape for hockey yet. I’ll keep attending my therapy sessions, including the physical rehab that starts soon.

She looks walks over to her office door and opens it, dismissing me. I just nod as I walk out, because clearly she’s not in the mood for a wink.

Graysen’s a mystery I’m going to have to unravel. She doesn’t wear a wedding ring, but what if she’s one of those women who’s married but just doesn’t wear one?

She’s clearly a good girl. If she’s got a man, charming my way to a quick graduation from rehab is gonna be harder than I thought.

Harder, but not impossible.5GraysenI drop my bag on the kitchen table with a sigh, and Amelia looks up from the TV show she’s watching.

“Long day?” she asks.

“Very.”

“Want some ramen? I made extra.”

I smile as I look at the ancient stockpot on our stove. We bought it from an estate sale for $1 in college, and we’ve cooked many batches of ramen in it over the years. Amelia still eats it regularly, but I’m over it. Just the savory, salty smell is a trigger to check my bank balance to make sure it’s not overdrawn. Back in my college days, ramen was a necessity. These days I can afford to spend more than $0.39 on every meal. Maybe not much more, but more.