After He Cheated, I Chose My Brother's Hockey Rival

I had spent three years convincing everyone I earned my NHL job before my little brother ever wore a Chicago Forge jersey.

When Owen became the league's favorite rookie, fans still called me the sister who got lucky.

Nate was the only person who swore he saw Tessa, not Owen Hale's access pass.

When his freelance hockey channel nearly died, I covered our rent for four months and edited his sponsor reels after midnight.

He promised we were building a life, and I believed him.

At the Forge's sponsor bar, I carried his spare battery down the service hall because he said he was filming late.

I heard Blair Knox laugh behind the storage-room door.

Then I heard the man I loved kiss her.

I should have walked away.

Instead I pushed the door open and asked how long.

Nate looked at me like I was the interruption.

Cade Mercer, my brother's most hated rival, appeared at the end of the hall just as Nate grabbed my wrist.

"Tell her the truth."

"She'll never leave during Owen's rookie season."

"What if she does?"

"Without her brother, nobody in hockey knows who Tessa Hale is."

***

"Stop needing everyone to revolve around you like your brother," Nate wrote.

I stared at the text on my phone, the harsh glow of the screen burning my eyes. The post-game sponsor party roared around me inside the VIP lounge of the Lakeshore Arena, but my attention was locked across the room. Blair Knox was currently wearing Nate’s spare media credential, laughing over a martini while she tapped his chest.

"Hey, the rookie's sister!" A local dealership owner slapped the mahogany bar next to me. "Tell Owen great game tonight. That kid is the future of the Forge."

"I will," I said, forcing my customer-service smile.

"Make sure he keeps his head up on the ice," the man added, swirling his whiskey. "Mercer destroyed him in the second period."

"Owen can handle himself," I replied, swiping down to refresh the Chicago Forge social media analytics on my tablet.

Nate materialized from the crowd, smelling of expensive cologne and stale beer. He leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek. He only ever did that when he wanted something.

"Hey. Did you talk to the rep from Bauer yet?" he asked, tapping my tablet screen. "I need that connection for my freelance channel."

"I emailed him," I said. "Are we getting out of here soon? Our anniversary reservation was at eight. It's ten."

"I'm working, Tessa." He stepped back. "Just bring a spare lithium battery to the back service hall in ten minutes. My rig is dying."

"I stayed up until four in the morning cutting your sponsor reels so you'd have tonight free," I reminded him. "You said we were celebrating three years."

"And I said I'm working right now." He rolled his eyes. "Don't start a fight here."

He disappeared into the crowd before I could argue.

Ten minutes later, I carried the heavy battery down the concrete corridor toward the visiting team entrance. The air back here smelled of ice shavings and athletic tape.

Cade Mercer blocked the hallway.

The Denver Vipers captain leaned against the cinderblock wall, fully dressed in his custom navy post-game suit. He looked entirely unbothered by the swarm of reporters who had just grilled him about his on-ice brawl with my brother.

He caught my eye. "Hale. Your brother finally learned to keep his head up tonight."

I stopped walking. "Mercer, if you talked one less word per shift, the league might actually like you."

He let out a short, rough laugh. "Are you always this defensive, or just when Owen loses?"

"Are you always this arrogant, or just when you avoid a major penalty?" I countered.

He stepped aside, a smirk playing on his lips. "Have a good night, Tessa."

I walked past him, pushing toward the media storage room. A soft laugh echoed from the cracked door. Blair's laugh.

Then, Nate's low murmur.

The battery in my hand suddenly felt ridiculously heavy.

I pushed the door open.

Nate jumped back. A smear of cherry-red lipstick stained the corner of his mouth. Blair stood beside a stack of Pelican equipment cases, aggressively smoothing her skirt.

Nate didn't wipe his mouth. He glared at me. "Why do you always have to make a scene at my work?"

"How long?" I asked.

"You walked in without knocking," Blair muttered, crossing her arms.

"I said, how long?" I stepped further into the small room.

Nate stepped in front of Blair, shielding her from me. "You've spent the last six months obsessing over Owen's schedule and the team's PR crises. Don't act like you've been present in this relationship."

"I paid your rent for four months last year," I said. "I edited your videos when your channel tanked."

"Paying my rent doesn't mean you bought my life!" Nate snapped.

"Just tell her the truth, Nate," Blair urged from behind him.

Nate scoffed, looking me up and down. "You won't leave this job during Owen's rookie season. And you won't leave me. Because without your brother, nobody in hockey knows who Tessa Hale is."

I lifted my hand to drop the battery at his feet.

Nate lunged forward, his fingers digging into my wrist with painful force. He stared at the Forge media camera strapped across my chest. The red recording light blinked in the dim room. I had left it running after filming the sponsor toast.

"Delete that footage," he demanded, squeezing my bones together.

"Let go of me."

"Not until you format that card."

"Let her go."

Cade stood in the doorway. He didn't yell, but the sheer size of him filled the space.

Nate whipped around. "Mind your own business, Mercer."

Nate shoved Cade's chest. Cade didn't budge an inch.

Cade's fist shot out, connecting with Nate's jaw with a sickening crack. Nate slammed into the drywall and slid to the floor.

Camera flashes lit up the hallway behind Cade. Three fans with phones had followed the Vipers captain from the bar.

Chaos erupted. Security guards swarmed the hall. Within minutes, someone shouted about a video on social media titled 'Vipers captain attacks rival-team staffer's boyfriend'.

Nate scrambled up, wiping a streak of blood from his chin. He grabbed my elbow, pulling me into a quiet corner while security held Cade back.

"Tessa, listen to me," Nate whispered, his tone suddenly desperate. "Delete your raw footage."

"You're out of your mind."

"Tell them Mercer attacked me unprovoked." He tightened his grip on my arm. "If you do this, I'll go home with you tonight. I'll explain everything with Blair. We can fix this."

I stared at him. The man I had supported for three years was bargaining his infidelity against a lie. That sentence sobered me completely.

I yanked my arm away.

I unclipped the camera strap from my neck and walked straight over to Marisol Vega, our PR director, who was barking damage control into her cell phone.

"Marisol," I interrupted. I shoved the camera into her hands. "Post the full timeline. Do not cut the second Nate grabbed me."

"Tessa, wait!" Nate yelled.

I pushed through the loading dock doors into the cold Chicago night.

I was halfway to my apartment, thinking I could finally pack Nate's things into garbage bags, when my phone rang. Marisol.

"Did you post it?" I asked, answering on the first ring.

"I did," Marisol said, her voice tight with corporate stress. "The raw video proves Cade didn't start it, but it also proves he escalated a physical altercation."

"Good for him."

"The league held off on an immediate suspension pending review."

"Why are you calling me about the Vipers' captain?" I asked, unlocking my front door.

"Because your raw video is the only reason Mercer isn't suspended tonight," Marisol said. "So starting tomorrow morning, you're the one fixing his image."