2. Brooks #2
Every one of us knew Beckett was in love with Liv—and had been for years—before they got married in Vegas.
Everyone except Liv, that is. As head of PR for Langfield Corp, she has this eerie way of seeing and preparing for every situation and eventuality.
Beckett’s attraction to her was her one blind spot.
They may have gone into the marriage to fix Beckett’s image, but the moment she became his wife, he made it clear that his feelings were real.
Then he proceeded to purchase every house on the block where she lived with her friends.
Now they all live side by side in individual brownstones, though they’re still raising their kids as one large, nontraditional family unit. It’s strange, but it works for them.
Liv is one of the coolest women I’ve ever met.
She’s down-to-earth, and she doesn’t let Beckett get away with anything.
Not to mention she has all of our backs.
Not because she’s the head of PR, but because she’s our sister.
I love her to death. But when she’s pissed off…
Shit, Beckett is lucky he got a dog, because he’ll be living in the doghouse for a while.
Gavin: Without Liv’s knowledge?
Beckett: Sends pic of dog look at him. He’s so ducking cute. What was I supposed to do? Seriously, Gav. I need you to have my back. I need a story. Give me something to work with here.
I screenshot the entire text chain and send it to Sara.
Sara: Awe, that puppy is so cute! But yeah, Liv is going to kill him. I’d pay to see what she does to him tonight.
Me: Why don’t you come with me?
Those three dots that signal she’s responding dance on the screen, then disappear. When they don’t reappear and no message comes through, I slide the phone into my locker. I don’t have time to wait for Sara to make a decision. I have to get to practice.
As we make our way out to the ice, my heart trips over itself. Because there, standing beside Coach, is Sara. Her smile is wide and her eyes are bright. The girl is a breath of fucking fresh air in a space that often smells like gym socks and moldy food.
Or maybe that’s just McGreevey beside me. He blames American food. I blame the Canadian’s obsession with ketchup.
He nudges my side, and I finally remember to breathe.
It’s always like this.
Chest aching, lungs seizing, lightheaded, and feet floating an inch off the ground.
Will it ever not be like this?
Her blond hair is up in a ponytail, highlighting her high cheekbones and sleek jaw line. She is stunning. Blue eyes, creamy skin, button nose, and that goddamn smile.
As soon as she spots me, her eyes light up. “Looking good, Brookie!”
I roll my eyes and shake my head, mouthing, “Cut it.”
As we approach, I nod a hello to Coach, but my focus remains on Sara. “What are you doing here?”
“Came to see my favorite guys practice for a bit before I head up to the office.” Her eyes dance. “Although after what you told me about Beckett, I may hide out here for a bit. Hope he doesn’t tell her while they’re at work.”
“Can’t believe you’re walking so easily after Brooks had you awake all night,” Daniel Hall chimes in. Kids a menace. He’s obviously earned the Playboy nickname.
I’m glaring at him as Coach blows his whistle. “Enough fucking around. On the ice.”
With a wink at Sara, I push off the door to head to my spot in the crease.
Coach’s voice stops me halfway there. “You know the rules. No fucking the staff.”
My stomach sinks, and I quickly turn to Sara.
She looks as shocked as I do. Her mouth in an O and her eyes as big as saucers.
She doesn’t deserve any of the shit spewing from my teammates’ mouths or from Coach’s.
Dammit.
Heart lodged in my throat, I lick my lips, determined to clear this all up. “We didn’t?—”
“Drop and give me fifty.” Coach skates up close, his jaw clenched tight. This hard expression is one I’ve seen plenty over the years, but never directed at me. “Go near her again, and you’ll be riding the bench for the rest of the season.”
What the hell?
He skates away, and all I can do is gape. Does he really think I’d break any of his damn rules?
Regardless, I’ll do exactly what he says. As it is, the guys think Aiden and I get special treatment because of our last name. The last thing I need is for my teammates to be up in arms, claiming that I think I don’t have to listen to Coach.
In reality, he goes harder on us than everyone else, clearly overcorrecting for perceived nepotism.
It’s bullshit. Aiden is the highest scorer on the team, and it’s rare for anyone to get a goal by me.
We’re both fucking good at our jobs. That’s why we’re here.
The Langfields are as competitive as they come.
If Gavin, who took over the hockey side of Langfield Corp from our dad, didn’t believe we could perform, he’d have us on the damn bench himself.
“Is there something wrong with your hearing?” Coach hisses. “Should we have the doctor come take a look at you?”
Without hesitation, I drop my stick to the ice, then I follow. And I count. Loudly. “One. Two…”