3. Sara
THREE
SARA
“What the hell was that about?” I whisper shout at Sebastian as he stalks back my way.
He just humiliated Brooks for no good reason.
Arms across his broad chest, he turns back to the ice. He doesn’t look in my direction, though it’s obvious his next words are meant for me. “Thought you were tired last night.”
“I was.” I’m fuming. The rink is cold, but suddenly, I want nothing more than to tug off my jacket. “You texted me at midnight. I’m not some fucking booty call who’s waiting around, ready to perform at all hours of the day.”
“But you were awake enough to hang out with Brooks.”
I scoff, fighting the urge to round on him and cause a scene. “You’re acting like a child. Brooks is my friend. That’s all we are.”
“Remember that next time I call. Don’t waste your time hanging out with boys when you can spend time with a man.”
The laugh that escapes me is bitter and a little too loud. And this time I can’t help but turn to him. “Ha. Because you’re acting like such a man right now. Forcing your nephew to do push-ups on the ice because he played with your toy.”
He glares at me, his brow pulled low and his chest heaving. “Watch your fucking tone. And stay away from him.”
Suddenly, standing between Beckett and Liv when she discovers he bought a dog sounds much more appealing than watching practice. “You don’t get to tell me who I can and cannot hang out with.”I spin on my heel and stomp away, annoyed beyond belief.
I falter when Sebastian’s warning hits me. “But he’ll be the one to pay for it.”
Hours later, I’m still fuming, though I’m also filled with a perverse excitement, knowing I’m actively disobeying Sebastian.
The knock on my door comes at exactly five o’clock. When Brooks says he’ll do something, he does it. I, on the other hand, am still jumping around in my bedroom, tugging a pair of jeans up my legs. My hair is still a mess and my makeup is only half done.
“It’s open,” I holler from my bedroom as I button my jeans.
His footsteps signal his entry, along with a heavy sigh. “How many times have I told you to keep that locked?”
Peeking out from my bedroom, I shoot him a devilish grin. “I knew you were coming over.”
He’s hovering near the door, always the gentleman, ensuring my privacy. He’d never just wander into my bedroom. “You live in a building full of horny hockey players.”
“Who believe you’ve staked a claim on me.” I bat my eyes and shoot him a wide, innocent smile. Yes, every one of them believes we’re more than friends. No, I don’t mind. Langfield Corp has a no-fraternization policy, and this keeps me from having to shut any interested guys down.
Because the last thing I want to do is risk my job. I love what I do. And more importantly, I need this job.
Seb and I have kept our relationship discreet, obviously, and he’s promised that my job is safe either way.
He divorced Brooks’s aunt years ago, but he’s still close to the guys, Brooks especially, and he worries it’ll upset them to know he’s dating.
He’s not giving them enough credit. Brooks doesn’t judge people.
That’s just not who he is. And he loves his uncle.
He’d want him to be happy, regardless of what that looks like.
Although, right now, I don’t give a shit if Seb is happy. In fact, I’m tempted to text him a picture of Brooks and me just to piss him off. He thinks he can tell me who I can and cannot be friends with, but he seems to have forgotten who he’s dating.
Brooks stares me down, hands on his hips, but when I just keep smiling brightly, he drops his head and gives it a shake. “You’re a pain, you know that?”
“That I do.” I turn back so I can finish getting ready and holler over my shoulder. “Does Liv know she has an extra ten people coming to dinner?”
Brooks laughs. “Not likely. Knowing Beckett, he didn’t tell her.”
I toss my blond hair up in a high ponytail and coat my lips in a layer of gloss.
In front of the mirror, I give them a good smack and inspect my reflection.
With a quick glance at my outfit, which consists of jeans and a mocha sweater that hugs my curves—perfect for the fall vibe I’m rocking since it’s pumpkin season and I’m basic like that—I head out to the living room.
Brooks is typing furiously on his phone, his smile wide, when I exit my bedroom.
He’s sporting his usual man bun. It’s pulled back neatly, though the few rogue curls that always try to sneak out are already making their escape.
The man has, hands down, the best head of hair in Boston.
It’s chocolate brown with natural highlights, and every time he turns those damn green eyes on me, I almost melt on the spot.
My best friend is simply gorgeous. And far too humble.
In short, he’s the perfect man.
“Texting your new girlfriend?” I plaster a grin to my face and do my best to keep my tone even.
I’m not jealous, exactly. He asked me to go to dinner with him, not her, so clearly, he’s still making time for our friendship.
Brooks frowns, his dark brows drawing low. “Who?”
“The girl you told me about?”
He blinks, and his eyes clear in understanding. With a subtle nod, he slides his phone into his pocket. “Nah, just the boys. They’re taking bets on how Liv will kill Beckett.” He holds out his hand. “Ready to go?”
That’s another thing I love about my best friend. He’s so affectionate. That’s probably why his teammates think we’re together. Brooks is always touching me. It’s never sexual. He keeps every touch appropriate. Like now. He slips his palm against mine and leads me out the door.
Growing up, I never experienced this kind of affection. My mother was always working, and my father dipped out before I turned two, so I spent the majority of my childhood alone.
Meeting Lennox in college was like hitting the lottery. From that first day, she took me under her wing and forced me out of my shell.
When I met Brooks, I swore I’d found the person who completes me.
There was a moment when we first met where I thought maybe we would be more than friends, but then I found out about the no-fraternization policy, so I put him in the friend zone.
Fortunately for me, Brooks is the best kind of friend, always making time for me.
My heart squeezes in my chest, making it a little hard to breathe. I really hope this new girlfriend doesn’t ruin it for me.
“Sorry about this morning,” Brooks says when we reach the car.
“This morning?”
“With Coach and the guys.” He clears his throat and slides his hand from mine so he can set it on the small of my back as he opens the door. “I talked to them, by the way. They won’t be making comments anymore.”
I let out a soft laugh as I climb up into his truck. The thing is massive. It’s a souped-up F-150 in Bolts blue. It’s the only loud thing associated with Brooks. He so often flies under the radar, but the people who live between here and the arena know when Brooks pulls onto the road.
“You didn’t have to do that. I can handle myself, Brookie.”
He glares at me like he does every time I use that nickname. And I use it a lot. The man is so even and collected. I like getting a rise from him.
He shuts my door, rounds the hood of the truck, and climbs in beside me.
“Coach, on the other hand…” I hedge, keeping my teeth clenched tight to hide my hurt.
Seb was an asshole this morning.
What will Brooks think when he finds out we’re together?
It’s going to be difficult enough admitting I lied to him about who I was dating, but when he realizes that he was punished because his uncle is a jealous asshole, he’ll probably be even more upset.
He won’t get angry. Brooks never gets angry, but he’ll be hurt. And that’s so much worse.
“That’s on me too. I talked to him after practice. Made sure he knows nothing’s going on.” He grasps my hand again and squeezes. “Don’t worry, your job is safe. We all know you’d never risk it for a man.”
The laugh that bubbles out of me is strained. He’s right, I wouldn’t risk my job for a man. I need this job. Without it…
I shake the thoughts from my mind. It’s not worth stressing about.
I’ve got this under control. No one will find out about Seb and me until there is something worth finding out about.
We’re new. And I have no doubt that when that time comes, I can talk to Liv.
She’ll help me ensure I can have it all.
The man, the job, the security I’ve always craved.
It’s not about the money, though money does provide security.
Only people who have truly lived without it can understand just how much that really matters.
At this moment, I don’t care much about my relationship with Seb anyway. If he keeps acting like a two-year-old, the only people he’ll have left to play with will be the boys he coaches.
When Beckett and Liv’s brownstone comes into view, a bolt of excitement courses through me.
Maybe it’s juvenile, but I love watching the two of them together.
Beckett was such a grumpy ass before he convinced a drunken Liv to marry him in Vegas.
Before that fateful night, he’d secretly pined for her for years, while she’d spent her days rolling her eyes at him.
And now he’s a ball of mush in her presence.
It makes me giddy.
Brooks shakes his head at me and chuckles. He always does that—laughs at my ridiculousness.
But I love making him smile, so I don’t intend to curb my insanity any time soon.
“Come on, Sar. Let’s go watch the show.”
The front door of the brownstone beside Beckett’s opens, and out walks Cortney Miller, his wife, Dylan, and their daughter, Willow.
I wave a hello as I hop out of the truck, and Dylan shoots us a surprised look. The redhead is Liv’s best friend. Until recently, Dylan and Liv, along with their two other best friends, lived together.