Chapter 32
thirty-two
. . .
Nick
For two weeks, everything is perfect. We have a road trip to New York and then onto DC, where I somehow manage not to sneak into Bex’s hotel room, and every night we’re at home, she’s in my bed. I like falling asleep with her in my arms, and I like waking up to her even more.
She’s grumpy as fuck in the mornings, takes twenty-minute showers, and leaves half-full drinking glasses on every surface. Her idea of a healthy breakfast is an untoasted strawberry Pop-Tart and about a gallon of lukewarm coffee.
Whenever I see her at the rink, it takes everything in me not to claim her in front of the team.
I’ve held off, though. While we’ve talked briefly about filing the relationship with HR, she’s not ready, and I won’t push her.
She stands to lose a lot more than I do, but I can’t help thinking that if team management knew about us, I’d be the one on the chopping block.
She’s doing good work with us. Meaningful work. I’m on the dark side of my career.
But if I let myself think about the end of my career, I start to wallow, and I’m not in the mood to dwell on what could be. Not when I have the most beautiful woman in the world in my arms and in my bed.
One night, she goes to book club with “the girls,” as she calls it, and I trail through my empty apartment, cataloging all the ways it’s different without her.
MacGregor and Logan invite me to dinner—Hailey is at book club, too—and Sinclair and Jenkins join in.
We gorge on chicken wings and light beer while MacGregor whips all our asses at video games.
It’s nice hanging out with the guys. Being accepted as part of the team.
These men battle it out with me everyday on the ice, but sometimes teammate relationships can be shallow and superficial.
I’ve never felt like that with the Grizzlies.
They’ve welcomed me with open arms, and always made clear that my place is here, with them.
Just like Bex has made clear that she’s here to stay. That this isn’t a fling, that she actually cares. Tonight, we’re meeting her brother for dinner, and she’s going to tell him. We’re going to tell him.
And I’m shitting bricks.
“It’ll be okay,” she says, squeezing my hand. “We’ve got this.”
“Right,” I croak.
Her red smile tips up. “Nothing he says to you, or about you, will change my mind. Not about this.”
I’m not used to second-guessing myself like this. Overall, I’m comfortable with who I am, confident in my skin. I like who I am.
But that doesn’t mean I’m blind to my faults. I’m impulsive, quick to anger, and holy fuck, can I hold a grudge.
Including against this asshole. We’re meeting her brother for dinner at some tiny dive bar in Fenway-Kenmore, a place he requested. It’s not the usual hockey player hangout visiting players tend to frequent, much more low-key and laid back. Perfect for what we need.
I really don’t want to die today.
Bex spots him across the bar, and we weave through the crowded, dimly lit space until we reach her brother at a high-top in the back.
Whitney frowns when he sees me trailing after her, but he gives me an upward nod, acknowledging my presence.
“Hey, B,” he says, rising from his barstool. He gives her a hug, then offers me his hand for a shake. For once, he doesn’t try to crush my fingers. “What’s this chump doing here?”
“I hope you don’t mind that I brought my boyfriend with me,” she says as I help her into her seat.
He knocks over his drinking glass, the sticky table flooding with ice and water. “The fuck did you just say?” he demands, his face turning red.
“We’re together,” she says calmly as I take my place beside her. “Nick and I are dating.”
“But—but—” He pats the table with his napkin, but it does a poor job of mopping up the spill. I pull mine free from the silverware roll, helping to clean up.
“We’re not asking for your permission, simply informing you of our intent.” I take her hand, my thumb brushing over her knuckles soothing me as much as it does her. “I want to date your sister.”
Whitney reaches across the table, punching me in the shoulder. “It’s about time. You’ve only been making eyes at her for the last year and a half.”
My face heats. “So you’re okay with this?”
“I don’t have any other option, do I?” There’s a sullen set to his jaw, but his eyes are bright with amusement. “How long has this been going on?”
“It’s new.” Bex picks up her menu, perusing it. “How do you feel about cheese fries?”
But I can’t take my eyes off him. “That’s it? You’re okay with this?”
He rolls his eyes. “I don’t get a say in Bex’s love life. Besides, I broke bro code first by getting together with her best friend.”
“And mine,” I add helpfully.
“You’re taking this very well,” she says. “I’m impressed. You’ve really evolved.”
“Hey, I’m not ruling out punching him in the face. He has a broken nose coming to him.” Whitney huffs, tugging at his strawberry-blond hair. “Fucking hell. Did it have to be him? There’s nobody else in the league you want to fuck instead?”
Her stare turns flinty, and my cock pulses at the intensity of her glare. Fuck, I love when she’s angry. Fiery. I’m even happier when that fire isn’t aimed at me.
“You will not punch my boyfriend in the face.”
He opens his mouth.
“No. You agreed to a cessation of hostilities when you got with Elsy. He’s kept his end of the bargain. Our relationship has absolutely nothing to do with you.”
Whitney tries to speak again, but his words die in his throat.
“On the ice, you can hit as hard as you like, chirp whatever you want to chirp, but you will not fight him,” she continues sternly. “He will never bring up our relationship. He won’t rub your face in it.”
“Absolutely. There are rules in this game. I won’t cross them.” He’s never brought up the fact that he’s sticking it in my best friend and pseudo-sister; I can do the same for him.
Besides, I’d never disrespect Bex that way. Her laying down the law makes my chest warm with affection for her. She knows my boundaries, and she won’t tolerate disrespect.
“You won’t fight me?” he demands.
“I’m putting this rivalry to rest. You can swing at me, but I won’t fight back.”
“Just like that? You want my approval that badly?”
“I don’t need your approval,” I counter. “I’d like it, sure. But my relationship with your sister has nothing to do with you. We’re not dating at you.”
His face screws up in a grimace. “Gross.”
“I like her.” My voice is quiet, but firm. “I really like her, and I want to be with her. What we share has nothing to do with you. It’s between us, and only us.”
He turns his glare on me. “Does Elsy know?”
I nod. “We asked her not to share until we could see you in person.”
“I don’t like you asking my wife to keep a secret from me,” he says flatly. His attention turns to his sister, who’s completely blasé about this. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Sure, let me pick up the phone and tell my stupidly overprotective big brother that I’m dating his nemesis.
” Bex rolls her eyes, a fond smile on her face.
“We knew we were seeing you tonight. It’s not a phone call conversation.
I wanted you to see firsthand how happy I am—we are. That this is a good thing.”
His lips turn down in a pout. “You could have told me.”
“We’re telling you now.” She sets down her menu, gazing serenely at him. “I love you, and I value your opinions in general. But you don’t get to have an opinion on my love life.”
“You’re happy?” he asks. He hooks a thumb in my direction. “This guy? This is the one you want?”
She doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
Whitney nods, sitting back in his seat. “Okay, then.”
“Okay?” I echo.
“Okay. I know I’m not allowed an opinion—”
Bex opens her mouth, but he shakes his head, continuing before she can get a word in edgewise.
“—but I don’t need one. As long as he makes you happy, I’m happy, too. That’s all I want for you. Even if it means being stuck with this asshole.”
“You were already stuck with me,” I point out. “Me and Elsy are a package deal. Just like you and Bex are.”
He grunts.
“Thanks for not punching me in the face,” I joke.
“Hey, still reserving that right for when you inevitably fuck up.” His glare turns flinty, much like his sister’s. “So don’t fuck things up, asshole.”
“I don’t intend to.” That, I’m sure of.
Bex leans toward me, and mindful of our audience, I don’t take her mouth the way I want to. We meet in the middle, and I kiss her softly. Gently.
“I promise,” I whisper to her and her alone. “I won’t hurt you.”
“I know.” She cups my cheek, her thumb tracing over the rough stubble. “Same for me. Always.”
Across the table, Whitney grimaces. “I guess family holidays just got that much bigger.”
Pulling back, she settles in her seat and crosses her arms over her chest. “Yeah, about that…”
“Haven’t told Mom and Dad yet?” He arches an eyebrow. “What are you waiting for?”
“I don’t want to deal with her commentary. She’s going to have an opinion and I’m not going to like it.”
My hand falls to her thigh, and I squeeze reassuringly. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“No, but I still have to hear her voice in the back of my head, spewing poison.”
She sounds so defeated. Like there’s no way her mother would ever support her. It makes me miss my mom, gone too soon. I wonder what she’d think of Bex. Would she approve?
I think she’d love her.
Her mother’s done a number on her, Elsy once said. We’ve talked a little about their fractious relationship, but every time I ask questions, she changes the subject.
“Or you can just block her,” her brother suggests. “I’m so much happier since going no contact.”
That reminds me, I should probably block Fred, too. He hasn’t shown up at the rink again, but there’s no way of knowing when he’ll accost me next. It’s only a matter of time.
Fuck, I want a drink. All the more reason not to have one. I reach for my water glass, wetting my parched lips.
Bex’s weary sigh tugs at my heartstrings. “Yeah, maybe.”
She hasn’t opened up to me about her mom, but I haven’t told her about my dad, either. I need to lay it out for her. Before he approaches her. Or worse, before he does something to detonate us.
Whitney picks up his menu again. “You wanted cheese fries? I haven’t seen you eat those in years.”
Bex glances at me, her brown eyes bright with warmth. “I love cheese fries.”
“Me too,” I murmur, squeezing her leg. “Me too.”