10
Nash
My pulse thumped as I slid into the Uber after Kennedy, breathing in her soft, feminine scent, which was both soothing and arousing.
Closing the door behind us, I leaned back in my seat, angling my body toward hers.
She’d removed my jersey, and as much as I loved seeing her in it—especially my last name on her back—the sight of her in a skirt and sweater that hugged her curves in all the right places had my heart beating a little faster.
She looked at me like she wasn’t sure what to do with the attention I was giving her, and that made it all the more impossible to look away.
“You look amazing,” I said, voice low and rougher than normal. “Really sexy in a businesswoman I-can-rule-the-world kind of way.”
She blushed, her eyes darting toward mine before she looked down at the hands in her lap.
She did look beautiful, but she also looked tired.
Working all those hours was starting to catch up with her.
She was probably carrying more weight than she let anyone know.
I reached for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.
Kennedy’s surprised eyes met mine, but she didn’t pull away.
Instead, there was a soft smile on her lips.
“My parents love you, you know,” I said. “I bet my mom will call me tomorrow and tell me all about how happy she is that you’re in the city. She’ll say she missed you, and how glad she is that you’ll keep an eye on me.”
Kennedy let out a quiet laugh, and I smiled, already hearing the conversation with my mom in my head. “But mostly, she’ll tell me how wonderful you are.”
I knew my mom was curious about what was going on between me and Kennedy.
There’d been a sparkle in her eyes when she’d kissed me goodbye, like she sensed something had shifted—or maybe she’d always known.
My mom had the uncanny ability to read me better than anyone, and she’d probably known for years that I’d always been into Kennedy, even when I didn’t quite realize it myself.
Back then, I’d told myself it was just because she was around all the time, part of our family’s orbit. It made sense we were inseparable. But it didn’t explain why I noticed everything about her. Her laugh. Her stubborn streak. The way she listened like what you said mattered.
My mom used to make comments about what a wonderful girl Kennedy was, like I didn’t already know. I knew. So did half the guys at school, but most of them were too scared to make a move with her brother, me, and Isaac around. Mostly me.
Kennedy’s face split into the most beautiful smile, and something in the air shifted. The space between us suddenly felt charged.
“They’re wonderful people, Nash,” she said, her tone breathier than normal. “They’ve always been so good to me.”
“They should be. You’ve always been good to me.”
And she had been.
The one who helped me with homework when I was barely keeping my grades above water. The one who pushed me to try harder when I wanted to quit. The one who showed up to hockey games when no one else did.
She’d always been my friend—my person. The one who understood me, the one who saw past the noise, the wins, the screwups and just .
. . got me. I studied her face, watching her dark lashes fluttering, the soft pink coloring her cheeks, her lips parting slightly, and I swore I could feel the pull between us.
It wasn’t new. I’d just spent years pretending it was. Pretending she was off-limits. Pretending friendship was enough.
But tonight—after seeing her with my parents, after watching how naturally she fit into my life—I couldn’t lie to myself anymore.
Maybe it was the way my mom’s eyes lit up when Kennedy laughed, or the way she still called her honey like no time had passed.
Maybe it was how effortless everything felt with her.
Maybe it was realizing all the meaningless nights I’d spent with other women had never felt like this, just sitting next to her.
Whatever it was, I was suddenly done fighting it. Done pretending the line between us needed to exist.
Now, more than ever, I wanted to taste those lips, to feel her breath against my face.
I wasn’t sure if she leaned closer or if I was the one who did. Her breath hitched. She licked her lips.
Then the car pulled to a stop.
I leaned back, swallowing a sigh, and opened the door. The cool night air was grounding as I stepped out, but it didn’t clear the tension humming in my veins. I reached back in and offered Kennedy my hand. Her smaller one slid into mine, and just like in the car, it felt right.
O’Reilly’s was already packed, buzzing with postgame energy. I moved through the crowd with Kennedy close behind me, not stopping for photos, just nodding and saying thanks to the congratulations being shouted in my direction.
I didn’t miss the phones held up under the guise of selfies, angled just enough to catch me in the frame. I was used to it. It never used to bother me. But with Kennedy next to me, it did.
The guys were at the usual spot in the back with a crowd of women hovering nearby. They were the kind who showed up for the team, not the game.
I felt Kennedy’s hand tighten on mine just for a second, but it eased when she spotted familiar faces at the table. Mitch and Bryce were both there, each nursing a beer.
The second Mitch spotted Kennedy, he stood up with that big, dumb grin of his.
“Girlfriend,” he said, arms already open, totally ignoring me. “How was dinner with the fam?”
“It was good, Mitch,” Kennedy said, letting him pull her into a hug.
He looked at me over her shoulder, eyes lighting up the second he caught my glare.
“I’m just making sure you’re treating my girl right,” the fucker teased.
I fixed him with a look as I slid my arm around Kennedy’s shoulders, tugging her into me.
“Always,” I said, meeting Mitch’s gaze head-on, “but she’s not yours. She is and has always been my girl.”
Mitch’s brows shot up. Then he laughed, looking between the two of us like he couldn’t tell if I was joking.
I wasn’t.
At least not completely.
Kennedy leaned into my side just enough for me to feel the warmth of her body against mine, and I didn’t want to let go.
I liked the idea of calling her my girl, maybe a bit too much.
I cleared my throat, muttered something about grabbing beers, and let go, adjusting myself discreetly in my dress pants before heading toward the bar.
I placed my order and was waiting for the bartender to fill the glasses when I felt someone staring at me. Turning my head, I found Amy leaning against the bar, drink in hand, surrounded by a group of friends. The perfected are-you-coming-over? look was on her face.
I swallowed down a groan and gave her a casual chin tip. She did look good. Tight dress, heavy makeup, perfectly styled hair, but it did absolutely nothing for me other than make me regret my past choices. And remind me that was not happening again.
When I returned, Mitch was mid-story about some idiot using Tiger Balm instead of lip balm.
“He smeared that stuff across his mouth like it was goddamn ChapStick,” Mitch said, grinning.
Kennedy laughed. Bryce shook his head while Larsson just grinned, either remembering it or trying to figure out if Mitch was full of shit. Which he was, mostly.
I handed out the beers, getting a soft thank-you and a smile from Kennedy that made something settle low in my chest. I wanted to keep that serene look on her face forever.
But of course, it was short-lived.
The group of women who’d been circling the bar all night finally made their move. Next thing I knew, they were surrounding us. The phones came out, and the requests for selfies and autographs started.
“Can I get a picture?” one of them asked Bryce, who agreed, leaning in with a practiced smile.
“You’re my favorite Empire,” she sighed, drawing an amused snort from Mitch.
“Will you sign this, please?” another one asked, batting big puppy-dog eyes at Larsson while thrusting a napkin in his direction.
I didn’t even bother rolling my eyes. This was nothing new. A few months ago, I would’ve been glad at the attention, but tonight it felt different.
Kennedy stood suddenly, moving to try to not get caught in the background of any of the pictures. I got up too, slid an arm around her, and pulled her into my side, blocking her from view.
“You don’t have to do that,” she murmured, glancing up at me.
“I don’t mind.” Which was true. I really did not mind having my arm—or both arms—around her.
“I have a feeling you’re next.”
I let out a low grunt because, yeah, she was probably right.
“Are you okay, or do you want to go?” she asked, and something about the way she said it—like she was trying to protect me—had me smiling.
I tightened my hold on her and met her eyes. “Yeah, why don’t we finish our beers and get out of here. Is that okay?”
“More than okay,” she said, her tone breathy and relieved.
“Oh my God, Nash!” a voice shrieked from somewhere behind me, and suddenly a girl with long black hair and more cleavage than common sense shoved her way through the crowd.
She made a beeline for me, completely ignoring Kennedy.
She just plowed forward, bumping into Kennedy hard enough that she lost her footing.
I caught her instantly, arm cinching around her waist, steadying her before she could fall, but the damage was already done.
The girl didn’t even blink. “Hey. How’s it going?” she asked, all smiles, like she hadn’t just bulldozed someone out of the way to get to me.
Kennedy wriggled out of my grip, her cheeks flushed. “I’ll just be over there,” she said, taking a step back. And then another one. A look of embarrassment was on her face.
A couple of the guys watched the train wreck in front of me with amused smirks, like this was just part of the deal.
And then there weren’t just girls surrounding us but guys too, wanting to talk hockey and get pictures of them hanging with the team for their social media accounts or whatever they used to brag to their friends.
I bit back a groan.
I’d come out to have a beer. That was it. And now I was wishing I’d taken Kennedy’s hand and left ten minutes ago.