Chapter 42
LINCOLN
“The doc looks banging tonight,” Monroe says as I join him and the guys in Fletch’s kitchen.
“Shut the fuck up, man,” Kodie barks on my behalf when I give our rookie a death stare.
“Seriously, though,” Killer starts.
“Don’t,” I warn, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.
“What? I’m just saying, you two looked cozy as hell, walking in here together.”
“You wouldn’t know cozy if it bit you on the ass,” I counter. “There is nothing going on,” I assure them, although, even as the words pass my lips, I question their truth.
Sure, nothing has actually happened. But there have been moments…
Fucking hell.
I drag my hand down my face, wondering when the fuck I started caring about innocent moments more than I did hooking up with a different woman every night.
Those moments, though…the memories…
Fuck. They’re all-consuming.
“Yeah, but it would be cool if there were,” Killer adds. “We all know you guys have history.” I look up so fast I don’t know how I don’t strain my neck.
“What?”
“You grew up together. You, Rett, Parker, and Casey. Your connection was built long before she started working with the team.”
My mouth opens and closes. I want to argue and insist that we don’t have a connection, but then they really would know that we were lying.
In the end, I settle on a pathetic, “yeah,” and pray the conversation moves on to safer ground.
Thankfully, it does, and before long, Reese pulls something from the oven that smells incredible. After double-checking everything, she calls Casey, Sutton, and Parker in to grab some food first.
The second Parker walks in with a wide smile on her face and Sutton holding her hand, gazing up at her like she just hung the moon, I swear I stop breathing.
Having her here, in a place that feels like a second home to me, with my boys...fuck.
I lift my hand to my chest and rub the spot above my heart. Is the air thick in here, or is it just me?
“Everything okay, Storm?” Parker asks when she notices me watching her.
“O-of course. Just starving, so if you could hurry up about grabbing food, that would be awesome.”
“Typical man. Always thinking with his stomach,” she says, making Sutton laugh.
“Daddy is the same,” Sutton confirms.
We stand back patiently while they fill plates and disappear with Reese behind them before we all descend on the food everyone brought.
“God, I miss homemade food,” Killer complains around a mouthful of the moussaka Reese made.
“Dude, can’t you even wait until you sit down?” Brit complains.
“It’s just so good.”
“You need a new chef,” Fletch points out.
“You think I don’t fucking know that?” Killer snaps, filling his plate with as much food as he can fit on it.
Thankfully, the promise of full stomachs means the guys don’t stop long enough to get into an argument and instead head out to find a seat the second their plates are full.
“Is this seat taken?” I ask when I emerge into the dining room to find the chair beside Parker suspiciously empty.
“Sadly not,” she mutters.
I chuckle as I sit down, aware that I’ve got both Casey and Reese’s eyes on me.
“Are you having a good time?” I ask quietly so no one else can hear.
“That was never in doubt,” Parker says with a smile.
“See, told you,” I say with a smug grin.
“Linc, look at this picture I drew,” Sutton pipes up before sliding a drawing toward me.
“Oh wow, that’s incredible, Lil Rivers.”
Sutton blushes at the praise as I take the piece of paper from her and stare down at the illustration of myself on the ice in full uniform.
“I’ve done one for everyone,” she announces proudly.
“Sutton,” I sigh, clutching my chest. “I thought I was special.”
She laughs at my dramatics before finding the drawing she’s done for Monroe and racing toward him with it.
“How the fuck did you make such a cute kid?” I ask Kodie once she’s out of earshot.
He shrugs one shoulder. “Fucked if I know. You’re aware that that needs to be pride of place somewhere before her next visit, right?” he asks, nodding toward the drawing beside me.
“Goes without saying.”
The next couple of hours pass as a blur of laughter and happiness. While my own family might now be a little fractured, all the people around me remind me that it still exists. And that family isn’t about blood. It’s about so much more than that.
“I’m gonna head out,” Parker says from behind me, where I’m playing Xbox with Killer.
“What?” I ask, unsure if I heard her correctly.
“I’m leaving. Casey is going to—”
“No,” I bark, dropping the controller and surging to my feet.
“The fuck, man?”
“Marilyn, take over,” I demand before storming around the couch to where Parker is standing.
“We came together,” I point out.
“Right? And we can leave separately. It’s not a big deal.”
Silence passes between us as we stare at each other.
She’s right. It shouldn’t be a big deal, but it fucking is.
“Guys, I’ll see you in the morning. We’re heading out.”
Those who already know we’re currently living together turn our way with smug looks on their faces. Those who are still here who don’t mostly look shocked.
I’m aware that I probably shouldn’t have done that. That I promised I’d keep Parker’s living arrangements under wraps so it doesn’t undermine her role. But fuck…she isn’t going home with anyone else, even if it is Casey.
“You’re unbelievable,” she mutters once we’re out of the house.
“What?”
“Just because I was ready to leave, it doesn’t mean you have to.”
“It doesn’t matter to me. We’ve got an early skate in the morning; it’s better that I head to bed.”
“Sure,” she mutters as she drops into the passenger seat of my car. “And thanks for basically announcing that we live together. Real smooth.”
“The guys don’t care,” I counter.
“It’s not the guys I’m worried about,” she mutters under her breath.
“Oh?” My hand falls from where it was about to press the start button, and I turn to her instead.
“It’s nothing,” she says, staring out the window as if she hasn’t got a care in the world.
“You’re lying.”
She tenses, her shoulders bunching up around her ears.
“What’s wrong? Is someone giving you grief about living with me?”
“No, because the idea was that no one knew about it.”
“It was never going to stay a secret all that long. Not when you’re hanging out with the guys at my place.”
“They’re your closest friends,” she argues, and I know she’s right.
“Who are you worried about, Parker?” I ask, my voice firmer than before.
“It’s nothing. Can we just go home, please?”
I continue to stare at her profile, irritation bubbling up within me that she’s hiding something.
“Fine,” I concede, finally starting the engine. “But just know, all you need to do is give me a name, and I can sort it.”
“That’s exactly why I won’t. My battles aren’t yours to face, Linc. They’re mine.”
I fucking hate that she’s right.
With my fingers tightly wrapped around the wheel, I pull away from Fletch and Reese’s house, silently fuming. Whoever is giving her shit, I’ll find out.
“Did you want to watch TV, or…” I ask as we walk into my apartment and she makes a beeline for her room.
“I’m having an early night,” she announces over her shoulder.
“Oh, okay.” Disappointment sits heavily in my gut. I’m not sure at what point I started enjoying having a roommate, or at what point I forgot how to hang out alone, but both seem to have happened.
“I’ll see you at the arena tomorrow,” she says before disappearing and pushing the door behind her.
That inch of gap between the door and the frame is the ultimate tease.
With my teeth clenched, I march into the kitchen, annoyed with myself. I grab a bottle of water and fall onto the couch with a groan.
I’m not going to lie, that Pilates class this morning was a bitch. I’m already aching. Tomorrow is gonna hurt.
Pulling my cell from my pocket, I ignore the notifications waiting for me and find a contact I’ve been meaning to touch base with for a while.
It rings three times before the call connects, and the second it does, I’m reminded of what a shitty brother I am.
“I’m sorry, who is this?” Nova asks.
“You’re funny.”
“I really am, compared to you,” she deadpans.
I groan again, dragging my hand down my face.
I love my little sister dearly. But I don’t have the patience for teenage girl sass.
“How’s everything?” I ask.
“Yeah, you know.”
“No, I don’t. If I did, I wouldn’t be asking.”
“Jeez. Who pissed in your coffee this morning?”
“Have you seen Mom much?” I ask, ignoring her previous comment.
“Thankfully, no.”
“Nova,” I warn.
“What? Whenever I see her, all she does is tell me everything I’m doing wrong. It’s exhausting.”
I want to argue with her, say something positive about Mom. But she’s right. Since we lost Dad, their relationship has changed, and not for the better.
“How’s school?” I ask with a wince. The answer to that question is usually about as positive as the previous one.
“Yeah, it’s okay.”
Her upbeat response throws me for a loop.
“Uh…really?” I ask, hating my skeptical tone.
“Yeah. It’s…better.”
“That’s amazing. I’m so happy you’re finding your footing there.”
“Yeah, it could be worse. So, what about you? What’s new in your high-profile celebrity life?”
I laugh her comment off.
“Not much. My agent has a couple of possible new endorsement opportunities in the pipeline.”
“And you’re top of the division?” she adds.
“Yeah, there is that too,” I say, unable to keep the proud smile from spreading across my lips. “Have you been watching?”
“Of course.”
We fall into easy conversation about hockey, but it still drifts off to other places. And as always, Nova quickly reminds me that the teenage sass she gave me at the beginning of the call is just a cover. If I’m honest, she’s probably already more mature than I am.
Before I know it, an hour has passed and I’m still lying on the couch, gossiping with my little sister.
“I should let you go,” I say, realizing the time. “It’s a school night.”
“It’s barely ten,” she points out. “I’ve still got homework to do.”
“Why didn’t you say?” I ask, feeling guilty that I’ve stopped her from working.
“Because it’s nice to hear your voice.”
Christ.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch enough.”
“It’s okay. I’m just as much to blame. I have your number, too. Life just gets busy, doesn’t it?”
I glance toward my guest bedroom, wondering what Parker is doing. Did she go and have a long soak in the bath, or did she curl up in bed? If I’d stood at her door, would I have heard that familiar buzz of her vibrator and the soft moans she lets out as she comes?
“Yeah,” I muse, dragging my thoughts from the gutter. “It does. You need to come to a game.”
“I do. It’s been forever.”
“Let me know what game you can make and how many tickets you need.”
“Aw, you’re the best.”
“I do try. Wanna lift the cup this year.”
“It’s going to happen. You’re all killing it. Especially your new rookie. He’s hot.”
“Nova,” I warn. “Stay the fuck away from my teammates.”
The second the words pass my lips, I understand the irony.
Here I am warning my little sister away from my teammates, while I’ve got my best friend’s little sister living rent-free in both my guest room and my dirty fantasies.