Chapter 12
The draft combine schedule sits untouched on my kitchen counter while I check my phone for the hundredth time.
Still nothing from Kennedy.
Not that I'm waiting for her to text me.
She's the one who stormed off at the gala.
She's the one who tried to make this more than it is.
She's the one who needs to apologize. Her silly little blackmail that I went along with was because I cockblocked her from a good guy like Harvey Reynolds. I hope she’s fucking joking.
The combine is in three weeks. Thirty NHL teams watching my every move, testing my strength, my speed, my control. I can't afford distractions. Can't think about soft green eyes or the way she feels in my arms or—
My phone buzzes.
I pick it up.
Not Kennedy.
"Your girl's all over the society pages," Wilson says when I answer. "You two looked perfect at the gala. Real power couple material."
The irony would be funny if it didn't hurt. "Yeah."
"Lots of attention is on you with this spotlight. Keep this up and you're looking at first round for sure. Teams love stability, and dating a senator's daughter? That's as stable as it gets."
Another text comes through as I hang up. My father.
Dad: Saw you in the paper with that pretty rich girl. Think she'd loan her boyfriend's old man some cash? Would be a shame if someone told her family about Christmas 2019...
My hand tightens on the phone.
Christmas 2019. The night I found him passed out in our front yard, bloody knuckles and someone else's wallet in his pocket. The night I helped him inside instead of calling the cops. The night I became an accomplice.
The night that could ruin everything – not just my draft chances, but Kennedy's reputation too. Her father's campaign. Her whole world.
"Yo!" Ace's voice makes me jump. He's letting himself in with his key, like always. "You alive in here?"
I shove my phone away. "Unfortunately."
"Haven't seen you since the gala." He drops onto my couch. "Or my sister, for that matter."
"Been busy. Combine prep."
"Uh huh." He studies me too carefully. "Everything okay with you two?"
"Fine." I grab two beers from the fridge. "Just focused on training."
"Yeah." He takes the beer but doesn't drink. "Because it looked like something happened at the gala. Kennedy came back inside alone, looking like she was about to cry. You disappeared completely."
Guilt twists in my gut. "Just a misunderstanding."
"Knox." His voice gets serious. "You're my best friend. She's my sister. If something's wrong—"
"Nothing's wrong." The lie tastes bitter. "Everything's exactly how it should be."
My phone buzzes again. Another threat from my father.
Dad: That campaign would hate a scandal right now.
"Actually." I stand abruptly. "Let's go out. Kappa Pi's having a party, right?"
"You want to go to a frat party? Three weeks before the combine? Right now?"
"I want to get drunk with my best friend and forget about hockey for one night."
Ace hesitates. "I don’t know."
"Come on." I force a grin. "For old times' sake."
Two hours later, I'm six shots deep and remembering why I don't drink much anymore. Everything's too loud, too bright, too much like my father.
"Slow down," Ace says when I reach for another shot. "What's really going on?"
"Nothing." The whiskey burns like guilt. "Everything's great. Perfect. Draft's coming up, scouts love me, got the perfect girlfriend."
"About that." He takes the shot glass away. "Where is she?"
We had our first fight, and I clearly can’t fucking handle it. I hurt her. And she hurt me. Harvey fucking Reynolds? Seriously? And I'm a coward who pushed her away the moment things got real.
"She's fine."
"Is she? Sawyer said—"
I stand too quickly, the room spinning. "I need air."
The back porch is quieter, colder. I check my phone again.
No messages from Kennedy. Three more from my father.
Dad: Really need that cash son
Dad: Would hate to ruin things for your girl
Dad: Christmas 2019
Rage and whiskey war in my blood. I want to hit something. Want to fight. Want to protect Kennedy from my mess of a life.
Because that's the truth I've been avoiding. I didn't push her away because of the draft or the deal or any of our original reasons.
I pushed her away because I care too much. Because watching my father destroy my mother taught me what happens when you love someone more than you love yourself. Because Kennedy deserves better than an enforcer with anger issues and a criminal father.
But god, I miss her.
Miss her laugh during team dinners. Miss how she fits against me during movies. Miss the way she handles my demons like they're nothing special.
My phone buzzes. Finally Kennedy?
No. Wilson.
Wilson: Three weeks to combine. No distractions.
I laugh bitterly. Too late for that. Kennedy Walters became a distraction somewhere between fake kisses and real feelings. Between helping with my father and defending her to snobs. Between pretending to care and actually falling.
"Knox?" Ace appears in the doorway. "You good?"
"No." The whiskey makes me honest. "I think I'm in love with your sister."
Fuck.
The words hang in the frozen air between us. Ace doesn't move, doesn't speak, and the silence stretches until I want to take it back.
"You're drunk," he finally says.
"Doesn't make it less true." I sink onto the porch steps, head in my hands. "I fucked up, man. I fucked up so bad."
He sits beside me, close enough that our shoulders touch. Just like when we were freshmen, scared and trying to prove ourselves.
"Talk."
"She's..." The whiskey makes everything spill out. "She's nothing like I thought. Everyone sees this perfect senator's daughter, right? But she's so much more. She's fierce and funny and she takes no shit, even from me. Especially from me."
"Knox—"
"You saw her with my piece of shit dad." My voice cracks. "Didn't even hesitate. Just... handled it. Made him feel human again. Made me feel..."
"What?"
"Like maybe I won’t turn into him one day." I stare at my hands, seeing his blood in my knuckles. "Like maybe I'm worth something more than a fucking low life."
Ace is quiet for a long moment. "So why are you out here getting drunk instead of telling her this?"
"Because I'll ruin her." The truth burns worse than whiskey.
"My father's already threatening to expose shit that could tank your family's campaign.
I got scouts watching my every move. The combine's in three weeks and I can't... I can't risk everything we've both worked for just because I'm stupid enough to fall for her. "
"You really think Kennedy gives a shit about the campaign?"
"No." I laugh humorlessly. "That's the problem. She'd throw it all away. Her trust fund, her family's reputation, everything – just to be with an idiot like me. I’m not sure I’m even worth it."
"An idiot like you," Ace repeats slowly. "You mean my best friend? The guy who fights anyone who threatens his team? Who learned to waltz for a fancy party? Who's been protecting my sister since day one?"
"I'm not good enough for her, Ace. You and I both fucking know it."
"That's not your decision to make. And fuck, I hate it to admit, but it’s not even my decision to make." He stands, offering me a hand up. "We’re leaving this party."
"Why?"
"Because you're drunk, you're in love with my sister, and if I leave you alone, you'll do something stupid like hook up with Michelle Swift."
I laugh as he pulls me to my feet.
I follow him inside on unsteady legs, the world spinning in more ways than one.
"Ace?"
"Yeah?"
"I really love her."
He sighs. "I know, man. I know."
Something buzzes in my pocket. Another threat from my father. Another reminder of why I can't have this – can't have her.
But for the first time, I let myself imagine what if.
What if I could be worthy of Kennedy Walters?
What if love is stronger than fear?
What if...
"Stop thinking so loud," Ace mutters as we walk. "We'll figure it out tomorrow."
Tomorrow. When I'm sober. When the combine feels real again. When I remember all the reasons I pushed her away.
But right now, I’m drunk and honest and missing her.
I'm tired of pretending not to love her.
And I really want to see her right now.