Chapter 4 Nora
NORA
I must be crazy or delusional. That’s the only reason I can think of that dancing with Rush, my ex’s hot brother, seems like a good idea.
Well, I’m sure the alcohol is certainly adding to my impulsive decisions. I’ve lost track of how many Highline Hitters I’ve had this evening.
What a rush, indeed…
Not to mention there’s the bitterness of Brett’s fresh breakup and the vindictive, vengeful part of me that wants to stick it to him.
Like dancing with Rush is the equivalent of a sweet revenge.
Yeah, that’s got to be the alcohol.
I really should just tell him no, e polite and respectful, but for some reason, I can’t. Instead, I place my hand in Rush’s, and say, “One dance, then you can take me home.”
Rush gives me a smirk, and the sight makes my insides heat. It’s way sexier than it should be, but that might be the alcohol talking.
Or not.
Russell Sterling is pretty hot even without the drunk goggles, if I’m being honest.
“Russ—” Freddie starts, but Russell doesn’t seem to hear him.
Or maybe he doesn’t care, I don’t know. I catch Freddie’s knowing gaze, his warm green eyes fixating on me.
On where Russell holds my hand. The sight makes my cheeks heat and I feel warm all over.
Freddie is just…being cautious, probably.
A voice of reason.
But right now, the drinks and the feeling of Rush’s warm hand in mine negate all reason. I like it more than I should, because I know I shouldn’t.
The music pumps over the speakers as Tate McRae croons about having a sports car and doing dirty things in it.
Russell sets his hands on my hips, and I nearly jump from the touch.
I don’t know what I’m so nervous about. I mean yes—this is my ex’s brother—but we’re just dancing.
It’s not like I’m going to bed with the man.
My stomach twists as the sour taste of Brett’s dalliance tries to repeat in my brain.
I shove it away.
Maybe there’s a small part of me that feels vindicated in dancing with Rush. He’s not Brett, but he’s Brett-adjacent. So, in a weird way, it kind of soothes my Sterling desire without acknowledging the truth.
I can pretend he’s the Sterling I want. Pretend that Brett didn’t cheat on me and leave me high and dry like a bad perm.
The words resonate with me for the first time.
He left me.
They feel sharp, yet faded and hazy. Like I understand their meaning, but I can’t quite grasp the feeling they’re supposed to bring.
In many ways, it feels anticlimactic, almost unassuming. There was no fight. No bitter insults or words lobbed at one another. There was no dramatic slamming of the door or screaming curses at the top of my lungs.
There was…nothing.
Just silence. He didn’t chase me or even call. He just…left.
Was it for another woman? I don’t know. It’s highly suspect, given I found him with his cock buried inside some other woman, but I don’t know if he was seeing her or if it was a one-night stand or…
I want to know, because I want answers, but…would they help settle this anxiety or make it worse? As badly as I want to know, I kind of also don’t want to know.
So instead of focusing on Brett and what happened, I focus on Russell’s warm hands on my waist. I let him move me back and forth and I close my eyes. Awkwardly, I don’t know what to do with my hands, so I hold my drink in one and work on draining it while the other swings by my side.
Almost as if he can read my mind, Rush grabs my hand and settles it on his shoulder.
I open my eyes, my gaze settling on him. On his bright green eyes that shine underneath the blue neon light. The shadows that fall over his face make him look like something straight out of a romance novel. Tempting as all hell.
“I’m sorry about my brother,” he says, his voice full of bitterness. “He’s a fucking idiot.”
His words are as sharp as his tongue and I can’t deny that hearing him like this—angry, bitter, and bitching about his brother—is way more validating than it should be.
“I—”
“Believe me when I say I’m going to fucking beat his ass,” Rush says, but I can hear the faint drippings of alcohol on his tongue. And I can smell the beer on his breath, mixed with his heady cedar cologne.
God, he smells good.
And looks good…
“Rush—”
My gaze roves over his face, over his body. He’s decked out in a faded Led Zeppelin T-shirt and dark jeans, looking every bit like he’s ready for his damn close-up in a magazine. His blond hair hangs in his eyes and I have the strangest feeling that I could get lost in them if I let myself.
“I’m serious, Nora,” he says, his voice dark and inviting. “He was raised better than that. And just because he’s family doesn’t mean he gets a pass.”
Russell looks down at me with a heady softness that makes my insides hot. “And I can tell you if you were mine, I would never be able to even look at anyone else.”
His words settle on me, making my stupid heart flutter. I have to remind myself he’s not talking about me. He’s talking in general.
There’s no way Russell Sterling wants me. For God’s sakes, up until forty-eight hours ago, I was his brother’s girlfriend. Not to mention he’s never once given me the impression he feels differently than he should.
But still, I can’t deny the way my heart skips a beat and my damn pussy flutters at those words on his tongue.
If you were mine.
I have to force myself to look away from his verdant gaze, and when I do, I see Freddie across the way. Watching us. Intently.
His dark green gaze catches mine like a shadow and I don’t miss the way he adjusts his cock through his jeans, the sight sending another fresh jolt of electricity right to my groin.
My cheeks heat and I tell myself it’s just a coincidence that I looked up at that moment.
It has nothing to do with me and certainly nothing to do with Rush.
And it certainly doesn’t mean what my mind wants it to mean for some odd reason.
The desire to hold his gaze like a challenge festers in me.
Just what is in these freaking Highline Hitters?
Russell’s hands slide over my hips softly as he rocks us back and forth, pulling my attention from his brother. “You can relax, you know.” He leans closer to whisper in my ear. “I don’t bite,” he says. “Promise.”
I know this. I know Rush and Flash are good guys who aren’t the type to make waves or make women feel uncomfortable. Even if they’ve been single for a while. Part of me is a little jealous of that notion. At least, right now.
Because while I was off creating little vision boards and manifesting my perfect life with an up-and-coming athlete, getting cheated on—they were off doing whatever and whoever they pleased without the repercussions.
No commitments, no attachments. I’m not obtuse, and while I don’t believe all the gossip I hear in this town, it’s impossible not to know about the Sterling brothers, seeing as they’re a family of hockey players and some of the town’s most eligible bachelors.
Though if that label or spotlight bothers them, they don’t seem to show it.
Instead, they lean into it. Being absolutely perfect and opening doors and taking out pretty women and then doing whatever they feel like. Ah, the life of a single man. If only being a single woman was that freeing, but I digress.
I’ve never played the field. Never dated more than one man at once. I’ve always gone from relationship to relationship, and my relationships have all been lengthy spans of time, with Brett being my longest one yet.
But part of me wonders what it would be like. To dance with whoever I wanted. Take home whoever I wanted. Not have to worry about being cheated or left, or…
“I know,” I say, because it’s true. Out of the Sterling brothers, Rush is definitely the most charismatic and warm and is known to be the life of the party everywhere he goes.
His hockey nickname isn’t just a moniker for his speed and agility on the ice.
Rush is the moment, the vibe. He can make even a hangout in a garage in the middle of a heat wave with no air conditioning fun.
I would know, because that’s exactly what we did for his dad’s birthday this summer when the power went out. What could have been a disaster ended up being some of the most fun I’ve had in a long time as Rush pulled out a bunch of card and board games and we all ate ice cream before it melted.
And of course, Freddie’s a gentle giant with an understated charm, and Tommy is the introverted, intense younger brother who plays community hockey and keeps to himself most of the time unless his friends are around.
Rush has always been a vibrant personality. A feel-good personality.
Russell Sterling is the kind of man you can only describe as bright and full of sunshine. He has a way of making you feel his energy, making you feed off of it.
I’ve only hung out with him and his brothers a few times at family gatherings, but I know enough of the man to know I trust him and wouldn’t mind hanging out with him under different circumstances.
Different circumstances, like what?
Why can’t I hang out with Rush? Why can’t I dance with him now and just enjoy myself and not worry about Brett? Brother or not, Rush is not the man who hurt me. I have to remind myself of that.
I think about Abby’s words. I need to have fun.
Though I am worried about her and her mother, I know she wouldn’t have told me to stay if she was truly worried. Whatever the case, I know I need to focus or I’m going to look like some high idiot staring at Rush again.
“I just—” I sigh as I take a long drink of my Highline Hitter, until I’ve drained the glass. I set the empty on the edge of the stage where the other empties are collected, allowing me to rest both my hands around Rush’s neck.
I feel a strange sort of warmth building inside of me, radiating like a fire as it travels through my body. Rush’s hands on my hips are hot as he squeezes me, still leading me with the beat. I press my body closer to his as I close my eyes, and for the briefest moment, I am weightless.