Chapter 4
FOUR
AARON
Practice ends the way it always does, with my lungs on fire and a violent craving for the cold plunge bath.
Except for the small detail where I nearly introduced Kennedy’s face to the boards and wanted to make him bleed…
Yeah.
That.
The locker room is quiet for once, not filled with the usual post-practice trash talk. No music, no one arguing over whose body odor smells the worst. Nothing but a shit ton of sidelong glances of my teammates pretending not to watch us.
Everyone is staying out of our way. As if any sudden movements might detonate me like a bomb.
I drop onto the bench and start stripping off my gear.
Shake off my gloves.
Helmet.
No one says a word.
The snake stands two lockers down, towel slung low on his hips, grinning at a defenseman like he wasn’t caught fucking my girlfriend over the weekend and we almost got into a fight.
Huh. Must be nice not to give a shit.
Wonder what that’s like.
But now, he’s only a few feet away, bare chested, bare feet, devil-may-care attitude, crowding me.
My body goes rigid.
His mouth moves.
“Whatever you’re about to say, you can save it,” I start, cutting him off before he can begin apologizing, focused on peeling off the kinesiology tape on my bicep. But he doesn’t back away, doesn’t leave me the fuck alone, doesn’t go crawling back into his hole.
Declan Kennedy cannot take a fucking hint.
“I’m not here to apologize—I know it wouldn’t matter.”
My eyes finally snap to his face. Then what the hell do you want?
“Good.” I roll my eyes. “It would have been awkward watching you pretend you suddenly grew a conscience.”
His jaw tightens. “You don’t get to continue being an assho—”
“I get to continue doing whatever the fuck I want,” I cut in again, enjoying the expression on his face. His flared nostrils. “You lost the right to police my personality when you started sleeping with Bailey.”
He glances around to make sure none of our teammates overheard me.
Declan straightens his spine. “This isn’t about us.”
“Oh?”
“No,” he says. “This is about my sister.”
“Your sister?” I repeat. “What about her?”
His eyes narrow slightly, measuring me. “You know exactly what.”
I barely blink. “Trust me. I don’t.”
Little does he know, I’ve had my mouth and tongue on her pretty little pussy… can’t help wondering what he’d say if I told him.
What I wouldn’t give to see the look on his face.
But…
Now is not the time. Or the place.
Hell, I hadn’t known she was a Kennedy when I considered fucking her, only that I was bitter and lonely and hadn’t wanted to be home alone.
It was a lucky coincidence, and now she’s my dirty little secret.
“Where’s this all coming from?”
He shifts on the balls of his feet, growing uncomfortable under my scrutiny. “She was watching you up at the office.”
It kills him to admit it, that much is clear.
My brows rise. “Was she now?”
This is great news.
So much better than I expected.
He scowls down at me. “Don’t.”
“You’re giving me orders?”
Now he’s the one rolling his eyes, the man standing before me in a towel. “Don’t turn this into something it isn’t.”
I tilt my head. “You’re the one who brought your sister into it.”
“That was a warning.”
“You’re actually warning me?”
“Stay away from her. She’s… Juliette isn’t like the women we’re used to.”
Juliette.
It sounds delicate and has my brain repeating it on a loop, testing it out. Soft. Pretty. Romantic.
It suits her.
“Stay away from her?” I give him a thin smile.
He studies my face like he’s trying to decode the thoughts running through my mind, but he won’t. Couldn’t possibly. I had my mouth on his sister—I know how sweet she really is, from head to toe.
“She sure is pretty.” I pull a clean shirt from my locker, unhurried, letting the silence stretch. “She has this innocent look about her. Like she believes most people mean well, when they’re actually full of bullshit.” I pause. “Juliette.”
“Keep my sister’s name out of your mouth. You don’t know a goddamn thing about her.”
I don’t bother looking at him. “Sure I do.”
He shakes his head.
I chuckle at the Adam’s apple bopping in his throat. “You know what I’ve discovered I’m attracted to these days?” I sigh loudly. “Bows. And girls who wear bows in their hair. The satin ones.”
He takes a step toward me. “What did you say to me?”
I turn slowly. “Bows.”
His hands curl into fists. “How would you know she wears those?”
I raise my brows. Stare. Hold his glare long enough that his imagination does all the work for me.
Then I shrug. “Guess I just like bows.”
I lower my gaze in time to see his fists clench at his sides. Dude wants to tear me apart and turn me into the issue here? Let him try.
He took something from me.
I’m going to take something back.
Snorting, I stand, tugging on a pair of sweatpants, presenting him with my ass while I do it. “You should walk away now. Wouldn’t want anyone thinking you’re obsessed with me.”
He stays rooted to the floor.
I can feel him seething—heat and fury and unfinished business pressed into the air behind my shoulders.
He’s calculating.
We both are.
I glance back at him. “You can go.”
For a second, I think he might actually lunge at me, but let’s not forget, I am the victim here. He fucked me over, not the other way around.
“This isn’t over,” he says.
I chuckle at him. “Whatever you say, boss.”
His nostrils flare before he turns and walks back toward his locker, leaving me to finish dressing.
Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I head for the exit. Halfway down the hall, my phone buzzes.
Sutton.
My younger sister’s name lights up the screen, and the tension in my shoulders relaxes.
“Yeah?”
“You’re always so grouchy,” she tells me by way of greeting. “Why do you sound so angry all the time?”
“I don’t sound angry all the time, and I’m not grouchy,” I lie, pushing through the exit doors that lead to the parking lot, cold air blasting through the heat under my skin. “It was a long practice.”
“Isn’t it always?” She laughs.
I grunt.
There’s a pause. Then softer, “Have you seen Bailey lately?”
Oh, I’ve seen Bailey alright, bouncing up and down on my teammate’s cock.
I stalk toward my truck. “No.”
Another pause. “Are you still dating her?”
“Negative, ghost rider.”
Sutton hums. “Hmm. Dare I ask why?”
“Double negative.”
More humming as she thinks of something witty to say that might break the tension and change my mood. “Well. The good news is, I never liked her. She was not my vibe.”
Not my vibe.
I crack a smile at that. “Good to know.”
“I’m serious, Aaron. She was wayyy too full of herself. Not that you’re not full of yourself. But like—I didn’t trust her,” she confesses. “Sorry, I’m not trying to be rude.”
“No offense taken.” I open the door to my truck, toss my duffle into the passenger side, and climb in, resting my forehead briefly against the steering wheel.
Wait for my phone to connect to the vehicle before continuing the conversation.
“She is, in fact, rude. And you’re annoyingly observant for someone who can’t parallel park. ”
“Blah, blah, blah.”
I smile despite myself, but it’s brief.
There’s a beat of silence, the kind that only exists between two people born eighteen months apart, who’ve shared a bathroom their entire lives, childhood bunk beds, and a car.
I can hear Sutton thinking. “You don’t sound okay, Aaron. What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” I fib, starting my truck.
“You want me to come over this weekend?” she volunteers cheerfully. “I can bring groceries and judge all your life choices in person. Make my famous lasagna?”
“Tempting offer, but your lasagna is not famous.”
“You jerk!”
“I’m stating a fact.” I shift into drive. “Smoke alarms shouldn’t be part of an evening’s entertainment.”
“Hey!” She laughs again. “Stop. You always do that.”
“Do what?”
“Deflect. Pretend you’re fine when you’re obviously not. I can hear it in your voice.”
“And how does my voice sound?”
“Constipated. Like you have to take a shit.”
I laugh. “It’s a God given talent, what can I say?”
“It’s not a gift, it’s a problem.”
“To quote a famous chef, ‘blah blah blah’.”
Sutton refuses to allow the subject to change. “Does this mood have anything to do with Bailey?”
I shrug. Might as well give a bit. “Maybe.”
She scoffs. “Wow. Sooo specific.”
“I trusted the wrong people.”
Her voice softens. “Perhaps you did—but it’s not a crime. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”
“Trust me, I’m not.”
“You lie so bad.”
I ease onto the highway. “What do you want from me, a handwritten confession that I’m okay?”
“Sure. Bullet points for extra credit.”
There’s a beat, then Sutton finally changes the subject. “Sooo, Mom called earlier.”
Oh, fuck. “Is that the real reason you called?”
“Correct.” She pauses. “They want to do a family trip.”
I groan. “Define ‘trip’.”
She laughs. “Somewhere warm. Tropical. Dad already started a spreadsheet for a PowerPoint presentation to convince you.”
“That tracks.” The man loves files, paper copies, and data.
“During your off season, so you can dial down the anxiety about it.”
“I mean…”
“No one will notice you on a beach somewhere. You’re so basic and blendy.” I can hear her rolling her eyes through the phone, the sarcastic brat. “You’ll survive, all the while pretending you’re dead inside.”
“I am dead inside.”
My sister’s snort sounds exactly like mine. “Anyway. I’ll keep you posted if we have a meeting about it.”
A meeting? Fuck my life.
“Maybe if you meet someone, she can come along.”
Not likely.
“Someone normal this time, who doesn’t treat you like piece of meat. Or her ticket to brand deals.”
I frown. “That’s specific.”
My sister huffs as if she’s crossing her arms indignantly. “I don’t want to be sitting next to some woman in the family suite who’s more interested in camera time than in you.”
“Harsh.”
“Accurate.”
The road blurs a little as my mind drifts, traitor that it is…
Soft voice.
Kind eyes.
A romantic name that’s messing with my head.
Juliette Kennedy.
Sutton continues yapping. “I want you with a girl who wants a family. Someone who’d rather be in the stands with a hot chocolate and an old Ice Wolves hoodie—not one wearing studded leather pants and a cropped T-shirt.”
Bailey wore an outfit like that once. It never occurred to me that it made my family uncomfortable; this is the first time Sutton has mentioned it.
“You still there?” Sutton asks.
“Yeah.”
She hums. “Were you thinking about someone?”
“No.” Pfft. “Why would you ask me that?”
“Because I know how you are. You’re like—a bear. But you’re also mushy on the inside. So, whoever she is, I hope she isn’t someone who will use you.”
Use me?
Ha.
If only my sister knew I ate out the enemy’s sister.
Juliette Kennedy is not my type.
Too cheerful.
Too delicate.
Too damn sparkly.
I bet she says shit like “oh my stars!” and wears cardigans to the grocery store and has no idea what kind of man she let into her apartment. Thanks baristas by name. Tips delivery people.
The kind of woman I normally date are bold. Loud. Wear a lot of make-up, make a lot of demands, and demand attention.
She appears to be none of those things.
And her brother admitted she was watching me in the office, which means she’s interested.
Which means she’s curious.
Which means she’s full of hope.
Something ugly settles in my chest: a plan.
Clarity.
I’ll be exactly what she thinks she wants.
I’ll text back. Bring her flowers. Give her gifts. Whisper in her ear, bring her coffee at work, make her feel wanted. Go down on her until she’s clutching the bed sheets.
I’ll make her believe there can be an us.
And when she falls head over heels in love with me—
I’ll show Declan what it’s like to watch someone you love get fucked over by the wrong person.
“Hello?” Sutton says. “Earth to Aaron.”
I don’t recognize the sound of my own voice when I respond with a “Yeah.”
She pouts. “You’re no fun anymore.”
I laugh sardonically. “What did I do now?”
“Nothing. Yet. But why do I get the feeling…” My sister hesitates, considering her words. “Promise me you’re not going to do something stupid.”
I stare at the dark stretch of highway ahead.
Too late.
My plan is already being built, brick by vengeful brick.
Juliette Kennedy isn’t my type.
She’s better.