Chapter 38
THE SECOND-BEST MAN
Declan
My brother is a fucking cockblock.
What I thought was him waiting with me until Ginny arrived at the hotel room I grabbed for the night turned into an impromptu party, with him and Lou finding excuse after excuse not to leave.
And now it’s six a.m., and I’m waking up with Zander’s leg flung across mine, Ginny on his other side in a king-size bed.
I lift my head and find Ginny blinking her eyes open, Zander’s arm flung across her belly.
“Don’t scream,” I whisper to her. “We were attacked by drag queens, but we survived.”
That smile.
I would go to the ends of the universe to see that smile every day.
“Did we win?” she whispers back.
“Not according to my boner.”
Her eyes twinkle. “Is there a lock on the bathroom door?”
“No. It’s one of those fucking sliding barn door atrocities.”
She lifts a shoulder. “Then maybe it would serve them right to wake up to…noises.”
Zander snorts, then farts, then mutters, “Stop it with the feather parsnips, Marcus, you know I’m allegiant.”
Ginny claps a hand over her mouth, but her snort of laughter still carries through the room.
I shove Zander’s leg off of me and climb out of bed.
“Don’t step on me!” Lou shrieks from the floor.
He’s halfway across the room, far, far from my feet, and since he insisted on sleeping with the shades open, the morning sunlight is clearly illuminating him.
“I can see how that was a risk.” Ginny pulls herself to sitting.
She’s in my Minnesota T-shirt and loose shorts, and I’m irritated all over again that my brother and his best friend are here with us.
Morning Ginny in my T-shirt and very little else is my favorite.
“Quit being horny,” Zander moans into his pillow. “Your kind of horny is so gross.”
“You’re gross,” I mutter back, which sends Ginny into another peal of laughter.
“Coffee?” I say to her.
She beams at me in ways that suggest she could take over the sun’s job if she wanted. “Yes, please.”
I dig into my bag for her favorite morning blend and my travel tea kettle and pour-over gear.
“Stop making noise,” Zander moans.
Ginny pets his hair. “Poor Zander. Do you need coffee too?”
“I need coffee,” Lou says. “What are you doing? All you have to do is hit the button on that Keurig.”
“Absolutely not.” I grab the bottled water also in my duffel and pour it into the kettle. “They don’t clean those between guests.”
“Who cares?” Zander grumps.
“People clean their underwear in those things.”
“Oh my goddess, they do not.” Zander’s up now, shoving his fluffy pink eye mask farther up his forehead.
Never was covering his eyes.
The man even sleeps in accessories.
He’s fucking iconic.
“Suit yourself,” I tell him. “But don’t come whining to me when your coffee tastes like ass.”
“He likes the taste of ass,” Lou says.
Ginny’s eyes go comically wide, and then she’s cracking up again. “Stop. I have to pee.”
“Welcome to the encore,” I tell her.
She dances over Lou and into the bathroom, and then grunts as she tries to pull the barn door shut.
“Give her a hand, Lou,” I say.
He leans over and pushes from his side, and he’s grunting and huffing too before they get it shut.
“See?” I say. “Those doors are an abomination.”
“Just like that knockoff Birkin bag you tried to give me,” Ginny calls.
“Declan Eugene Motherfucking Fox, tell me you did not,” Zander says.
“Goddammit,” Lou groans from the floor.
“Oh, shoot, why did I do that when I can’t watch?” Ginny says.
“Do you have no respect for the arts? For creative geniuses? For paying people what they’re worth? Oh my goddess, what is wrong with you?” Zander snorts and huffs. “You people. You people. You’re giving me cholesterol.”
The barn door flies open, and Ginny pokes her head out to stare at Zander, then at me.
I roll my eyes. “Something’s always giving him cholesterol.”
“You know cholesterol comes from diet, right?” Ginny says.
“And bad genes, and I share the same genes as that.” He points dramatically at me.
I ignore him while I check my phone, grunting to myself at a new text message.
Nearby rink can give me private ice time if I want it.
But it would mean leaving Ginny here.
My phone disappears out of my hand, and Zander screeches, “Caught you! Caught you talking to—oh. This is boring. Ice skating. Shudder.”
I stare at him.
“Fuck around taunting me about knockoff Birkin bags and find out,” he says.
Then he shakes his ass at me.
He’s ridiculous and I love him and I also want to toss him out of my hotel room for the way he’s effortlessly shifting around the room, blocking my view of Ginny as she slips from the bathroom back to the bed.
“You’re a dick,” I mutter to him without any heat.
“You’re a bigger dick,” he taunts back.
“Just whip them out and compare so I can go back to sleep on this hard flat surface that’s oh so wonderful for my back,” Lou says.
“Not before coffee, please,” Ginny says.
I lean around Zander to look at her, and it’s impossible not to smile at the sight of her falling into a yawn as she flops back under the covers.
“Coffee’s coming. Pouring it over right now,” I tell her.
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
“If you need ice time, I can be ready ten minutes after coffee.”
“I can skip it. And we can head back whenever you’re ready.”
“And leave us here?” Zander flops back to the bed dramatically, earning a low growl from Ginny as the mattress shakes. “I knew you didn’t love me.”
“We have to hit the road, asshole,” Lou says. “Show in Seattle tomorrow night? The way we get paid? Ring a bell?”
“If your crew didn’t abandon you because of feeling left out when you didn’t invite them to the party,” Ginny says.
“They hate partying with us,” Lou says.
“We’re too boring,” Zander agrees.
“If someone wasn’t related to a professional athlete who was always talking about his skin routine and how important sleep is for it…”
“It’s so depressing, always thinking about taking care of our bodies and our skin.”
“And yet you still wear high heels,” I say.
“Says Mr. My Skates Smell Like Skunk Sex.”
“How do you know what skunk sex smells like?”
“Oh my goddess, Declan, did we suffer through the same camping trip the year I broke my leg demonstrating proper forest strut, or did we not?”
“You didn’t break your leg. You strained your quad.”
Zander heaves another exaggerated sigh. “Ginny, would you explain how life works to this man?”
“My brain doesn’t work that well before coffee,” she replies.
“Excellent deflection. Ten stars,” Lou says. “Zander, get your ass in gear. Crew’s loading up and they will be pissed if we don’t help.”
Zander cocks a hip. “Hello? Who’s still on the floor?”
“Not this.” Lou lifts two middle fingers.
Ginny snort-laughs.
Zander shifts into packing-up mode, which takes more than it should for a guy who arrived in the clothes on his back and carrying nothing at all in with him last night.
“Are you stealing my toothbrush?” I ask him.
“And your shampoo. You buy the expensive stuff.”
I’m shaking my head as I finally join Ginny on the bed, coffee in hand for her.
She kisses me before she takes it, much to Zander’s horror.
“Did you miss your window?” Ginny asks me as her eyes twinkle in my brother’s direction.
“For the rink?”
“Yes.”
“No, but I can do it some other—”
I cut myself off as she lifts a brow, and I have to duck my head to avoid the silent stop being a martyr, that’s my job radiating off of her.
“Goddess, Ginny, don’t look so loud,” Zander says as he digs under the bed, coming up with one shoe.
Ginny smiles as she shakes her head at him. “Apologies, your dramaticness.”
“I’ll forgive you this time.”
“Are you sure you love him?” she asks me.
“He gives good birthday presents,” I reply.
And when he doesn’t have a new audience, he’s the easiest person in the world to talk to about anything.
The first person to pop off with insults against anyone who looks at me wrong.
And my biggest hockey fan.
Even bigger than our parents.
He gave me the sixth degree in the half hour between us arriving at the hotel and Ginny and Lou following last night, demanding to know how my heart was, how my head is, and what he can do to convince Ginny that I love her, not the idea of her, not the things she does for everyone around her, but her.
“It’s true,” Zander says while Lou hands him his other shoe. “I’m a fabulous gift-giver. It’s my only redeeming quality.”
“You have the second-best voice in your family too,” Ginny says to him.
He blinks at her, then back at me, while I fall even harder for this woman.
She shrinks. “Did I—”
“Oh no, hon, you didn’t say anything wrong,” he says softly. “You said something exactly right.”
She looks at me, then back at Zander, then back to me.
“He’s always been second best at everything,” Zander says. “But you see what he’s first at.”
“Second best?” she asks me. “At what?”
“Hockey, personality, grades, sponsorships,” Lou checks off.
“What the actual fuck are all of you talking about?” Ginny demands. “He played professional hockey, he has the best personality, he’s incredibly smart, and who needs sponsorships when you have the biggest social media following of any sports figure in the world?”
“Male athlete,” Lou says. “That lady rugby player is huge on socials.”
“And Cooper Rock’s following is bigger,” Zander says. “You know, the baseball player who married Waverly Sweet? World’s biggest pop star?”
She flips him off.
Lou chokes on a laugh.
Zander smiles at me.
And I wrap my arms around Ginny and press a kiss to her shoulder.
“Was this a test?” Ginny demands.
“No,” I say.
“Yes,” Zander and Lou reply together.
“Not to me,” I add.
“You’re not second best,” she says to me. “You’re you, and you’re perfect.”
“Oh, gross,” Zander says.
“I’ve known him too long to agree,” Lou adds.
“I can’t take this anymore. We’re leaving.”
Zander shoves a bag of things that he didn’t arrive with at Lou, then crosses to the bed to give Ginny cheek kisses. “Don’t put up with any shit from this guy, and also be nice to him or I will have Fuchsia Fallenout write a song that you won’t think is funny.”
She smiles at him. “Heard. Kick ass at your show tomorrow night. Your second-best show, since you’ll never top having Declan onstage with you.”
My brother hugs me too, and then finally—finally—I’m alone with Ginny.
Ginny and her coffee and the way her hair smells in the morning and her soft body snuggling into mine.
“This is delicious,” she murmurs. “Thank you.”
I kiss her hair.
“When do you lose rink time?” she asks.
“It’s technically closed for another two hours, so I have some time.”
“Will anyone else be there?”
“Just the coach who’ll let me in.”
“I’ve never ice skated.”
“What?”
“Caro fell and broke her collarbone in skating lessons when she was seven, so my mom refused to let any of us back on the ice.”
“But—family skates with the team—and—”
“I was afraid I’d look stupid since everyone else seemed to know how to skate, even the little kids, so I always made excuses not to go.”
That does it.
Mind made up.
“You’re learning today,” I tell her. “No arguments.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“You need drill time though, don’t you?”
“I can do both.”
“I don’t like falling.”
I do.
I love falling.
Falling for Ginny.