by Lane, Stacy
Not to my surprise, tonight’s hockey game was on in the main living room, and outside on the patio.
It was in the first period, not very far in either, and Brooks has already been called on two different penalties.
They were playing against Boston.
Noah was in goal.
Everyone socialized, ate the exquisite appetizers Chelsea laid out, while intermittently watching the game. I, however, couldn’t stop staring at the TV screen like it was a horror flick. It played out the exact same, chills running down my arms, anticipating the impending disaster by peeking through the slits of my fingers.
Brooks is a hot head on a regular game day, but tonight, playing against Noah, he was crazed. I had a feeling, a strong, let’s-make-a-wager kind of feeling that he heard about Noah and Mason’s little secret that came out. On top of it all, he sat right there beside me when Noah replied to my text.
Reasons were piling up for him to attack Noah in the way he’s used to on the ice. Not saying that justified his pent-up aggression toward the Boston goalie, but the black ice effect that came over his eyes when I looked at him as he sat beside me Wednesday morning indicated otherwise.
My friends did not know about me hooking up with him. Taytum would be super proud, ready to celebrate my one-night stand popped cherry. Chelsea would likely seek him harm thinking he took advantage. But, alas, I was the idiot who thought the best way to part ways with a delectable specimen like Brooks was without clothing.
When will we ever learn? Common sense has no reign over sexual desires.
Since leaving Brooks’s penthouse, I haven’t been able to stop fantasizing about our night together. The places his mouth traveled. The slopes his fingers dipped into. It began up against a wall, for God’s sake. I don’t know many people who have unhinged, passion obsessed sex with a partner who, let’s be honest, is way hotter than I am, but kudos to them. I’m not sure I’ll ever feel relatively normal again with the kind of thoughts running through my head.
So many fan-ta-ta-sies, Ludacris is my new anthem.
It’s not just my sex drive that’s been hacked. I’ve picked up my cell to text him a million times before coming to my senses. Hell, I even bought a pumpkin pie from the store just to feel closer to him. And they were on BOGO. I have two pies to wallow in when all I wanted to do was share them with him.
I played it casually on the outside that morning, but on the inside, I was a desperate girl begging him to go old movie film romantic on me and confess he never wanted me to leave his side again. When he asked me to spend the day with him I declined. I thought he was asking out of courtesy. Shouldn’t a guy like him easily dismiss his one-night stand? I secretly sat there wishing he’d refute my attempts at being a chill person and argue with me to stay.
Revisiting those memories for the umpteenth time just goes to show I’m not capable of flings and no strings. It was my choice to go to his place Tuesday night, and in the end, I’m glad I did. Didn’t make me any less doomed. If I thought I could easily fall for Brooks before we had the sex, this made it so much worse.
Hence, buying BOGO pumpkin pies.
The camera focused in on Noah, skating out of the blue during the stop of play initiated by, you guessed it, Brooks.
By this point, hearing another side to Mason-Kason’s life wasn’t shocking me as much as it did in the beginning. It hurt some hearing he was cheating on me since the woman who confessed this little tidbit gave the time frame during our relationship, but I think most of my feelings for him have frozen to the point I could throw them in hell with him and they wouldn’t even melt.
I let the possibility of Noah and Mason playing this same trick on me, where I could have been with Noah and not even known it wasn’t Mason, eat at me for all of an hour. But then I realized I sounded like the rest of the world jumping to conclusions and reading things out of context. The woman never said the twins swapped identities. Yes, she worded it terribly, but that was the problem with social media. People held a total disregard for learning and understanding grammar. The scandal of these two guys playing tricks on an unaware woman is what the world wanted to actually happen. It’s not what did happen, though.
I was fine. I really just wanted to wash my hands of it all. And I possibly could if I wasn’t ignoring my mother’s calls, but other than that, just fine.
Brooks, on the other hand…
“He keeps this up and he’ll get benched for the rest of the game.” Cam crosses his arms, sitting with me outside on the patio furniture and watching his brother push and shove with the opponents who are not very happy about Brooks coming too close to their goaltender after the whistle blew.
Brooks’s grin found the camera as he skated away. Ever the shit-starter.
When Cam walked through the door earlier I was stunned, to say the least. For starters, it’s Saturday night and he’s always at the bar on Saturdays, but also simply because I didn’t expect to see him so soon after ending it with Brooks.
As strange as it sounds, it’s like I’ve broken up with an entire family. Not that I’ve done this before, but it just feels that way. And being around Cam is practically an extension to Brooks.
Of course, there was nothing to break up. I have to keep reminding myself of that, but what the hell else was I suppose to label it?
“Seriously? They’d do that to him?” I ask, dismayed.
“He’s not leaving his personal issues off the ice. Of course, they will.”
“They are not his issues, they’re mine,” I mumble.
“And we both know how my brother feels about you, Jo.” Cam turns his face down toward me with a small smile.
I bite down on my lip and bounce my fingers along my thigh.
Brooks is a gigantic flirt, obnoxious most of the time, and we were friends in an abnormal way, but none of that is conducive to saying he has feelings for me.
The night air is cool, enough for a light sweater. Chelsea’s patio is lit up with rope lighting producing a soft golden glow. The heated pool shines with underwater lights. Cam and I are the only ones sitting outside on the L-shape orange couch. He takes up one end while I’m curled into the corner, legs bent up to my chest.
The sliding glass door at our backs open with a swoosh. Hands, along with a whiff of a heady cologne, clamps down on the back of the couch between Cam and I.
I glance up at the newcomer, meeting another set of unique gray eyes. Tilting my lips up, smile so forced I undoubtedly look constipated.
Being around Cam is tolerable as I’m trying to move on from the unexpected depth of feelings I’ve accumulated for Brooks. He carries similar features, but relatively he’s Brooks’s brother because it’s been previously known. Alex, on the other hand, could pass for Brooks’s twin. It’s a little unnerving to look at him, is all.
The irony of all these brothers born as multiples is just hitting me. Twins, triplets, or otherwise, is not uncommon, but I’ve never met so many at once until now.
“You finally made it,” Cam fusses, glancing at Alex with a pointed glare, and then turning back to the game. “I was going to kick your ass if you made me come here alone.”
“Shouldn’t you be more thrilled being the only man in a room full of women,” Alex returns, light and borderline monotone.
“I’m not the only guy,” Cam retorts. “The only single guy, however, with a room full of unavailable women. You made me give up a shift for this.”
“For Brooks.” Alex turns his sophisticated brow on me. The weight of his gaze and his mention of being here for Brooks unsettles me. “Jo, how are you?”
I can see the former hockey player in him. He’s got the build, a couple scars around his lip and eyebrow, but the way he walks, the manner he carries his shoulders is all business.
“Swell,” I answer, managing to unstick my cramped jaw.
“Good to hear. Hopefully, the picture situation with Noah has respectfully faded.”
“It has.” Never thought I’d be so hap
py to be Jo, who? again.
“Brooks was concerned about the latest piece of news.” Alex dives right in, no subtleness required with this guy. “He asked us to check in on you.”
So Brooks cares enough to be concerned how I am during more of my exes secrets, but not enough to check in on me himself. His concern leaves me both warm and fuzzy, and hot and stabby.
Sharpening my tongue against the ridges of my teeth, I reply, “To be frank, I don’t give a shit about Mason anymore. Adding cheating bastard to his list of ‘The Worst Ex’ wasn’t all that surprising.”
Alex’s mouth twitches. “Glad to hear.”
“Told ya, Jo-Jo,” Cam pipes in, throwing an arm along the back cushions. “You got Brooksy by the balls.”
I reply with a haughty laugh. “I most certainly do not.”
“I’d have to second that and say you do.” Alex pushes off the couch, rounding the side and taking a seat in front of me at the other end. “Now, more than ever, since you ended things with him.”
Cam juts his head back. “Say what now.”
Alex crosses an ankle over his knee, extending his arm along the couch to match Cam. My eyes graze from Alex, turning like a slow-hand timer from twelve o’clock to a quarter past at Cam.
“There was nothing to really end,” I shrug with an explanation.
“What happened?” Cam asks, eyes darting between Alex and I. “And why do you know about this but I don’t?”
“Brooks told me.” Alex starts to bounce his leg.
Brooks told him…we slept together?
Great. Just great.
“Brooks and I were never just friends.” I forge ahead, avoiding Alex’s stare. I don’t know about others, but when I hear of two people sleeping together, unwanted images of one of them enters my brain. I’m not a pervert, I don’t seek out those images, they just appear at the mention of anything naked. Alex could be picturing me naked right now and I can’t handle making eye contact at the possibility.
“Pretty sure everyone picked up on that.” Cam’s tone comes out drier than a top shelf, sixteen year old whiskey sitting inside his bar.
“Then you know you can’t be attracted to your friends. It never works out.” I expound my views with a heap of finality.
“I agree. Jo’s looking out for herself. She did the right thing,” Alex says.
“No, she did not,” Cam argues, pitching his voice higher with every word. “Brooks is an idiot. He’ll never realize what he’s screwing up. And you, Jo-Jo, you are brilliant. He needs someone smarter than him. Don’t give up so soon.”
I am brilliant, but even the most knowledgeable have clueless moments. Why in the H-E-double hockey sticks would I fall for someone my opposite in every way?
“Aw, Cam, I didn’t know you cared so much,” I tease with the tilt of my head and wispy flutters of my lashes.
“Well, damn you, I do.” His brows set low, a frown marring his typical grinning face.
“How is the fool playing, anyhow? I warned him not to pull anything risky.” Alex glances to the left at the TV mounted on the wall. The clock ticking away as the last minute of the period comes to an end.
“Two penalties so far.” I wrap my arms around my bent legs, hugging them to me. Cam’s insignificant glare leaves an impression along the side of my face. “First for slashing. I’m sure you can guess who he slashed. The second was goalie interference.”
“Listen to you,” Alex nods with approval. “Dad would be proud.”
I shrug, bashful. “Turns out I kinda like this sport.”
The sliding glass doors open. Three heads turn as Chelsea sways over.
Slurring slightly as she plops down on the side of the couch between Alex and me, and without depth perception of how far down the cushion is to her butt, she falls with a slouch, then asks, “Whatcha ya doing out here?”
Eyeing her as one would a riddle, I reach a helping hand out when she starts tipping sideways. “Are you drunk, Chelse?”
“I’ve had two glasses of wine. But I drank a little bit before everyone showed up.” Listing to my side, she raises a finger to her lips. “Shh. Don’t tell my husband.” Giggling, she straightens out, shifting on the seat and then crosses one designer pump foot over the other leg. She flicks her gaze to Alex, doing a double take as if she just realized he was there. “Alex Labelle. Helllllloooo.”
“Hello, Chelsea.” Alex’s tone drops, his tongue rolling her name with a dark hiss. He watches her closely, gray eyes swirling like a dark cloud. Similar to Brooks’s when he’s about to…
“Okay. Let’s go inside.” I hop up, her arm grasped in my hand and tugging.
“I just sat down. My feet hurt,” she whines, throwing her body weight into the couch as I pull.
“Then take off the heels. You’re the host, you can’t be seen relaxing. It’s uncouth.”
She groans. I only said what sounded like something she would say about hosting a party. And it works.
I press into her back, moving her along once she’s up. She smiles down at Alex as she passes, wiggling her fingers. His smile turns up on one side, smirking with an intense demeanor.
I shove Chelsea harder.
Right as I’ve guided her intoxicated ass to the backside of the couch, away from all Labelle men and their bewitching eyes, Chelsea covers her mouth with a hand and blurts too loudly despite intending to speak undercover. “Has he always been so hot?”
Yep. Spellbound. It’s the eyes, locking a person in like a hypnotic trance. They should be licensed if they are going to openly walk around hypnotizing people.
“Yes. And you have always been married.” I remind her.
“A girl can look,” she states over her shoulder, swinging the door wide.
I step into the kitchen right behind her. “I would advise looking elsewhere for eye-candy. The Labelles are the cavity-causers your dentist warns you about.”
“Well slap in a filling and give me a jar full of whatever they are handing out.” Chelsea slides onto a barstool at the island, slapping a hand down on the counter for emphasis.
I toss my head back in roaring laughter, unable to disagree with her sentiments.
Pulling a sparkling water from the fridge, I hand it over to her. “Here. Hydrate.”
“Thanks,” she pouts. “I don’t typically get drunk at my own parties.”
“Hey, you don’t have to explain yourself to me. It’s your party and you can get drunk if you want to.”
She takes a sip, looking at me over the green glass. Licking her lips, she sets it down and then says, “Vic and I got into a big fight before he left. He doesn’t want me staying in Vancouver as long as I’ve planned.”
It’s my turn to lick my lips, hesitate and think about how to properly word what I want to say next. Chelsea gives up so much for Vic, the least he can do is be understanding with her wanting to visit her family.
Taytum’s been my friend for a long time, and she’s dated some pretty iffy guys that I vocalized my opinions on from the start. Now there’s Nick who I adore and have never had anything bad to say about, but if I were to change my mind about him I don’t know that I could speak as freely. The rules change some when the relationship has more ground than when it’s new and unfertilized.
Chances are, I can say something that will ruin a friendship. Vic is Chelsea’s husband, and there’s a line a person shouldn’t cross when it’s involving opinions in someone else’s marriage.
“I think you’re a little homesick, after all, you’ve never lived anywhere else besides Vancouver. Go home, and if you start feeling homesick from here, then come back sooner than planned.”
She nods, mindlessly playing with the water cap.
Her head keeps bobbing, lost in thought or struggling with what to say next.
“Chelse, is there more to the fight you want to talk about? Get it off your chest, you know. I’ll listen.”
“No. Just regular marriage hiccups.”
Vic’s controlling ass
says nothing regular about a marriage.
“Alright.”
“I’m just some housewife like everyone thinks.”
“No one has ever said that, Chelse.”
“They don’t have to. I work in a lot of charities, but I don’t have my own money so people think I’m lacking ambition or something.”
I pause. “Does Vic say those things to you?”
She laughs, empty and void of any real humor. “That’s the way Vic wants it. I have dreams, too. Plans to make something of myself before I turn thirty, for Christ’s sake.”
Slurring, flirty drunk Chelsea has turned into morbid and angry.
“Do it then,” I say.
With a vigorous nod, she replies, “Yeah. I think I will. I’m going to take my time apart from him to work out a plan. I followed him here for his dreams, so he can start supporting mine.”
“Damn straight,” I smile.
Her mouth spreads with a large grin. Standing up fast, too fast, she sits back down. “Whoa. I should probably eat something to absorb all the alcohol in my stomach.”
“Good idea. Stay. I’ll make you a plate.”
“You’re a good friend, Jo.”
“So are you, Chelse.”
“I’m sorry I unloaded on you.”
“Hey, what are girlfriends for if you can’t vent to them about boyfriends and girlfriends and husbands and all.”
“Got any venting you want to do about Brooks? He is a part of the ‘and all’ right.”
“After the Labelle sandwich I was in out there, I really don’t want to talk about Brooks again.”
She chuckles. Then her lips pursed. “Oh God, I said Alex was hot right in front of him.”
“You did,” I wince.
“I basically hit on my husband’s future boss.” Her eyes bulge.
“Hey, at least he’s not your boss.”
“Good point.”
Chelsea got back to hosting her party the way she meant to. A lot less intoxicated.
The Fury were losing the game, terribly, by the time they entered the third period. Brooks mellowed out, but he wasn’t playing like I know he can.