Greg’s nostrils flare with every breath, the look in his eyes wild. “There are rules, asshole! There are lines you don’t cross. I know you don’t like me and the feeling is mutual, but we’re on the same fucking team and you do this?”
Vaughn’s had enough. He shoves Greg off. “I know she’s your sister. And that’s why I let you have not one, but two free throws. Now get your shit together and listen, because you won’t get another. This isn’t about you. I tried to stay away from her… but I couldn’t.”
“Is that supposed to be a fucking excuse? You tried? Fuck you,” Greg spits. He’s pushing for violence, just like he was that day at the start of the season.
My heart stops as guilt rips through me.
I can’t let it happen.
Both of them want me far away from the conflict on the brink of exploding, but I push forward. Heart slamming, I rush between them, putting a hand on both their chests.
“Greg, stop. I’m not some victim here, so don’t try to paint me like one. I wanted this. For crying out loud, look at my shirt. It’s got his name on it! We’re together. This really isn’t about you.” Please don’t let him see the panties.
There’s pity in Greg’s eyes as he looks to me. “I know you think this is real. And I’m so fucking sorry that you got caught in the middle, but believe me, the only reason this asshole is with you is to fuck with me. He doesn’t care about you, Nat. He’s using you.”
Vaughn’s hand closes over mine at his chest. “He’s wrong.”
I know he is. But it doesn’t make what Greg’s saying any easier to hear. Throat tight, I look my brother in the eyes and find my voice. “I know this might be hard for you to understand, but it is possible for a guy to want to be with me because of me.”
“Yeah, Nat, just not this guy.” Greg grabs my upper arm, trying to pull me out from between the two of them. “You need to go to your room and put some fucking pants on. I’ll handle Vassar.” I know what he wants, to take me out of the equation, but that’s not how it’s going to work. I’m a part of this, as much as either of them. And I’m not going anywhere.
I dig my heels in.
His grip tightens and I wince.
The air in the room changes and then it’s Vaughn with his hands on Greg, and his face a mere inch away. It’s his voice that’s laced with deadly intent. “Get your fucking hand off of her before I put my fist through your throat.”
Greg’s eyes flash to the too-tight hold on my arm. Instantly he releases it, shaking his head as he apologizes. Not because Vaughn made him, but because that’s not the guy Greg is. He would never willfully hurt me or any other female. But I’m still glad he let me go. I’m not his ten-year-old little sister in need of saving, I’m a woman and I have something to say.
I didn’t want to have to do this, but Greg needs a reality check. “Vaughn didn’t even know who I was the first time I came on to him.” I feel Vaughn’s chest twitch under my touch, but don’t look at him. Technically I wasn’t so much the pursuer as the pursuee, but for tonight’s purposes that’s a clarification we don’t need to make. “He had no idea I was your sister.”
“So he’d like you to believe,” Greg bites back. “I talk about you. Everyone knows I have a sister.”
Another grunt from Vaughn. “Believe it or not, Baxter, but I’m not hanging on your every word.”
I shoot Vaughn a stern look and grumble, “Not helping.” Then turning back to my brother, I take a deep breath. “Yeah, but when I met him almost a year ago, he wasn’t on this team. We weren’t even in this country, and I told him my name was Allie.”
“You what?” Greg blinks, his brows plowing together as his chin pulls back. “Wait, are you telling me this has been going on for a year?” He rakes a hand through the short waves of his hair. “You’ve been screwing this guy behind my back when I know you know who he is. I know you remember what a total fucker he was—since he was fifteen fucking years old. Number 26 from East.”
Between the disapproval in his look and the betrayal in his voice, I feel lower than low. But this situation needs to be defused as quickly as possible. He needs to know the truth.
“To me he was someone else, okay? He always has been. And when I saw him after that game, yes, I knew who he was, but I didn’t want him to know who I was… because I wanted him to like me. But he didn’t even know who I was until about a month into the season. And then… well, we became friends.”
I’m pretty sure my brother doesn’t need me to elaborate on the details. He already looks shell-shocked, so I leave it at that. “Greg, I appreciate you looking out for me. But I think I’ve made it clear that it’s not necessary. I was on a date and I’d like to finish it.”
Again, I feel a quake in Vaughn’s chest, but I’m pretty sure this one is a laugh he’s trying not to let out.
Greg gapes at me. “You want me to leave? Leave him… here with you.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “Yes. I know sometimes it feels like the whole world revolves around you, but occasionally, it doesn’t. This is about me and the guy I’ve been seeing. A guy who didn’t take advantage of me and had the self-control not to break your nose after you sucker-punched him, jerk. So I’d appreciate it if you would walk out of here without giving me a hard time. And I’m asking you, as my brother, to have enough respect for me, my privacy, and my choices not to share this with the team, and particularly your coach.”
Greg looks from me to Vaughn and back again, scrubbing his hand over the back of his head. One heavy breath later, he raises his hands, palms out. “Fine, whatever you want, Nat.” Raking a loathsome look over Vaughn, he shakes his head. “When this guy fucks up, I’m just a phone call away.”
Taking my brother’s arm, I walk him to the door. “Good night, Greg.”
Vaughn
I’ve never been more in awe of someone than I was just now watching my girl face off against her brother. But the second that door is closed, whatever steel was in her spine crumbles and she starts to shake.
Only a step behind, I gather her up in my arms and carry her into the bedroom. This night is done. It didn’t go the way we’d planned. And the implications of what happened are—fuck, something I can worry about when I’m done worrying about her.
Climbing into bed, I lean against the wall and hold her on my lap. Her arms are around my neck and I’m rubbing her back with slow strokes, waiting for the racing of her heart to slow.
Finally, she whispers, “I’ve never seen anyone take a punch like that. You barely even blinked.”
Tucking my chin, I look down into her eyes and let out a low chuckle. “Your brother punches like a little girl.”
It’s not true. The guy wields that fist like Thor’s hammer, but I’m fucking hard-headed.
She snickers and relaxes against me. We sit like that for a few minutes, quiet while all the shit from the last hour works its way around my head.
“I’ll talk to him tomorrow,” she says, unraveling her arms from my neck and smoothing her hands over the remains of my open shirt. “He’s not going to take this to your coach.”
I don’t want to tell her that I think she’s wrong. That I’m pretty sure he didn’t even make it as far as his car before tattling to the guy with the power to end my career. That I have no idea what this means for my future, and I don’t even care because I’m holding her right now, and that’s the only fucking thing that matters.
So instead, I tip her head back for a quiet kiss. “Whatever happens, it’ll be fine.”
Her palm cups my jaw and a sort of unholy light fills her eyes. “Trust me. You don’t even want to know the kind of shit I have on Greg. There’s no way he’s talking to your coach.”
I stay until four, holding Natalie against me until it’s time to leave. I don’t have her confidence about Baxter keeping his mouth shut, but on the outside chance she’s right, better to err on the side of caution.
I need to sleep, but I need to do something else first. So after a quic
k shower and change, I hop back in my car and head a few miles north. O’Brian lives in one of those high-rises down by the lake, and when I text that I’m parked around the corner, he meets me on the street five minutes later.
Dressed in a pair of joggers, hat, and an insulated jacket, he nods toward the lakefront and we start to walk. “Considering I’ve invited you to my place a dozen times and you’ve turned me down every one, I’m guessing this is pretty serious. You get traded?”
I shake my head, blowing out a breath that fogs the frigid air. “No. Not yet, anyway. But that thing last night…”
He stops walking and closes his eyes. “Oh shit, tell me you didn’t knock her up. Because if you did? It’s been nice knowing you. Baxter will hunt your ass to the end of the earth.”
“She’s not pregnant.” Though that spot in the center of my chest that’s been acting out since Vancouver feels a little funny at the thought. Not funny bad, which is fucking crazy. But not why I’m standing outside when it’s not even a handful of degrees above freezing and the sun’s barely broken the horizon. “Baxter knows.”
“Fuuuck.”
“That about sums it up.”
We start to walk again and I tell him what happened, skimming over the details of what he walked in on, and the gist of how it went down after.
He squints at me. “But you didn’t knock him back?”
“Come on, man. She’s his little sister.” Hell, I might actually respect the guy more for wanting to protect her.
“Don’t get me wrong. You had it coming. Just wasn’t sure you’d see it that way.”
There are a few runners out, but otherwise the paths are mostly empty. Even with the skeletal trees and cutting wind, it’s pretty. Relaxing to be by the water. It’s the kind of place it would have been nice to bring Natalie to if she’d been any other girl than the one she is.
“How’d you leave it? I mean, I’m guessing Greg isn’t looking for you to put a ring on his sister’s finger. But any declarations made to smooth his feathers?”
Declarations?
He shakes his head in disbelief. “You tell him that you love her? That she’s coming to Oregon with you at the end of the season?”
“She’s not coming to Oregon.” And as to the other? I haven’t said it to Natalie yet, so I’m sure as fuck not telling O’Brian or Baxter first. “Don’t get me wrong, if I thought it would make her happy, I’d be all about her moving with me. But this is her home.”
“Give it time, man. She’ll come around.”
I’m not up for rehashing all the reasons I know she won’t, so I clear my throat and get to what I came to say.
“Look, Quinn, I know I can be an asshole. I didn’t want to be in Chicago and I wasn’t much of a team player. But you were relentless and—” I clear my throat, hating what a pussy I sound like right now but knowing it has to be said. Especially because there is a very real possibility we won’t be playing together anymore. “Hell, thank you for that, because we played some fucking amazing hockey together. And if I screwed that up, then I’m sorry, man. You deserved better.”
Quinn rubs a hand over his mouth and nods, staring out at the lake. Then cutting me a sidelong look, he says, “So I’m thinking this is my window for guilting you into some of the kinky shit I get up to, right?”
I cough out a laugh. “Jesus.”
“Admit it, you’re dying for details.”
Not even close. But man, I’m hoping like hell I haven’t blown my chance to finish out the season with this guy.
Chapter 17
Natalie
Vaughn’s been gone for two hours already when I get up. I could have slept the whole day, but I need to see Greg and I want to do it before practice. After a quick shower, I pull on a pair of leggings and a Wisconsin sweatshirt, throw my hair back in a messy knot and head to Dunkin’ Donuts. Then, using my keycard and some sweet talk for Joe down in the lobby, I let myself into Greg’s place. Standing at his bedroom door, I take a donut hole from the bag and whip it at the lump in his bed.
“Ow!” he grunts as I flip on the lights. Eyes closed, of course. Julia’s out of town, but Greg sleeps naked and one of us being scarred for life is enough.
“What the fuck, Nat!” he coughs amid a shuffle of sheets.
“What? I thought we let ourselves in to each other’s places these days.”
“I thought you were sick.”
I pop a donut hole in my mouth and then wing another one in the direction of his voice.
“Fuck! Knock that shit off.”
I don’t think so. “Put your nuts and berries away. I want a word.”
He brushes past me, wearing a pair of Slayers sweats, and grabs the bag out of my hand.
“Hey, those aren’t for you to eat.”
The scowl he throws over his shoulder satisfies the little sister in me immensely, and I follow him back to the kitchen where I’ve left the coffees. He sweeps his off the counter and jerks a chair out from the table, dropping into it with a sour grunt.
Standing at the counter, I take a sip of my own. He looks up at me with that pissy, expectant stare, but I did my explaining last night. Besides, everyone knows the one to talk first loses.
My brother might be the hotshot NHL player, with three years and a hundred pounds on me, but I’m not his pushover.
The guy makes it about thirty seconds before slumping back into his chair.
“Fine, fuck it.” He throws a hand out to the side. “I shouldn’t have barged in there and beat the fuck out of your shady hookup.”
I raise a brow and take another sip. “Is that what happened?” Because I’m pretty sure Vaughn let him pop him twice as a courtesy. And while normal humans might need a trip to the ER after a blow from my brother, Vaughn didn’t bat an eye. And when I kissed him goodbye this morning, there wasn’t even a bruise.
Greg’s jaw tics, and I figure I’ve got as much of a victory as I’m going to get. Joining him at the table, I grab a donut hole. “You can’t go to your coach with this. You and Vaughn don’t have to get along, you never have before. But you need to be able to play on the same team, because like it or not, he’s really good.”
“Don’t turn this around on me, Nat. He’s the one who fucked our team when he started fucking my little sister.”
He still can’t accept that Vaughn might be with me for any reason other than him. It’s an unfortunate side effect of so many years in the spotlight.
Only even as I think it, I realize that not all players are like that.
Vaughn isn’t.
Still, I need to work with what I have. “I understand that you’re upset. But look at what your team is doing this season. Look at what Quinn and Vaughn did in the game last night.”
Scrubbing the back of his head, he blows out a harsh breath.
Translation: Yes, they really tore it up. Vassar is a true asset to the team.
“You guys have a solid chance at the Cup. Everyone is talking about it. But what do you think happens if Vaughn is suddenly up and gone?”
He scowls at the ceiling.
Translation: I may not like it, but I know you’re right.
“You owe it to the fans, Greg. You owe it to the team. And you owe it to yourself to put your differences aside. Because you’re the captain.”
“Jesus, enough.”
Okay, so I might have been overselling that last part a bit.
Arms crossing over his chest, he leans over the table. “Why him? Seriously, Nat, were you pissed at me or something? I mean, yeah, I know it was rough getting yanked out of a school you liked because of me. I know Mom and Dad shortchanged you in a lot of ways. But you know I did everything I could to make that up to you when I had the chance. Are you still mad?”
And dang it, he looks kind of devastated right now and I don’t think I can take it. Because even with the way he acted last night, he’s not a bad guy. He’s one of the best, with a heart so big, sometimes it overwhelms me.
“Greg, thi
s thing with Vaughn has nothing to do with being pissed at you. It never did.” Yes, I was angry when we had to move so Greg could be on a competitive team where he’d have a chance at getting noticed. And getting pulled again going into my junior year sucked. I’d been picked as captain and it didn’t matter because Greg had been picked to play for the NHL. It was hard being his sister sometimes, but I didn’t resent him. “The thing is, when you ask me why him… it wasn’t about being pissed at you, but I lied when I said it wasn’t about you at all. At least for me.”
One thick brow arches. “Explain.”
“Look, I love you for caring enough about me to look out for me with guys, but even at fourteen that protective streak made dating a little rough.”
“Rough how? What the fuck were you going to do at fourteen?”
I pat the air between us, signaling him to chill.
“Rough like, all you had to do was look at a guy and he’d be ready to pee himself. I’ve got news for you, watching your dates or prospective dates cower at the mere mention of your brother’s name isn’t hot. And even once you weren’t around—”
“What?” His eyes narrow and he leans forward. “Did some asswipe decide to act tough because I wasn’t around to do anything about it?”
This from the guy who took it upon himself to meet with the varsity hockey team in my new school and ask them for “a favor.” To make sure no one tried to take advantage of me. Those guys had a freshly minted NHL player showing up to talk to them. He knew their names. And he had their loyalty. “No, Greg. In fact, the two or three times a guy was dumb enough to show an interest in me, we suddenly had half the hockey team hanging around watching. And, rest assured, they would have taken a puck to the teeth before asking me out themselves.”
He grins. “You’re welcome.”
“Whatever. It was fine. I didn’t date, but it wasn’t terrible having half the hockey team adopt me. I’m still friends with most of them today. Stood up in six of their weddings and am godmother to one’s daughter.”
DIRTY SECRET: A Slayers Hockey Novel Page 11