The Risk Taker: A Brother's Best Friend Hockey Romance (Boston Hawks Hockey)

by Gina Azzi

  With that, Claire removes herself from the kitchen.

  Austin and I glare at each other. I sigh, deciding to man up. “I care about her, man. A lot.”

  Austin narrows his gaze. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  I raise my hands in the air. “Because I’m a fuckup, Austin. I know it; you know it. But that girl”—I point to the doorway Claire disappeared through—“believes in me. She’s been helping me more than you can ever imagine. I’m trying to be enough for her and in order to do that, I can’t deal with the noise that everyone else is going to throw our way. This thing between us is too new. We’re too fragile. And I’m still too fucked up.”

  Austin scrapes his hand over his face. “How long?”

  “Almost two months.”

  He swears. “You’re for real?”

  I nod. “I’ll be good to your sister, Austin. I’ll always put her first. I’ll always protect her, even from myself if I have to.”

  “What’s that mean, Easton?” His voice is sharp.

  “It means that Claire is my priority. More than worrying about your hurt feelings or how pissed off Joe is going to be. More than my playing hockey or having all of this.” I throw my arms out wide. “Some days, I only show up because she believes I will. She’s keeping me going, Austin. And I won’t take advantage of her heart, even if I have to hurt mine to protect hers.”

  Austin considers my words for a long minute before nodding. “I’m still pissed as fuck at you.”

  “I know.”

  “Treat her right.”

  “I will.”

  “We put this behind us on the ice. Put the team first.”

  “I agree.”

  He nods, moving toward the door. “But I’m not ready to sit at your table and shoot the shit. Right now, I want to put my fist through your face. You lied to me, Easton.”

  I shake my head. “I never lied to you, Austin.”

  “It was a lie by omission.”

  “My loyalty is to Claire,” I tell him, so he knows exactly where I stand.

  He considers this, nodding once. “I guess I can’t be mad at that because I’d want the guy my sister’s dating to put her first.” He glares at me. “I just wish it wasn’t you.”

  His words plow into the center of my chest like the punch from a MMA champion. It’s a devastating blow and it takes me a moment to find my voice. “I understand.”

  “Good,” Austin says, opening the front door and stepping outside. He doesn’t look back.

  I close the door after him. A heavy silence settles over the house. I know that Claire and I did the right thing by standing up for ourselves, for what’s between us. I know I did the right, mature, manly thing by speaking with Austin one-on-one.

  I know it. But I don’t feel it. My chest tightens and pressure builds in my head until my temples pound.

  If I did everything the way I was supposed to, why the hell do I feel so off-balance? Like I just shifted our lives a quarter of an inch in the wrong direction and now, the foundation that connects me, Claire, Austin, Noah, Indy, all the Merricks, is on shaky ground?

  18

  Claire

  “Hey! How was practice?” I ask Easton when he comes through the front door.

  He pauses, his eyes shuttering closed. He brushes a hand through his hair, and stows his practice bag. “Fine.”

  “You hungry?” I lean my shoulder against the doorframe and study him. Shadows are stamped beneath his eyes and he hasn’t shaved since Sunday. He looks exhausted, but it’s more than that. Ever since he spoke to Austin, he’s been aloof and distant toward me.

  “Nah. Already ate.” He shuts the closet door and scrubs a hand over his face, his finger tracing his scar.

  “Okay,” I blow out a breath. “Do you want to —”

  “I have some videos I need to watch before Thursday’s game.” He cuts me off and strides toward the stairs. “It’s going to be a late night for me so…don’t wait up.” He drops his head so he doesn’t have to meet my eyes. In the next blink, he’s halfway up the staircase.

  I stare after him, my mouth dropped open in disbelief. Coldness trickles down my back and my stomach turns. Is Easton blowing me off? Did he have a tough few days at practice? Does he need some space? Even as the thoughts flit through my mind, I recognize them for what they are. Excuses.

  Instead of manning up and having a real conversation with me, Easton is pushing me away. He’s showing me that he’s done with me. That things with my brother, with the team, are too rocky for him to want to fight for us. For me.

  His dismissal hurts more than I thought it would. It hurts a hell of a lot more than it used to before we became roommates, before he kissed me like he meant it. I press the heel of my hand into the center of my chest, trying to alleviate some of the pressure gathering there. For the third night in a row, I occupy my time with reality TV, praying that Easton will make an appearance, that he’ll invite me back into his bed. Instead, I sleep alone. When I wake in the morning, he’s already gone.

  His absence feels devastating, shattering my heart and causing my mind to jump into overdrive. I can’t focus on anything that isn’t related to him and after writing my third shitty cover letter, I blow off my job search and text Rielle. My desperation must come through in the message because she agrees to meet for a coffee even though she’s at work.

  Forty minutes later, I’m sitting in the back of our favorite coffee spot, about to sob into a plate of scones.

  “What happened?” Rielle asks, her gaze sympathetic.

  “It’s awful,” I lament, tucking my hair behind my ears. “Austin caught us—”

  “Having sex?” she gasps.

  I snort a half laugh, half sob, and shake my head. “No, thank God, no. We were just kissing but he’s furious.”

  “How furious?” Rielle lifts a skeptical eyebrow.

  “Angrier than the time we used his air hockey table to play Alcohockey.”

  Rielle sputters on her macchiato, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth. “Damn, he was pissed that night. In all fairness, we were drunk.”

  “He was furious that we cut the holes in it for our Solo cups.”

  She snickers. “I forgot we did that. How the hell did we manage power tools drunk?”

  “I have no idea,” I say, ripping a scone in half and stuffing my face. Let it be known that Claire Merrick excels at emotional eating. It’s one of my many talents.

  “What happened after Austin saw you?” She gentles her tone.

  “He came back to Easton’s place and I tried to lay down the law.”

  Rielle raises another eyebrow. Why doesn’t anyone take me seriously?

  “By your expression, I’m sure you know it didn’t work.”

  “They fought?” she asks and I don’t miss the glimmer of excitement in her eyes.

  I roll mine. “No, Rielle. Easton basically told Austin that our relationship was none of his business and to back off.”

  Rielle’s mouth drops open. “Are you kidding me?” she whispers excitedly. “Holy shit, Claire, he really likes you.”

  I narrow my eyes. “That’s what I’ve been saying. We’re in this together.”

  “Yeah”—she waves a hand—“but I didn’t realize that he’d go to bat for you like that. Go against Austin.”

  “And stick up for me with Dad.”

  “What?”

  I fill her in on Easton having my back with the band logos and album covers.

  Rielle nods along, her expression growing more curious with each sentence I share. “Babe.” She pushes the plate of scones closer to me so I can start my second one. “I don’t get it. This is good, right? You’ve wanted Easton for so long and here he is, sticking up for you with your family, going all in with you, for you. Why are you crying?”

  I close my eyes. The next part is too dreadful to admit aloud. To Rielle’s credit, she waits patiently, knowing I’m going to cave and tell her all the worried thoughts clanging around in my he
ad.

  I take a steadying breath and admit, “I think he regrets it.”

  She’s quiet and I force my eyes open.

  Rielle studies me for a long moment, her expression serious. “You think he regrets sticking up for you or …”

  “I don’t know,” I admit. “But on Sunday, we were making out like teenagers at my parents’ house and for the past couple of days, he’s gone by the time I wake up. Last night, he didn’t even want us to sleep together. He comes home late at night and mentions something about watching hockey reels or studying plays, and crashes early.” I shake my head. “He’s freezing me out, Rielle. Last week, I was mentally planning our future, and now I’m waiting for him to end things with me.”

  Rielle frowns and bites her bottom lip as she considers my words. “Do you think it was too much too soon?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Claire, he just got out of rehab a few months ago. In that time, he had to start over with his team, accept that Noah is with Indy now and has his own life, and got pretty serious with you. The only family he has, not counting Noah, is yours. If he feels like his relationship with them is on shaky ground”—she shrugs—“maybe he’s just processing it all and everything is too overwhelming?”

  “Maybe,” I admit, hating that she could be right. Did I somehow push Easton too close to the edge? Is his relationship with me, or the fallout with Austin, going to trigger him to make a decision that ends with him losing his AA gold coin?

  Dread weighs heavy in my chest as I consider the possibility of being responsible for Easton’s downward spiral. Guilt churns in my stomach and I push the plate of scones away.

  “Claire.”

  I look up into the wise eyes of my best friend. She places a hand on my wrist, leaning forward until the ends of her dark hair drag across the table. She lowers her voice. “This isn’t your fault.”

  “What if it is?” I whisper, both relieved and embarrassed that she can read my thoughts.

  “It’s not. You’ve been in love with Easton for—”

  “For forever,” I finish her sentence. “What if his feelings for me aren’t real? I mean, what if he thinks they are because he’s so caught up in the moment. But what if I’m really just a distraction for him while the rest of his life seems out of his control? “Oh my God,” I whisper as horror washes over me. “Do you think I’m his crutch?”

  Rielle bites her bottom lip again. It’s something she does when she has a million things to say but doesn’t know if she should say them or not.

  “Say it,” I urge her.

  “I don’t know.” She shakes her head, looking miserable. “At first, I thought maybe.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Because you were so happy,” she admits. “And you deserve to be happy, Claire. I know this past year has been tough on you with your job search. Savannah’s in New York now, Indy is having a baby, and I know that I’m never really around.” Her eyes darken and an expression I don’t understand ripples across her face. She clears her throat and her face smooths out once more. “Easton filled you up with so much of your bubbly sparkle and it looked really good on you. I didn’t want to fill your head with pessimistic shit when you were blissed out. Besides, I didn’t really know. I’ve never seen you with East. When you told me how he stood up for you with your family… I do think he has deeper feelings for you. It’s just that all of it at once, right now, could be a lot for him.”

  I nod, thinking over her words. “Yeah, maybe.”

  “You’ve got two options.”

  I glance at Rielle, waiting for her to continue.

  “Either press him for an answer or give him some space.”

  I sigh, leaning back in my seat. “I don’t want to put him on the spot. Besides, he’s leaving for an away game tonight. He’ll be gone ‘til Friday.”

  “Then why don’t you suggest that he hang out with Noah, have a guys’ night on Friday or Saturday. Maybe his brother can help him come to terms with his strain with Austin, help him sort through his thoughts. And you come out with me.”

  My mouth drops open. “Go out with you? Ri, I’ve been begging you for months to go clubbing with me. Or at least drinks that aren’t at Indy’s or your place.”

  She sighs, rubbing her fingers over her forehead. “I know. I’ve been a shit friend, Claire. But things have been so hectic at work and I, well, I need to blow off some steam too.”

  I narrow my eyes at her cryptic message. “What’s going on?”

  She shakes her head and gives me a quick smile. “Nothing. We’re not talking about me today; we’re focusing on you. What do you say? Out this weekend?”

  I hesitate, not wanting to shoot Rielle down when I’ve been trying since summer to get her to party with me. On the other hand, Aiden Hardsin, Indy’s best friend, reached out about seeing Big Roxi perform on Saturday night. “Aiden, Indy’s friend—”

  “The entertainment lawyer?”

  “Yeah. He invited me to tag along with him on Saturday. He’s going to check out a bluegrass band and later on, a rapper who’s performing near you. Do you want to come? We can always hit up a club afterwards.” I force myself to tack on the last part. Because now, a night out in a dark club with pulsing energy and reckless decisions isn’t as tempting as it was a few months ago. I used to crave nights out, now I crave nights in on the couch with Easton. Thank God Indy encouraged Aiden to reach out to me. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be hitting the music scene looking for clients as hard as I should. And my social life would be nonexistent.

  Rielle smiles, her expression devoid of judgement. “Sure, that sounds cool.” She stands from the table. “I’m sorry, babe. But I really have to get back to work. Let me know about this weekend. If you don’t want to party, we can always grab dinner before we meet up with Aiden.”

  “Yeah, that could work,” I agree.

  “You want to head out with me or hang for a bit?”

  I glance around the quiet coffee shop. There’s a lull in activity, the period between lunch and the after-work crowd. If I go back to Easton’s, I’ll risk disrupting his mood and feeling even worse about myself. I glance at the plate with half a scone left.

  “I’ll hang for a bit.”

  “Okay.” Rielle wraps her arm around my neck in a quick hug. “I’ll talk to you later. Call me if you need me. For real.” She fixes me with a look.

  I manage a small smile. “Promise.”

  “You’ll be okay, Claire,” she says with a wave.

  I watch her leave and blow out a sigh. A wave of emotion rumbles through me as I recall the past few nights. The loneliness that stabbed me when Easton would come home and glance at me with barely concealed hurt in his eyes. It’s like my presence pains him. Gone are the warm embraces and steamy exchanges. For weeks, we couldn’t get enough of each other, our bodies so in sync I wondered how I lived so long and dated, without experiencing the intensity and passion I shared with Easton.

  Now, we walk around each other on eggshells. We exist in each other’s space without connecting. Everything is polite and cordial, cold and stiff. I look at him and see both a man I love struggling and a stranger I don’t recognize.

  How can so much change in such a short amount of time? How can I be in the same room as Easton and feel like he’s half a world away?

  I finish the rest of the second scone as my phone beeps.

  Glancing down at the incoming email, my heart lodges in my throat when I read the subject line.

  Phone Interview.

  My fingers tremble as I swipe to open the email, my eyes scanning the message rapidly. A pharmaceutical company in New Jersey is looking for a graphic designer to join their pharmaceutical packaging team. It’s an entry-level position with a standard salary and benefits package. I work a swallow. A tinge of pride rises in my throat but it’s stamped out by the realization that I would spend my entire day designing standard, straightforward, generic medical packaging. It’s a far cry from the
exciting, creative, edgy album covers I’ve been doing in recent weeks.

  Still, it’s a job. A real, nine-to-five, I’ll-have-fourteen-vacation-days-a-year kind of job that will make my father proud.

  I blow out a deep breath and drop my phone into my purse. Even though I should be happy and relieved, my good feelings are overshadowed by Easton’s distance. I always thought my friends who got so caught up in guys were silly, but now I realize how hard it is to battle against the emotions of being hopelessly and desperately in love with someone.

  It’s awful.

  Standing from my chair, I grab my wallet and walk to the counter. Then, I order another latte and a chocolate chip cookie.

  19

  Easton

  Austin’s glare is pure steel as he skates past me. I turn and stare at him but he keeps skating, calling out to Torsten and James, our defensive line.

  Noah’s hand settles on my shoulder. “Easy.”

  I stare at my brother. Everything about him is different than me. Where he’s got dark eyes, I’ve inherited my father’s blue. Where he’s dependable and responsible, I’m reckless and wild. Noah is a model citizen and I walk the edge. He can manage his liquor and I’m a damn alcoholic.

  How can two brothers be so vastly different?

  We were raised the same, with bitter, neglectful parents, in a hollow, tense house. We grew up on sharp pinches and cutting remarks. We both poured our energy and focus into hockey.

  But Noah’s always been the better of the two of us. Most of the hockey introductions I got were because of him. His prowess on the ice led to a better contract for me when he packaged us as a duo. My whole life, my brother has had my back. Everyone knows I wouldn’t be the player I am without Noah.

  Especially my father.

  Staring into the eyes that are opposite of mine, I recall the nights Dad set up the net in the back of the house. It was blistering cold. The kind of cold that freezes parts of your anatomy and makes hot air burn more than soothe. For hours, Dad would slap empty beer bottles and cans at my head. He’d remind me, with his strength and with his words, that I’d be completely worthless, more worthless than him, if it wasn’t for Noah.