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

by Gina Azzi

  If that isn’t love, then I don’t know what is. But I’m still suffering through love’s sacrifices. She really is a fickle bitch.

  Indy smiles at me, squeezing my fingers before dropping them. “I’m proud of you, Claire.”

  I dip into a half bow. “Thank you, thank you. And thank you both for all of your help. I couldn’t have pulled it off without you.”

  Rielle drains her wine glass and grins. “Anytime. I’m just relieved you’re not moving to New Jersey.”

  I laugh. “Yeah, me too.”

  Rielle stands and nudges the wine bottle closer to me. “I gotta head to work but you stay and drink the wine.” She points at me. “You can keep her company.” She grins at Indy.

  Indy and I laugh but we get to our feet too. “You really have to head to work now?” I ask, knowing the answer.

  “You work more than anyone I know,” Indy chimes in. “You better get this promotion.”

  Rielle’s smile slips and for a second, a ripple of worry splashes over her face. But then she smooths her expression out and forces a laugh. “Yeah. I hope so.”

  Something about her voice tugs at me and I touch her arm. “Rielle, is everything okay?” I ask the question that’s been circling in my mind for weeks. But for most of them, I was too consumed with my own drama to really ask my best friend how she’s managing hers.

  Rielle bites her bottom lip and her eyes widen but she nods. “Yeah, I’m okay.” She tucks her hair behind her ears and shrugs one shoulder. “I’ve just been under a lot of pressure at work lately. Sometimes, I feel overwhelmed.”

  “You sure that’s it?” I ask, pressing for more info.

  She glances between Indy and me. “I’m sure.”

  “Okay,” Indy says, leaning forward to kiss Rielle’s cheek goodbye. “But if you need to vent, you know who to call.” She places a hand on her swelling belly. “I pretty much live on my couch after 4 p.m.”

  Rielle chuckles. “You look amazing, Indy. Glowing and all that.”

  “And all that,” I agree, snorting.

  I hug my best friend goodbye and follow my cousin out to her car.

  “You think she’s telling the truth?” I ask Indy.

  Indy unlocks the car doors and pauses with her hand on the handle. “I don’t know,” she says thoughtfully. “I think she’s telling us as much as she can at the moment. She does seem overwhelmed and her job is really intense. She’s not an over-sharer so sometimes I wonder if she even knows how to vent.”

  I nod, agreeing with her assessment. Even though Rielle and I roomed in college, she is a very private person. I pull open the passenger side door. “Want to grab dinner?”

  Indy and I both slide inside and she turns on the car. “Mexican?”

  “Duh,” I agree. Ever since the first time I ate at the Mexican fusion place the day Easton left rehab, I’ve been a repeat customer. A solid two times a week.

  Indy clicks in her seatbelt and backs out of the parking spot, heading toward her apartment. “You going to buy a car now that you’re hanging around?”

  I laugh, patting the dashboard. “Why would I do that when I have you and Austin to chauffeur me?”

  She snorts.

  “Maybe,” I say slowly. “As soon as I find a place to live.”

  “Aunt Mary and Uncle Joe already driving you nuts?” Indy glances at me from the corner of her eye.

  “They mean well. It’s just…I’m ready to move forward with my life, you know?”

  Indy nods, stopping at a red light. She turns to me and smiles. “I know. But Claire, you already are.”

  I think about that the rest of the way to the restaurant. It sticks with me all through dinner, at night when I stay up late working, and for the rest of the week.

  Indy’s right. I already am.

  Two Weeks Later

  The best thing about the start of April? The promise of spring is around the corner. And the Hawks qualify for the playoffs.

  The night they win their final qualifying game, the city erupts. Cheers ring out, flags wave from front porches, apartment windows, and cars, and everyone is drinking to a possible Stanley Cup win.

  A second-trimester Indy is much more energetic than a first-trimester Indy and we join the excited team at Taps for celebratory drinks.

  Tonight, Taps is overflowing with eager fans. The back section of the pub, reserved for the team, is rowdier than usual with players’ friends and family members squeezing inside.

  Indy’s cheeks are bright red from the cold and happiness as she dances next to the bar. Her baby bump is finally noticeable and I’m taking great joy in documenting her pregnancy, much to Noah’s delight and Indy’s horror. But, as the family graphic designer, we all know who’s going to make the elaborate scrapbooks and photo albums. Raises hand.

  “Water or ginger ale?” I ask Indy as I lean over the bar to catch Pete’s eye.

  “Ginger ale,” she says.

  I nod, glancing down the bar.

  Deep blue eyes latch onto mine and I draw in a sharp inhale. Easton’s here. His face lights up when he sees me and I work a swallow, drinking him in like it’s been years instead of just over a month.

  And I want to groan. Out loud for all to hear.

  Because Easton Scotch looks incredible. Mouthwatering. Sexy and hot and ripped and—

  “Did you order?” Indy elbows me.

  I swat her away and continue my unashamed perusal of the only man to make me come on demand.

  His shy grin turns cocky the longer I stare but I don’t care.

  Because his eyes are clear, his skin is brighter, and his mouth. Oh God, that mouth. It’s soft and full and I can still recall with perfect clarify the way it felt dragging over my skin.

  “Claire?” Indy nudges me again.

  Easton slips from his barstool and I don’t look away as he makes his way to me.

  “Oh,” Indy says when she spots him. “I’ll be…over there.”

  I nod, not bothering to look where “there” is.

  He moves closer and I turn so my back is pressing into the ledge of the bar. Around me, people call out orders and clamor for Pete’s attention. Taps is noisy and crowded. But everything seems to melt away except Easton.

  “I didn’t know if you’d come,” he says when he stops in front of me. Someone knocks into him from behind and he shifts closer, until the tips of our shoes are kissing. “I hoped you would,” he admits, gripping the back of his neck and offering me a sheepish grin, “but I didn’t know.”

  “I didn’t expect to see you here, either.”

  He shrugs, glancing around at the team and the crowd. “It’s a big night so… I’m on my best behavior,” he jokes, raising a glass with club soda and lemon.

  “Congratulations on making the playoffs.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You played really well tonight and, well, all month really. You managed to reclaim your spot from Sims.”

  He nods, slowly. He dips his chin and lowers his mouth to his drink. Easton takes a sip and I stare, mesmerized. “You watched?”

  “Every game.”

  My answer pleases him. His easy grin, the one I remember from years ago, slides across his face. “Now you’re just feeding my ego.”

  I laugh, and a wave of nostalgia pierces my soul. I miss this. With him. I miss him. “Your ego doesn’t need feeding.”

  He shakes his head, winking at me. “Only from you, Clairebear.”

  I smile, dipping my head. When I look back up, I’m surprised by the seriousness of Easton’s expression.

  “How are you?” he asks. It’s a loaded question and I know by the glint in his eyes that he’s asking about everything behind the question.

  “I’m okay,” I say.

  He studies me for a long moment and grins. “Good,” he says, satisfied with my answer.

  “You?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “I’m managing. Taking things day by day. I,” he chuckles nervously, scraping a hand over his ja
w, “I miss you, Claire. There have been so many times I wanted to reach out and call you. To tell you, God, a million things. Everything.”

  “I wish you did.”

  He wets his lips. “Me too.” Easton’s hand reaches out and grips my forearm, sliding down slowly until he clasps my wrist. “Can we talk?”

  “Sure.” I’d follow you anywhere. Thank God I don’t say the words. Instead, I follow Easton around the side of the bar to a little alcove.

  He leans against the wall, his expression intense.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, starting to worry that something happened.

  He takes a deep breath. “Hear me out?”

  I nod.

  “I know we haven’t talked in a month. I know I have no right to ask you this. But, Claire, my feelings for you haven’t changed. If I didn’t see you tonight, it would only be a matter of time until I reached out.”

  I frown, taking his hand in mine and lacing our fingers together. “Easton?”

  He smiles that half smile that drives me crazy. “I love you, Claire. God, I’m in love with you. There’s, well, there’s a lot that’s happened. With my Dad. With the team. With my recovery. But I’m doing better. I’m in a better place. And, if you’re open to it, and no pressure if you’re not—”

  “Just say it,” I interrupt, losing my patience.

  He chuckles and cups the side of my face. “Would you go out with me, Claire? On a real date? And if it goes well and you have fun, would you say yes to a second date? Would you consider long distance? New Jersey isn’t that far. I can come out for the summer and we can—”

  “I’m not moving to New Jersey,” I blurt out, frowning that he doesn’t already know that.

  He pauses, surprise obvious in his expression. “You’re not? Why?”

  “Because I didn’t want the job. I told you that.” I grip his wrist that’s still holding my face and lean into his touch. I smile at him. “I opened my own business. ClaireBear Designs. I got a gig with Big Roxi. I’m doing a lot of work for The Burnt Clovers.” I wrinkle my nose and lower my voice. “It’s going really well.”

  He closes his eyes and a massive grin stretches across his face. When his eyes pop back open, they’re warm with pride. “Really?”

  I nod.

  “God, baby, I’m so fucking proud of you.”

  “Thank you,” I say. “And I mean that because I don’t know if I would have had the courage to start if it wasn’t for you.”

  “You would have,” he says with conviction. “Congratulations, Claire.”

  I bite my bottom lip, staring into his eyes and getting lost like always. I shuffle closer. “But if the offer stands to try for not long distance…”

  He drops his head lower and waits for my answer.

  “Then I’d say yes.”

  He smiles, our noses nearly touching. “Yeah?”

  I press up on my toes and kiss him. It’s slow and soulful. It’s better than I remembered. “Yeah.”

  27

  Easton

  Joe Merrick answers the door and rocks back on his heels. “Come on in, East,” he says, stepping to the side.

  For the first time in my adult life, I’m nervous entering the Merrick home. “How’s it going, Joe?” I ask, slipping out of my coat.

  “Fine. You?” He takes my coat and hangs it in the hall closet.

  “Pretty good,” I say, following him into the kitchen.

  “Claire’s still getting dressed.”

  I nod.

  “Water or Coke?” He ducks into the refrigerator.

  “Coke would be good.” I shift my weight from one foot to the other. Joe’s been nothing but polite and cordial since he answered the door but that’s the issue, he’s being polite instead of sincere, stiff instead of warm.

  He tosses me a can and rests his lower back against the countertop. The questioning look in his blue eyes, a shade darker than Claire’s, is warranted and I sigh.

  He deserves an explanation. Jesus, after the way he tried to guide me after the shit my dad put me through, he deserves a hell of a lot more than my silence. “Joe.” I clear my throat, looking him in the eye. I’ve been through enough therapy to know that stating my intentions from the start is the best way forward. “I’m in love with your daughter.”

  He straightens at my words, a flicker of surprise but not shock crossing his expression.

  “I know I’m not good enough for her,” I add. “But I’m trying to be. Claire and I’ve had a complicated relationship for years. I’ve tried to stay away from her. I’ve tried to treat her as Austin’s kid sister. I can’t do it anymore.”

  He takes a swig of his Coke, his expression blank.

  “I’m sorry for the way I treated her and the way things went down between us. But I want to do this right, the way she deserves. I want to date her. I want her to move back in with me if she wants to. I want to do right by her, by your family. And I’d like for you to be okay with it.”

  He regards me coolly. “You asking for my permission, East?”

  I grip the can of Coke, my heart blaring in my eardrums. Honesty, my old enemy, sounds a gong in my head, a warning and a reminder. “No, Joe.” I tell him the truth. “I respect you more than any man I know. But my relationship with Claire is between Claire and me. I’d like your understanding, but I don’t need it.”

  He scoffs, shaking his head. I hold my breath, my stomach knotted. Then, Joe grins and his eyes clear. “You’re still as goddamn stubborn as the day I met you.”

  I manage a half smile, waiting for him to continue.

  He laughs now, shaking his head and stepping toward the kitchen island. “I told Mary’s dad the same thing.”

  My mouth drops open. “You did?”

  He nods. “My father-in-law wasn’t my biggest fan when I first met him. I was a college dropout without two nickels to rub together.”

  A college dropout? “I didn’t know that.”

  He waves a hand. “I finished my degree later on. But at the time, I needed the money to help with my mother’s medical bills. Jemmy hadn’t been called up to the NHL yet. He was still in high school. I don’t regret my decision and I’d do it the same way now as I did then. But Mary’s dad, understandably, was worried about our relationship. I gave him a line similar to what you said. I’d like your understanding, but I don’t need it.”

  “What’d he say?”

  “He laughed, slapped me on the back, and said ‘good.’”

  “‘Good’?”

  “Yep,” Joe chuckles. “Said no man unwilling to stand up for Mary, even to her own father, was good enough for her. And that’s always stuck with me. You’ve been a part of this family for a long time, East. I know you’ve had a tough go of things, both as a kid and more recently. I’ve always believed in your ability to beat anything you put your mind to. I’ve also known for years that you cared about Claire.”

  My mouth drops open.

  He chuckles, gesturing toward me with his Coke. “Claire hid it a lot worse than you but you have a few tells.”

  I chuckle.

  “Anyway, if I can give you a piece of advice…”

  “Please.”

  “Don’t rush it. You went through a lot of transitions this year. So did Claire. They take time to settle. And you guys deserve that time to figure out what you want, both as individuals and, if you decide to, as a couple. Everyone today is always in a rush for the next step. Graduate, work, buy a house, get married, get a dog, have a baby… There’s no right process. I was hard on Claire finding a job because I hated seeing her mope around the house without putting her energy into something constructive. I know I wasn’t as supportive as I should have been when she came to me with ClaireBear Designs but after seeing how hard she’s been working”—he pauses, dipping his head—“and after Mary laid some things out, I can admit that she’s doing a really great job. You saw that in her before any of us. You think you’re not good enough for Claire because of your past but you’re not
giving yourself enough credit, Easton. You’re not acknowledging how hard you’ve worked to get to your present. So take your time and have fun dating.”

  “Daddy!” Claire’s voice floats into the kitchen. “Stop reading him the riot act.”

  Joe snorts. “Stop complaining. Vanny had it worse than you.” He winks at me right before Claire enters the kitchen.

  I don’t respond to Joe because the words are wiped away as soon as I see Claire. Her presence takes the breath from my lungs and rational thought from my mind.

  She straightened her hair and it falls to the center of her back. She’s rocking some sexy black boots, thick black tights, a distressed denim skirt and an oversized cream sweater. She looks like she just stepped out of a magazine.

  But that’s not what causes me to smile. I grin because her eyes are shimmering, the apples of her cheeks are pink, and she looks at me like she can’t believe I’m here.

  Relief blazes through me that this woman, my Clairebear, is giving me another shot. This time, I won’t fuck it up. This time, I vow to take things slow.

  This time, I’m not risking it.

  “You look beautiful.” I place my Coke down.

  She blushes and it’s the sweetest thing. “Thank you. You clean up all right, too.”

  Joe and I both laugh as he gestures to the foyer. “Have a good time, kids. Hey, East, I didn’t even ask. Where are you taking my daughter?”

  I snort, my fingers finding the center of Claire’s back. The moment I touch her, I feel more centered. “The Ivy.”

  Joe whistles. “Pretty fancy for a first date.”

  “Not when it’s this long overdue.”

  Joe chuckles as Claire and I slip into our winter coats. He opens the front door for us and waves goodbye as we walk down the steps toward my car.

  Once we’re inside and the heat is blasting, I turn to Claire. “I’m glad you said yes.”

  She rolls her eyes. “As if any girl would say no to dinner at The Ivy.”