Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

KATE

" T he Blades are still high up on my shit list," I say, pointing to the game on the huge TV screen mounted on Zach and Luna's lounge wall.

"They should've made an example out of him," my friend, Luna Johnson, nods in agreement. Her now fiancé, Zach Evans, is the key defenseman and the Scorpions' assistant captain. Eighteen months ago, and thanks to his manipulative ex-girlfriend, Amie, he took a dirty hit on the ice courtesy of the former New York Blades' defenseman, Alex Schneider, and it left him hospitalized. Thankfully, Zach has been able to continue playing, but that hit could've killed him, and with the way Zach was unsteady coming into this season, he knew it, too.

"At least Schneider will never play again since no team wants to go within ten feet of a contract." Luna sits back on the couch and crosses her legs, sipping her tea. "I hope we absolutely trash them tonight."

"It would be poetic justice," Felicity adds from my other side as our close trio sits on the couch armed with all the snacks and drinks we could find in the store. Felicity is the Scorpions' captain, Jon Morgan's fiancée, but he already refers to her as his wife. She's also my best friend and colleague at Preston that boy is all kinds of possessive when it comes to his girl.

"Zach is so desperate to get me knocked up. The night before he left for New York, he fucked me so hard, and when he came, he lifted my pelvis off the mattress convinced ‘gravity would help.'"

"I think I fell pregnant just from hearing that." Felicity's jaw hangs open.

"In Jon's dreams," I say around the rim of my wine glass.

She waves a hand in the air as she rises from the couch and heads through the open plan space to the kitchen. "Meh, I don't think he's fussed. He's kind of adopted Jack these days."

"Things still bad with Elliott?" Luna shouts over to her.

She peers inside the freezer. "Yep, my ex-husband has finally shown his true colors to our son, and Jack is old enough to recognize that he's a manipulative jerk." She shuts the freezer door with her hip and pops the lid on a tub of chocolate fudge brownie. "And I have zero intention of doing anything about it. I can't hide who their father really is from my children anymore. Darcy will no doubt wake up to it sooner or later."

"Honestly, I don't know how you've kept your cool with that narcissist all these years. I'd have buried him under his English patio years ago," I bite out.

She strides back over to us in her sleep set and bunny slippers, frowning at the ice cream, still too hard to dig her spoon in. "Yeah, well, it's more powerful when they work it out for themselves. Plus, he can never claim I turned them against him."

"You're a better woman than me," I drawl.

"And me," Luna adds.

Felicity tucks her legs underneath her as she sits back on the couch between us. "Yeah, well, when you become moms, you'll get it."

"If," Luna whispers.

"When. You'll find a way, no matter what," Felicity corrects her.

The players re-take the ice for the start of the second period, and we all fall silent, knowing the game is reaching its business end. The next forty minutes will be key to clinching the Stanley Cup.

"He's been unbelievable tonight," Luna nods and then points at number eighty-eight as he takes to the ice.

"Sorry, who's that?"

She looks over at me, raising an unimpressed brow at my immaturity.

"You know who."

I definitely know who she's talking about. Despite my hatred of him, I haven't been able to tear my eyes from the way he stretches on the ice before games. The way he humps it in all his padded glory should be illegal and is definitely not suitable for family viewing.

I hate how I respond to him, even after eighteen months since the incident at Riley's Bar—he infuriates me. He makes me want to scream into the nearest pillow with rage at his crooked and cocky smile whenever I see it. But I especially hate how he makes my body flutter whenever I see him.

"He's been distinctly average, in my opinion. The Blades goalie has been far superior."

Luna balks at me. "How'd you work that one out? JJ is on for a shutout, and their goalie isn't."

JJ.

I catch sight of Felicity's head spinning to Luna, her eyes flaring at the use of that name.

"It's fine," I say, tipping my chin up. "Use that nickname all you want. It means nothing to me."

The drive to my parents is only ten minutes. They live on one of the most exclusive streets in Seattle in an ornate mansion that has been the Monroe family home for decades, inherited through several generations.

Being only a short drive, you'd think I'd be back home to visit my family more often. The real truth is that I'm rarely here, and I have no intention of changing that any time soon.

It couldn't be further from a family home. It's cold and formal, which is everything my downtown apartment isn't.

When Easton left for college, I had to wait two years before I could move out and head for Connecticut.

Two of the longest years of my life.

Study, study, study.

As I pull through the black iron gates leading up to the property, I round the driveway and pull up behind my brother's black Porsche 911.

I haven't been "home" in months, and I'm only here because my brother is.

The gravel crunches under my feet as I step out of my car and look around the well-manicured gardens—all tended to by a team of gardeners. Violet and Henry, my dad, would never do something as manual as gardening.

I open the trunk of my car and pull out my cocktail dress and overnight bag just as the front door to the house swings open.

I can't help the whopping smile that breaks out across my face when I see him.

My brother's arms are folded across his chest, and he's leaning against one of the white pillars on the porch. His blond hair and tanned skin are blonder and darker thanks to the Arabic sun. And as I approach the bottom of the porch, I skip the final couple of steps before he wraps his arms around me in a tight bear hug.

The only hug I ever get from my family.

Other than my two girls, he is my safe space, and more than that, he gets what it's like to live under the ever-heavy expectations of our parents. Still, he has always been the favorite and the one they go easier on.

"Hey, Katherine," he whispers into my hair.

He's at least six inches taller than me, and I'm not petite at five-eight.

"You're the only one who can get away with using my full name. Do you know that, East?" I pull back and throw my arms around his neck, planting a kiss on his cheek.

"And you're the only one who calls me East. Just don't do it for the next twenty-four hours, yeah?" He winces and tips his head inside. "She's on one."

I press my lips together, anxiety rolling through me. "In what way?"

"The caterers messed up and didn't provide enough entrées, so she's had to place a last-minute order, and they have three hours to deliver them."

"Oh, dear," I mock. "It's almost as if her gluttonous rich friends will go hungry."

He quirks an amused brow. "It's a concern for sure."

"Kate!" I hear Violet's voice echo through the foyer. "Don't loiter on the porch. It looks bad."

Ugh.

My brother lifts my bag from my shoulder, and we turn to walk inside.

"I'm only here for you. You know that."

He smiles over his shoulder at me. "Likewise."