12. EASTON

TWELVE

EASTON

I hate Knox Addison. Hate, hate, hate him.

And for the entire flight home to Denver, I curse the memory of that kiss.

Dear God, that kiss.

"What are you whining about?" Lachie asks.

"I'm not ready for training camp next week," I lie. I'm totally ready. Completely, one hundred percent. I'm not thinking about quitting my hockey career so I can follow my big brother's best friend to Minnesota and cling to him like the desperate loser that I could be if I keep going down this path.

What was he thinking? What was I thinking?

Oh, wait, I know exactly what was going through my head: this is my chance. My chance to show him that if he gave me a shot, I could rock his world with one kiss, and then he'd fall at my feet, declare his love, and tell Connor to shove his overprotective bullshit up his ass.

Instead, I sat and waited.

I waited for him to do all those things.

And all he did was thank me, get up, and leave.

I just got the man to admit he might feel a fraction of the longing I have felt for him all these years, and he goes and makes me fall for him even harder while he still seems unaffected.

Thinking he had no feelings for me at all—only looking at me like a brother—was bad enough. Knowing he wanted me, too, at some point and letting that slip through my fingers?

I'm more tortured than I was before.

"When was the last time you got laid?" Lachie asks.

Considering our parents are across the aisle from us, I glance over to see if they heard that or not and then turn my glare on him.

He scoffs. "You're becoming more and more like Connor every day."

"You take that back."

"No. Ease up, man."

Maybe he has a point. "Do you think when Mom and Dad had us, it was like their bodies could only produce a certain amount of common sense, so Connor got the majority, I have a normal amount, and you have none? I swear you're going to come tumbling out of that closet before you're ready if you keep being this blasé about it. Does it look like I've been having fun since coming out?"

"Which is why I'm asking. When was the last time you got laid?"

I don't want to think about it. "Does a date with my hand count?"

Lachie laughs. He laughs hard.

"Didn't think it was that funny, but whatever."

"I find it ironic that you came out so you could sleep around, and you're yet to do anything fun."

Kissing Knox was fun. "I hate that you're right."

"So go out and fix it. I'm twenty-one in three weeks. If you haven't gotten laid by then, come to Missouri. Get yourself a potato farmer."

I frown. "Isn't it Idaho that grows potatoes? "

"Fucked if I know. But I'm saying, the weekend before preseason starts, I'll be free to play wingman for you."

"Ugh. Just what I need. My little brother trying to get me laid."

I'm under no delusion that sleeping with someone else will get me over this … can I really call it a crush anymore if it's turning into downright obsession? I've had sex with plenty of men before, even thought I was getting over Knox, and then I'd see him again, and I'd realize all those meaningless hookups did nothing to reprieve me of my lust for him.

"Connor sure as fuck isn't going to help when he sends his best friend to cockblock any dude who comes near you."

Lachie says this so casually, as if it's a known fact, when what in the actual hell?

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Why else do you think Knox never left your side this week? At first, I thought, you know, you might be into each other, but that didn't make sense because Connor would hate that and try to keep Knox away from you if he knew. Then you said you had that weird moment, and when I asked Connor about it?—"

"You what?" I shriek, and that finally gets our parents' attention. And probably the people's behind us. About three rows behind us. I shrink down in my seat and wave our parents off. "Misheard what he said."

Mom and Dad go back to watching whatever they're watching on their phones.

"Why did you ask Connor?"

"I didn't say I overheard you two or anything. I asked what happened when you all went out without me. He said something like thanks to Knox, nothing. I figured he made Knox babysit you while he hooked up with that chick."

My head throbs, and the urge to murder is high because I specifically baited Knox to tell me if that was what he was doing, and he flat out—fuck, he didn't deny it at all. He ignored it. What in the fucking fuckery?

I'd figured when we were with the Collective at Tripp and Dex's place that they were shit-stirring and doing the overprotective big-brother thing, but I'd never thought it was serious. That they'd planned it.

Connor and Knox are lucky they got a different flight back because otherwise, I'd be tempted to be one of those mentally unwell people who try to open the door mid-flight so I could toss them both out.

Now I'm questioning everything.

The entire week. Every moment, including that kiss. What was the point of that? To make me so obsessed with him that I will never get laid again in my life, and all because Connor asked Knox to make sure of it?

My older brother is a dick.

If what Knox says is true and he did have a crush on me too, why or how did he reject me in that elevator? If he really was as drunk as I was, I would assume no wouldn't have been an option. So was he faking how wasted he was to make it seem like he wasn't there to cockblock me and stop me from making poor decisions?

But again, he kissed me. While we were both sober. What was that about, and what game are Knox and Connor playing at?

"Oh no. I just got Connor and Knox killed, didn't I?" Lachie seems genuinely worried for all of 0.2 seconds. Then, he smirks.

Shit stirrer.

The thing is though, he's done a good job of it because when I said I hated Knox before, it was because he gave me hope when I was about ready to give up on him. Now?

Now, I just fucking hate him.

When I was first drafted to Colorado, Connor was living in a block of town houses where a lot of NHL players started out near Cherry Hills. His neighbor, Lyons, got traded during preseason, so that meant this place was available and not advertised yet. I snatched it up as quickly as I could. Mom and Dad live south of Colorado Springs, so being closer to the practice rink and the arena is useful, and living close to Connor made the parentals happy.

But as I walk into my place and find him and Knox on the couch watching TV, I have the urge to go to my bedroom, pack, and get out of here.

"Please, make yourselves at home," I grumble.

"My place didn't have any food, and you always have snacks," Connor says.

Note to self: keep cupboard empty of food.

This isn't the first time this has happened, and of course, I used to love it because it meant I'd get to see Knox, but they chose the wrong time to invade my space.

I've always hated how protective Connor has been of me, but I've always put it down to him having to practically raise Lachie and me. Mom and Dad worked so hard to get us where we are, and once Connor's career took off and he wiped all their debt, they stepped up to suddenly being parents. But it's like Con is physically incapable of stepping back now.

I have three overbearing parents, and it's stifling.

I'm twenty-three, almost twenty-four. I think I'm old enough to get some freedom. But no, Connor won't allow even a smidgen of it, and Knox goes along for the ride.

"How was your flight?" Connor asks.

My gaze goes to Knox, who's turned his head toward me, his face emotionless and stoic.

"Insightful," I mumble. "I'm going to unpack."

Knox watches me go, but Connor turns back to the TV.

When I get to my room, I get as far as dumping my suitcase on my mattress before I sink down onto the ground with my back against my bed.

What was kissing me supposed to achieve other than showing me what I've been missing?

I already knew what I was missing, and I wish I could say his kiss didn't live up to the hype, but it exceeded all expectations.

I feel … manipulated. He used my old crush to keep me on the hook. Not only that, but he did it for Connor. My brother should live his own life and leave me out of it.

And Knox … Well, I wish he'd forget that I exist. Actually, if I'm wishing for things I wish this prepubescent hold he has over me would go away.

Part of me wonders if that whole having a crush on me too thing was bullshit, something to make me feel better about my drunken ramble.

Maybe he's a narcissist and likes the attention.

Either way, I want out of here. Not only this town house but out of Colorado.

Considering I'm one of Colorado's best players and I took them to the conference finals this past season, I don't have high hopes of asking for a trade, but maybe if I play badly enough during training camp and preseason, they might trade me before my reputation tanks, and then I could make a miraculous full recovery from my slump.

It's only then I realize I'm contemplating toying with my career just to get a break from my brother and his best friend.

If it wasn't evident before, it is now: Knox isn't good for me.

The sooner I can get that through my head, the sooner I'll be able to move on.