18. EASTON

EIGHTEEN

EASTON

Waking up next to Knox, I'm trying to act cool, but it's really hard when I'm buzzing out of my skin.

I still don't really know what this is, but there's a promise of more to come, and after last night, I need more. I used to think if Knox gave me one night, that would be enough. I'm so glad we didn't give in to our feelings earlier when we wouldn't have been able to have anything real between us.

For all my talk of Connor being too overbearing, I wouldn't have wanted to keep something like this from him.

I stare at Knox's face while he sleeps, totally being a creep, I know, but his features are soft, his hair is a mess, and I'm mesmerized by the teeny tiny freckles across his nose.

The sound of a soft knock echoes throughout the town house, and I lift my head, unsure if that was from the front door or maybe someone at the neighbor's place.

This time, when it happens again, it's definitely coming from my front door.

I jump out of bed, curious about who it could be. Connor would let himself in. I find my sweats and quickly throw them on along with a T-shirt and answer .

Connor's there, three coffees in a tray from the nearby cafe, with a takeout bag in the middle.

"What's going on?" I ask.

"I brought coffee and pastries. Just don't tell Coach this afternoon at practice."

"I can see that, but why did you knock?" I step aside to let him in.

"Apparently, I haven't been good at respecting boundaries, and … I'm trying."

I narrow my gaze. "Who are you, and where is the real Connor Kikishkin?"

"Well, it was partially that and also not wanting to walk in to hear sex noises or see my best friend naked and fucking my little brother." He puts the takeout on the counter, and he seems casual and totally okay with this, but I can't tell if it's a front or genuine.

"This is …" I glance toward my bedroom and then back to Connor. "Weird."

He cocks his head. "Why?"

Knox appears, shirtless, only in his underwear, and he runs his hand over his hair. "Because Easton doesn't believe you could be okay with this, so he's waiting for you to explode." He kisses the top of my head on his way past me, takes a coffee out of the tray, and sips it like this is an everyday occurrence and he's not in any danger of being stabbed by my brother.

Knox watches Connor over the top of his cup, and my focus is flitting between the two of them, waiting for one of them to break first.

Connor looks like he's about to break a tooth from gritting his teeth so hard, but then he forces a smile and says, "Of course I'm okay with this."

"Well, that sounds convincing," I say dryly.

"Okay, I'm not fucking okay with this, but I know I have to be. And I will be. "

"Until then, you don't have to do this." I gesture to the peace offering. "Pretend like you're okay when you're not."

"I figured if we try to keep things as normal as possible, it will be easier to adjust to seeing …" He waves at Knox. "That."

"Dude, we live together. You've seen me in my underwear countless times."

"Yes, but you kissing Easton while only in underwear is … It's like I'm watching incest." Connor shudders.

I burst out laughing. "Wait. Your issue with us hooking up isn't that Knox is a player and a flirt and he'll break my wittle heart but that you see us both as brothers, so it's as disgusting as incest?"

"Yeah. Obviously, I don't want to see either of you hurt, and when—sorry, if—this goes to shit, then whose side am I supposed to take? Knox won't be coming around anymore because he won't want to run into you, and you … you've never had a boyfriend. What do you know about relationships? And?—"

"Whoa, Con. Slow your roll," I say. "We're not jumping into this without considering all of that first, and this isn't a relationship. It's …" How do I explain it?

I've been practically in love with this man since I was twelve, so of course I want to go all in with him, but that's not the reality of changing our dynamics.

"It's seeing what could come of it," Knox finishes for me. "We might start seeing each other, and then Easton gets traded. Considering I'm a server for six months of the year and a poorly paid ref for the other six, I might fall back on my degree and try to get a job at a tech firm, which could have me in any big city."

I turn to him. "You're thinking of doing that?"

"Not at the moment, but it's crossed my mind. The more I work in the service industry, the more I'm beginning to hate people. And I don't want to hate people. I love people. But my point is anything could prevent us from going further. Distance, our jobs, or any other little thing. Maybe his snoring."

"I do not snore."

"You know, when I've been in Con's and my place, trying to sleep, and I heard what I thought was a bear rustling through the bins and growling, I didn't realize it was you. Now I know."

I fold my arms. "Okay, Con. It's okay. We can hate Knox now."

"See?" Knox says. "Your snoring is already tearing us apart."

Connor's smile is real this time. "Actually, I could get used to this. East being mad at you instead of me." He takes a coffee. "Please, continue."

That's what we need to all kind of relax and take this one step at a time. Connor might not be completely okay with us being together, but it's not because of any sense of betrayal. It's because it's weird for him to see us together.

I can understand that, but I hope he gets used to it soon because my time in Denver could be cut short at any moment.

The thought of telling management that I've changed my mind flits through my thoughts, but at the same time, like Knox and I agreed last night, I need more independence than this.

Wherever I end up, my only hope is it's close to where Knox will be.

The second Connor and I walk into the practice facilities, we're approached by the PR team.

"Three point two seconds has to be some kind of record to be sent for PR training," I say to Connor.

He smirks. "I wouldn't know. I'm the good boy."

"Who got a major penalty last season for fighting? "

"That's hockey. It's part of the job."

"You beat the shit out of Cody Bilson. That's not the job."

"It's totally the job," he mutters.

Finally, the PR team steps in. William Moyer, our PR manager, and Craig Sharp, our press rep, look like we're a lost cause. Little do they know this is us actually getting along.

"Let me guess," Connor says. "We need to do a press conference about the scuffle on the ice yesterday."

"Press conference?" William scoffs. "We're not going to give you that kind of freedom. You're going to draft a press release. Together. Craig will oversee you until it's done."

"Uh, don't we have practice to get to?" I ask.

"Nope. You don't get to go out on the ice until management is satisfied you won't fight again in front of the press."

Fucking hell. More being treated like a child.

I really need off this team. "Can I ask something? If it had been any other teammates who got into a fight during training camp, would they have to go through this shi?—"

Reflexively, Connor covers my swear words. "Stuff. He means stuff."

I cock my eyebrow at him, and he slumps.

"He was going to say shit, and I shouldn't have butted in like that to save him from being disrespectful."

"Thank you." I turn back to the PR team. "But my question still stands."

They're silent for a moment too long before William says, "Hypotheticals are a waste of time. It's not two other players, it's you two. Now, follow us, please."

We walk behind them, being escorted to who knows where, and as we fall into step side by side, I speak low to my brother. "Way to say ‘We're milking this Kiki brother thing harder than we should.'"

Connor sighs. "They should though. Everyone loves the idea of brothers playing on the same team for whatever reason. "

"Just wait until this season when they'll be screaming for us to go head-to-head."

"So that's still happening, then?" Connor asks before we're deposited into a small conference room inside the offices of the facilities.

I don't get a chance to answer him.

"Okay, we want statements of heartfelt remorse for our actions, lots of brotherly love, and a scapegoat for why you got in a fight."

I groan. "I let a rookie score while on a penalty kill. What's so wrong with using that?"

"Because if you get so upset over something as small as that, I have to question how you don't spend every game in the sin bin. Whatever it is, make it good. It doesn't even have to be true. Just relatable. Something that won't blow back on us, on the team, or on any of our public images."

He's starting to sound like Connor.

"We could tell them the truth," Connor says.

What in the ever-loving fuck? "No, we can't," I say.

"Why not?"

"Because … outing someone without them knowing it's going to happen or checking they're okay with it is not cool. Sure, Knox is out, but you know how private he is, and?—"

"It was a fight over a guy?" William asks.

Connor puts up his hand. "Whoa. No, it wasn't." He turns to me. "I wasn't talking about Knox. I was talking about how you feel like I'm overbearing and a terrible big brother and how you want to get away from me so badly you'd ask to be sent to a first-pick team when they're the worst in the league."

The room is silent, and my heart hurts because I don't want Connor to feel this way, damn it.

"Yeah, we can't say that," William says. "Try again."

"We're never getting to go to practice, are we?" I ask.

Connor hangs his head. "Nope."