23. KNOX

TWENTY-THREE

KNOX

With it being summer, my work email is quiet enough that I only have to check it once a week. After clearing out the usual spam, there are some updates I glance over, from proposed rule changes within the PWHL to big moves in the general hockey space. I'm only vaguely registering what I'm reading when the front door opens, and two very loud men bang inside.

"Knox!" East shouts before stepping from the hall into the room. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but you have competition for my heart."

If that wasn't Easton's shit-stirring tone, I might be worried. I move my laptop onto the coffee table in front of me. "Who do I need to kill?"

"Parker Duchene," Connor grunts before dumping his gear bag at his bedroom door and then throwing himself dramatically into an armchair.

Easton looks like he's trying not to look amused but can't help it, while Connor glowers at us both.

"Am I supposed to know who that is?" I ask.

"He's the man you're going to fight for my honor," East replies .

"Sure. Uh-huh. That. But can I know why you're suddenly determined that I commit murder?"

"He put Connor in his place."

Well, that'll do it. Also, way to make me feel mildly shitty for still struggling with that. I turn to Con. "Do you want to tell the story, or should I let East make it up?"

"Parker." He stares at me like I should get it. "Parker Duchene . Douche . From high school?"

The name brings a skinny guy with shaggy, sort of oily hair to mind. He had psoriasis on his scalp, so he had to put medicated stuff in his hair, or his skin would peel, and then he got teased for having dandruff. There were many jokes of "Is it snowing?" as he'd walk past, and he always vaguely smelled like tar shampoo. Poor guy had it bad in high school. "No way, where did you see him?"

Easton looks like he's about to choke on the laugh he's holding in.

Connor mutters something through his teeth that I can't have heard right.

"You need to repeat that."

He shifts forward. "He bought the team. He's our new owner."

"Ohhh …" How in the hell did that happen?

"Now, tell him the good part," East says.

Con glowers at his brother, then turns back to me. "We went to say hey, he didn't remember me, and then he said I had to call him Mr. Duchene." Connor sneers. "He really is a douche."

"Okay, hotshot, not everyone knows who you are."

"Everyone in high school knew who we were. And he bought our team! If he knows the Colorado roster at all, he's heard of the Kiki brothers."

"Yeah, but maybe he doesn't know who the Kiki brothers are."

"He's a fan! "

I throw my hands up. "Well, I don't know. Did you tell him we went to high school together?"

"Oh, he knows."

"Does he?" I ask dryly.

Connor's really wound up about this. "He was putting me in my place. For …" His gaze flicks toward Easton and back to me again. "How the hockey team used to bully him."

I raise a hand. "I never once bullied him. I was self-conscious enough about my freckles to worry about anyone else. He helped tutor me one semester. He was cool. Quiet but cool."

"I never bullied him either!" Connor explodes.

The thing is, I believe him. Con was always one of those guys whose popularity was almost revered status. He was the hockey king at our high school, but outside of getting good grades and quick hookups on the weekend, hockey was literally the only thing he cared about. It was always on his mind—arguably, it was the only thing he ever gave thought to—so stooping to the level of bullying someone wouldn't have been on his radar. I'm surprised that he's the one who remembered Parker and not me, considering I did actually loosely know the guy.

"Well, either you did something to piss him off, or you're really not as big of a deal as you think you are," East points out. "So which is it? Are you an asshole or not memorable?"

"You're supposed to be on my side here," Connor grumbles.

"What do you mean side?" I ask. "He's your owner, he asked you to address him formally, but whatever. Who cares? I'm assuming it's the same for everyone."

"It is," East agrees.

"Then I'm not seeing the big deal. It's not like you'll ever have to deal with him anyway. Everyone knows owners are just there to flaunt how much money they have and rarely have any actual interest in getting involved. "

"True."

"And with that problem solved …" I stand to grab Easton around the waist and pull him down into my lap. "You could at least kiss me before you threaten to run off with a billionaire."

Easton lights up. "He's a billionaire? That changes things."

"Shut up." I'm rougher as I kiss him than I normally would be, holding the back of East's neck steady as I give him that bit of growly caveman that he wants from me.

A long groan interrupts our kiss. "It's weird. It's so weird."

"Then look away."

"It's my house."

Feeling mean, I lift an eyebrow East's way, then start to hum. It's choppy and off-tune but unmistakably "Firework" by Katy Perry. Easton muffles a laugh into my shoulder, but Connor only looks confused.

The notification for a new email pings on my laptop, and Easton turns to look. "What is that?"

"Probably junk." But I hover over the email instead of deleting it, the subject line catching my eye. "Hold on …"

Easton shifts off me, and I grab my laptop to read it properly. It takes two tries for the words to make sense in my mind, and even when they do, I'm sure I'm reading it wrong.

"Knox?" Connor shifts to sit on the other side of me. "What is it?"

I tilt the screen his way, and it only takes a second.

"Holy shit." He turns to me, mouth gaping, and I'm sure I look about the same. "This is it!"

"Fuck …"

"It's what?" East asks.

"I'm being offered a full-time AHL role this season."

There's a long pause, then— " What ?" East grabs my computer and reads the email too. "This is amazing."

"It is." It still hasn't sunk in. "They want a call with me this week."

"Are … are you going to take it?" Easton asks. "What ab out the PWHL? Will you still head back to Minnesota, or …"

"I don't know." My brain has that sluggish feeling of being slapped. "I guess it depends. What pay will they offer, will it be a linesman with a home arena or the main ref who needs to travel. And if I need to travel?—"

"Then you'll stay here," Connor cuts in. "You can stay full-time, I don't care. It's your home too."

"Thanks, man."

"Of course. And you know, AHL referees step up into the NHL all the time …"

I take a minute to run my hands through my hair and refocus myself. "I can't believe this."

"I can." Connor's earlier funk is gone. "You've worked for this. I knew you could do it, brother. I'm pumped. We need to celebrate."

"After I've spoken to them. I don't want to jinx this."

"Fine. But as soon as it's official, we are going out."

My smile is finally there when I turn to Easton, expecting him to be as excited as Connor, but his thinking face is on.

"You okay?" I ask, immediately worried.

"I'm good. I'm really fucking happy for you."

Connor snorts. "Might want to tell that to your face, then, little brother."

"Seriously." I take his hand. "What's wrong?"

"My name's out there for a trade. You have a new job offer that could land you who knows where." His pause falls between us. "What if we end up in totally different countries?"

"I hear Buffalo is close to the border."

We already knew he could be sent anywhere, and that was going to be hard enough on our relationship. With both of us subject to the hockey gods, this could get dicey, and how the hell do we survive never seeing each other when things are just starting out? It was already going to be hard enough with the travel .

Maybe … maybe the PWHL is where I need to stay? Keep alternating between there and whatever restaurant is hiring when I'm here. Keep living off my best friend.

But I'm tired.

This could be my answer, and sure, the AHL doesn't pay significantly different than the PWHL, but at least it's a living wage. At least I don't have to resort to my backup yet. This will take me one step closer to the big leagues. To that NHL ice that I always pictured myself on as a kid. Maybe I won't be playing, but this is the next best thing.

That future is actually within reach for the first time in my life.

But so is East.

A month ago, having either option available to me felt impossible, yet here I am, so close to having it all …

Terrified that it's going to be taken away from me in a heartbeat.