32. EASTON

THIRTY-TWO

EASTON

I storm through the back corridors of the practice rink after not nearly enough time on the ice, but I can't be out there, pretending like I'm not hurting, pretending I don't know that Knox is so close.

Why is he here, anyway? If being in a relationship with me is too much for his new job, shouldn't he not fraternize with any of the team? That includes my brother.

I throw my helmet across the locker room, and some poor equipment assistant flinches as it crashes into my cubby. It's only him and me in here, and he looks at me, wide-eyed, with his lips parted like he's about to apologize for something I did. "Sorry. I'm not mad at you."

He accepts my apology but is quick to leave the room.

"Hey, whoa, where's the fire?" The voice is light but smooth, and for the briefest of seconds, I have hope that Knox has followed me in here, but when I turn and come face-to-face with Parker Duchene, I realize my delusion is as strong as my feelings for Knox because the two sound nothing alike.

Parker glances between the empty doorway and me. "Are you scaring off equipment boys and attacking my facility for fun, or is something wrong?" Parker approaches, his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, his head low in sympathy.

"I'm good," I say.

"You don't sound or look good." Parker moves closer now. "You've got bags under your eyes, you're more aggressive on the ice, and I was watching you just now while you were skating. Are you and your brother still fighting, or is this a separate issue?"

Even though I want to break down and cry, I can't. Not in front of our new owner. I need to show a strong front, that I'm unflappable.

I force a smile. "Connor and I are great now. I guess I'm nervous about the season after setting the bar so high last year."

"It's still early," he says, and that's true. You can have a shit season opener and still go on to win the Cup. It's not until halfway that you start to get a picture of where the team stands, and even then, there's still time to turn it around.

"I know. But I'd like us to be more in sync."

"So it doesn't have anything to do with Connor?" Parker asks, and there's something in his tone that makes me think he wishes it did.

"Nothing to do with Connor."

He glances behind him, back at the entrance to the locker room. "You know, if I'd known you and Connor were really close, I probably would've granted your trade. I thought keeping you here would piss him off."

Uh, what? "It was me who wanted the trade because … it doesn't matter why. Connor wanted me to stay."

"Definitely would've been helpful to know sooner."

I frown. "What's the deal with you and my brother? Why do you want to piss him off? I thought you didn't remember him from high school?"

"Do you remember me from high school?" Parker asks and takes another step closer .

"Sort of?"

"Let me guess. You remember me as Douche."

"Umm, yeah."

"Want to know which funny guy came up with that name? The name that followed me all the way through college, thanks to some kids going to the same college I did?"

I take a step back, but he keeps moving closer. "It wouldn't have been Connor," I say, but there's absolutely no confidence behind it.

"Wouldn't it? Are you sure about that? Because I remember the exact moment it happened, and you were there."

"W-what?"

Parker huffs. "You don't remember it. Figures. The one guy who paid attention to me when I was new, even though he was in a younger grade, doesn't even remember being nice to me."

I'm almost backed up against my cubby now, and while I'm uncomfortable, I don't feel threatened or scared. More like I want to offer some kind of support, but he's my team's owner, and I have no clue what he's talking about.

"I-I was nice to you?"

Parker nods. "It was only my second day there, and I was lost. I showed you my schedule, and you gave me directions and even tips on some of the teachers I had. Like telling me that if I went into Mrs. Garcia's Spanish class and only spoke Spanish the whole time—even if it was wrong—that she'd give me extra marks for trying without relying on English."

"Look, I'm glad I wasn't a jerk to you back then, but I'm failing to see what this has to do with?—"

"What the fuck is going on?" My brother's booming voice echoes around the locker room, and I jump.

I'm so on edge, and Parker's right when he says I have bags under my eyes. I'm not sleeping, I'm living on coffee, and that apparently makes you jittery. Who knew ?

"Right on cue." Parker cocks his head at me. "Still no memory?"

Connor is on Parker a second later, yanking him away from me and pinning him on the nearest wall with his arm at his throat.

That's when it comes rushing back to me. I was talking to Parker and giving directions, though to me, he's still some faceless guy, and Connor caught us, and out came protective big bro. I don't know whether he thought Parker was bugging me or if he had an inclination I was gay and wanted to save my reputation so I could become a professional hockey player or what, but I can see it clear as day. Connor pinned him, just like he is now. He grabbed Parker's schedule, saw his name, and because a crowd was building at his outburst, everyone heard it when he called him Parker Douche and threatened to hurt him if he came near me again.

"I told you in high school to stay away from my little brother," he growls.

"Connor, what are you doing?" I yell. I try to pull his arm away from Parker, but he doesn't budge.

Strong fucker.

"I see nothing's changed since high school." Parker has an evil glint in his eye.

"Connor," I yell again. "You're kissing your entire career goodbye. He owns your ass."

"You're a taken man, and he should back off. Why was he cornering one of his players in the locker room anyway?" Connor's speaking to me but not taking his gaze off of Parker.

"For fuck's sake." I use all my strength to pull Connor off our team's owner. What in the hell is he thinking? "You're doing it again. Back off, stop being an overprotective shithead, and you're wrong. I'm not a taken man because Knox broke up with me. If I want to go out with Parker, I can. I mean, I don't want to—" I turn to Parker. "No offense."

He puts up his hands. "None taken. "

I go back to yelling at my brother, still holding him back so he can't lunge at Parker again. "But if I wanted to, I fucking could because your best friend was the one who let me go. Not the other way around."

"Wait." Parker steps in. "You were dating Knox Addison? The ref?"

"Yes," I grumble. "And he broke up with me because he got a job reffing for the NHLOA and didn't want anything to screw that up."

Parker rubs the back of his neck. "Well, shit. That mighta been my fault. Knox was the only other person to be nice to me at that school. I heard he wanted to be a ref and that he was working in the PWHL, so I put his name forward for a position."

I'm tempted to release Connor so he can go back to threatening Parker, but I'm a bigger person than that. Apparently. Man, it sucks being a good person sometimes.

"What are you even doing here, Douche?" Connor asks.

Parker narrows his eyes. "Real mature."

I turn my glare on him. "I could be wrong, but it sounds a hell of a lot like you bought this team just so you can mess with Connor over some stupid nickname you were given when you were both young, dumb teenagers. If anyone's being immature here, it's you." My brain snaps into focus at who exactly I'm speaking with, and my mouth feels the need to add, "Uh, sir."

"I'm not here to mess with Connor," Parker says. "I'm here to make his life a living hell. I have years of torment to repay." Parker straightens his suit jacket and walks out of the locker room.

Connor and I look at each other, and in unison, we say, "We're fucked."

"And he actually said that?" Knox asks from his position on his and Con's couch. "He said he was going to make Connor's life a living hell?"

It hurts to see Knox, to be in the same room as him, but I need to be here for Connor. He's nonstop freaking out about being let go, put on waivers … Hell, the story of him attacking the team's owner will be enough to ruin his career.

I can't make eye contact with Knox though. Even as I say, "He has some fucked-up vendetta against Connor because he swears Connor was the first person to call him Douche, and the name stuck. So I guess he blames Connor for him being unpopular and nerdy. Like his name was the only reason people thought that."

"I thought he was hassling you," Connor says. He's used that excuse about twenty times since everything went down in the locker room.

Knox had left when Connor came to find me, so he missed the drama, but I wonder if the rest of the team who were there know of it yet.

Did Parker go and tell Coach? Our GM?

Should we be expecting phone calls soon to say my trade is back on and Connor's going to be forced into some league-managed program for anger management?

"You think everyone is hassling me, and this is exactly why I have issues with you being so close all the time." I don't know why my mouth decides now is a good time to rehash old issues, but it doesn't stop. "We practically live together, we work together, we travel together, and we even have holidays together. Why are you so adamant on getting in my way?"

"Are you saying you would've hooked up with Parker had I not pulled him off you?" Connor bites back.

Knox stands. "What? Parker was hitting on you?"

"No," I yell at the same time Connor says, "Yes."

"You should've killed him," Knox says to Con.

I throw up my hands. "He was talking to me about high school. He was not hitting on me. He was trying to tell me why he hates Connor so much, and then Connor came bursting in there all high-and-mighty like he usually does, and now it's time he finally faces the consequences for being a dick. It's funny how you've always been so hell-bent on keeping mine and Lachie's images squeaky-clean, but it's okay for you to attack the team's owner? Really?" Then, with all the anger and rage in my heart, I turn to Knox. "And you. Do you really think you have a right to tell me who I can and can't date after you made it perfectly clear I wasn't going to be dating you anymore?"

Knox hangs his head.

"I can't with you two. Get your shit together." And because I'm so angry, I don't even get the chance to congratulate Knox on his first NHL game tomorrow before I'm out that door and pondering calling Parker to see if I can fix this situation. Or ask for that trade deal again.

How could Knox sit there and seem so unaffected? The only time he showed any emotion was when he thought someone else could want me.

So, he can't have me, but no one else can either?

Fuck that.

Fuck this.

Fuck everything.