8. EASTON

EIGHT

EASTON

I'm the first one in my suit for the red carpet, the first one out the door, and even though Connor, Lachie, and I are supposed to walk the gauntlet of media together, they're too slow. Oops, so sorry, bros. I need my time to shine in my spotlight. I'm the only queer one in the family, after all. According to the media, anyway.

Which Lachie has been whining about through the entire lead-up to this thing. He thinks this would be a perfect time to announce his queerness to the world, but Mom and Dad are probably still dying from the embarrassment of me coming out midseason by using Pride tape on my stick when it wasn't Pride night. They wanted something more dignified. Probably something like this.

Lachie's right that this would be the perfect place for him to put himself out there, but then I could see the media fallout of it too. With Connor being the only ally on the team, people would probably speculate about him as well.

Then Lachie and I would never hear the end of it.

Plus, Lachie's only twenty. He can't even legally drink yet. If I had to wait until twenty-three, then so does he. Then again, Lachie's the baby and always seems to get what he wants.

Fucking spoiled third children.

I arrive at the door to the red carpet, where one of the event runners is waiting. She has her hair in a tight bun with one of those headpieces on, attached to a radio. She looks up at me, then down at the run sheet.

"I'm a little early." I'm a little chickenshit, is what I am.

"You can't go until it's your turn," she says, but she sounds unsure of that.

I take my phone out of my pants pocket and check the time. Okay, this thing is supposed to have everyone here in three minutes. Can't I go even three minutes early? I want to be out there and not here inside the arena corridors where?—

Fuck. Knox is on his way with Connor.

"Can I please go out there first? I promise to walk real slow. My brothers can catch up."

The poor girl, who's probably early twenties and most likely isn't getting paid nearly enough money for this, looks like she doesn't know what to do.

"East," Connor yells.

I hang my head. "So close to escaping."

The girl glances between Connor and me. "Oh. Sorry."

"Not your fault." I should've tried an easier way to escape. Like, a sewer tunnel.

"Where'd you go?" Connor asks.

I gesture to where I'm standing. "Right here. I'm ready to get this red carpet over with. This is a charity game, isn't it? Shouldn't it be about hockey? We're literally walking out a side door, around a building, and in another door to make it look like we're arriving at the arena when we've been here forever." An eternity, really. Not at the arena, but right here. Standing in this spot. Refusing to look in Knox's direction.

I can't believe, even as drunk as I was, that I said everything I did two nights ago. It'd seemed like such a fun story, such a cute anecdote about my big, fat crush, and once my mouth started, it wouldn't stop.

I thought Knox working for the PWHL in Minnesota would have been good for me. It would give us space. But the women's season is so much shorter than ours, so I haven't had the time to get rid of my crush at all.

Also doesn't help Connor's always talking about him, messaging, FaceTiming him with me in the background.

I need room to move on, and it's like the universe won't give it to me. Then I remember it was my idea to invite Knox to ref this game, that I made a huge point of saying that there's no way in hell Knox and I could ever happen. Yet, he gets here, and I throw myself at his feet in my desperate need to prove he feels the same way about me when it's obvious he really, really doesn't.

So not only are my feelings for him juvenile, but I'm seriously worried he's going to slap me with some sort of order of protection.

My brother checks his phone. "Of course. You're early, and Lachie's late. Why am I not surprised?"

"You do know you don't have to keep track of either of us, right? You're not our babysitter. Lachie will be fine. In fact, why don't you let me go look for him? Rest up, big bro. I got this."

Yay for escaping having to look Knox in the?—

"I'll go with him. Just in case he tries to do a runner like Lachie has."

I whirl on Knox. "Nope. Nuh-huh. You're on best friend duty." I push him toward Connor.

Connor's gaze ping-pongs between us before he says to Knox, "Go with him."

Fucking hell. Unloosen the damn leash that's starting to feel like a noose, please.

I take off, hands in pockets, heading back for the locker room, and Knox's footsteps echo behind me .

We're both silent until we're far enough away that Connor won't be able to see or hear us anymore.

His warm hand grips my upper arm. "East."

I turn on him again. "We don't have to do this. Look, it was embarrassing, I'm never drinking again, and it didn't mean anything, okay?"

"Exactly, so why have you been ignoring me since?"

"Because I'm dramatic when I'm embarrassed."

He steps closer to me, and his lips twitch. "You don't need to be embarrassed." He sounds so genuine I almost believe him. "The thought of little Easton Kiki running around with a crush on me is the cutest thing I've ever heard."

I shove him, and he laughs as he stumbles back.

"Never. Drinking. Again."

"Until after the game?" he asks.

Probably. "Fine, I'll rephrase. I'm never getting that drunk again."

Knox's lips press together. "Glad we're on the same page. I thought for sure one of us was going to land ass over tit in the middle of the Strip, and there's no way in hell the other would've been able to carry us both in the state we were in."

It's really flattering to know that even in his drunken state, he was still able to reject me so easily. Makes me feel so great about myself.

I hate that I've wasted so much energy crushing on a man who will never like me back. "I kind of wish you did go ass over tit. Would've been hilarious. For me." The memory of it would probably also make me feel a hell of a lot better than I do now.

"You're also bitter when you're embarrassed."

When it comes to Knox, I'm starting to think I'm bitter always. It used to be because I was sure Connor was standing in our way. I could've sworn I'd seen Knox check me out, but if his rejection was anything to go by, I'm a delusional desperado .

I force a smile I don't feel. "We should go find Lachie before Connor has a coronary."

"I'm sure you don't actually need me to babysit you. I'll go check the locker room for you if you want to continue to look elsewhere." Knox continues in the direction of the locker rooms, proving that he can actually defy Connor's orders, which makes me feel even shittier because if he truly wanted me, something would've happened by now. How delusional have I been when it comes to Knox?

And as I watch him go, strawberry blond hair almost tamed and wide shoulders stretching out his suit jacket, I try to settle the pang in my gut and the ache over my heart. That's when Lachie and some random guy—another staffer for the charity event, by the look of his plain black clothes—stumble out of a janitor's closet or storage room nearby. Because of course. Why wouldn't my little brother have more game than me?

Lachie's suit is skewed, the other guy's pants are undone, and Lachie's wiping his mouth. "What was that all about? Did you and Knox hook up? Eww, wouldn't that be like kissing Connor?" He shudders.

I sigh. "Nothing happened. We had a weird drunken night where things got … uncomfortable." I turn to Lachie's hookup. "You can go now."

Lachie lifts a hand to his ear, using it like a pretend phone. "Call me."

I grab Lachie's wrist, wipe off the despair from my face, and pull him down the hall toward Connor. "You're so lucky it was me and not Connor standing outside that door."

"As if I'd be dumb enough to come out of there if you were Connor."

At least he hasn't said goodbye to all sense. Though, hooking up with anyone here is a risk he shouldn't be taking. I want to care, but I honestly don't.

Who in the fuck has the right to tell Lachie and me who we can and cannot hook up with? You know, other than the people we are, in fact, hooking up with.

Which is moot in my case because Knox doesn't want me. He'll never want me. We'll never happen.

I need to get that through my thick skull.