30. Keir

"You have got to be shitting me!" I roar and throw my phone across the living area of the apartment, where it smacks into the wall, cracking the screen and then slumping to the floor, hitting it with a thud that echoes in the stunned silence as Lach gives me a raised eyebrow.

"What's up there, pal? You lose at Candy Crush?"

"Fuck you," I growl. "Check out social media, any one of them, take your fucking pick, under Taran Fraser."

I wait as he narrows his eyes and pulls out his phone, scrolling through whatever feed he's decided on. I watch the colour of his face change from confusion to disbelief and then to a kind of fucked off annoyance which is precisely where I'm at right now, and that has me wanting to punch something. Preferably Taran Fraser's smug face.

"That fucking dick," he hisses as he no doubt is glaring at a video of him and Emma kissing in Metros not that long ago. "I'm going to fucking pull his nuts off and shove them down his throat!"

"Right?" I snap, getting on board with the violence.

"Every time!" Lachlan yells. "Every fucking time he wants what I have."

I pause in my rage and give him an eye roll. "Okay, slow down for one hot minute, Captain God Complex. No one knows about you and Emma except the three of us. And probably Anna. No one except you knows how I feel about her."

"Are you defending this fuckface?" he roars at me.

"No, just pointing out that this isn't necessarily about you, but he saw an opportunity to get with the rival team's owner and took it. She obviously fell for his dumbass charms." I scrub a hand down my face, feeling the rough stubble and wishing I could wash away the tight knot of jealousy coiled in my gut as well.

Lachlan's pacing now, all pent-up energy with nowhere to go. His fists clench and unclench like he's imagining they're around Fraser's neck. "What in the fuck is actually happening here?" he asks incredulously.

"She has decided not to date either of us because she is the Warriors owner and reckons the Arrows players are fair game," I growl, although I'm not pissed with Emma. I'm pissed with Fraser. I'm pissed with myself for not going to play for the Arrows instead of the Warriors. If I'd known it would come to this, the decision would've been instant.

"No!" Lachlan states and marches off to his room. "We are going down to Metros right now!" His voice drifts down the hallway.

"To do what exactly?"

"To tell Emma what a douche canoe Taran Fraser is and that she should be dating us."

"Us?"

"Yeah, fucking us. I said we should both go for her. Who gives a flying crap? We both want her, so fucking what? It's nobody's fucking business but ours!"

His voice is getting louder and louder with each passing second while I'm left standing there, torn between wanting to knock some sense into Emma, wanting to knock Fraser's head off, or just getting pissed at the nearest pub. But Lachlan's words echo in my mind, jumbling with images of Emma's fiery hair and that smile that does things to me and always has.

"Fuck it," I mutter to myself, grabbing my broken phone and keys. If there's even a sliver of a chance that Emma might forget about her rules and be with us instead, then we've got to take it. Sure, maybe it's not the most conventional approach to romance – two blokes showing up and declaring their intentions like we're in some kind of bloody period drama – but fuck it. Like Lach says, who gives a crap?

Lach joins me as I head out the door, and we march the short distance to the Metros, bursting into the place like two bulls in a China shop—not exactly the impressions we should be making right now.

Glancing around, we see that Emma and Taran have left already. My heart is pounding against my ribs like it's trying to escape, and Lachlan looks like he's about to breathe fire.

I spot Gemma, the bartender who always has a soft spot for gossip and catch her eye. She's got the tea, and she can't wait to spill it.

"Where'd they go?" Lachlan demands without preamble. It's not hard to guess who he's talking about.

Gemma tilts her head, obviously relishing the drama. "Left about twenty minutes ago. Seemed in a hurry to continue their conversation elsewhere."

I grind my teeth together. "Any ideas?"

She shakes her head, her curls bouncing around her face. "Not a clue. I'm not their fucking keeper," she snorts.

We spin around on our heels and storm out of Metros like we've just been ejected from the penalty box. "His place?"

"Do you even know where that is?" I bark.

"Somewhere around here," Lach gestures vaguely around.

"We can't just barge in on them," I caution Lachlan as we trudge down the street in the direction of ‘somewhere'.

"Why the hell not?" he retorts.

"Because it's psychotic," I snap back. "We show up there, and what? Demand she comes home with us instead?"

Lachlan pauses mid-stride, mulling it over. A rare moment of doubt flashes across his face before his face hardens. "Why not? We had her first."

"Fucking hell," I grumble. "This is ridiculous."

"So, you just want her to jump on his cock and bounce up and down while she forgets all about you?" he growls.

"Jesus!" I snap. "The mental image is too much to bear." I press my fingers over my eyes, and I breathe in deeply before letting it out slowly. "Look, we are jumping to conclusions. She's not going to sleep with him on their first date."

I realise my mistake the second the words are out of my mouth.

Lachlan grimaces at me. "No? What do you think we did? Had a quick snog and called it a day?"

I feel sick at the memory. "Right, bad example," I concede, shoving my hands deep into my pockets as we round the corner.

Lachlan huffs beside me, clearly not satisfied with my backtrack. "We need a bloody plan, Keir. What's yours?"

"I haven't got one," I admit, exasperated. "I just don't think storming Castle Fraser is going to win us any points."

He grunts in agreement, the fight visibly draining from him as we slow to a stop.

"Look," I say after a moment, "why don't we just go back home? Give her some time, let her see what a prat Fraser is on her own. If she's going to choose, she has to see us for who we really are—not some fucking knights in shining armour trying to save her from herself."

Lachlan eyes me sceptically but then nods. "Fine. But if she ends up in bed with him, I'm going to beat his fucking face into the ground next time I see him."

"Get in fucking line," I growl, hating this situation more than anything, ever.

"Do you think she really likes him?"

Lachlan's question catches me off guard. The anger has turned to fear that we are well and truly going to lose her without ever having the chance to have her.

"Fuck knows." I hope not because that will crush me.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Lachlan blurts out suddenly.

"Erm…"

"If she won't date us but she'll date Fraser, you know what we have to do."

"Move teams?" I ask because what else could be going through that head of his.

"What?" he asks, his mouth dropping open in shock. "No, you absolute pot plant. The opposite. We've got to prove we're better than him. That we're what she needs."

I rub my temples, the beginning of a headache forming with each ridiculous turn of this conversation. "And how do we do that, oh wise one?"

Lachlan grins, the kind of grin that usually means trouble on and off the ice. "We up our game. We show her how much this team means to us. How much she means to us."

I nod because that is something I can get on board with. Emma won't respond well to us going all caveman on her and Taran. She needs to see that we aren't giving up. Not for anything.