Page 85 of Hockey Boy
“Wait, you’re brothers?” Xander asks, pointing between Aiden and Brooks.
“They’re practically twins,” Sara says, frowning at the guy. Her tone is laced with an irritation she rarely exudes. Clearly, she doesn’t like him.
“No, we’re really not,” Brooks says.
“I’m definitely better looking.” Aiden puffs out his chest and grins in a way that makes his dimple pop.
While they have similar features, Brooks has inches on his brother, along with pounds of muscle. He’s practically a giant. And his hair is much longer. Aiden is tall and muscular. His curly hair is well-trimmed yet long enough for me to tug and run my hands through. As I survey them, I suppose they do look a lot alike, but Aiden is always so smiley in comparison to his stoic brother.
“And you’re dating best friends?” the guy asks, flattening his palms on the quartz top of the island.
“Wild, right?” Sara replies. “Gavin is one of their older brothers, and Millie is a close friend too. These two, though, were high school sweethearts.” She sighs, hearts dancing in her eyes. “Aiden was actually engaged to someone else, and then he saw his one true love again?—”
My stomach twists as she embellishes our story. “That’s not exactly howit went.”
Aiden pulls me against his chest. “It was, actually. When I discovered Lennox was our wedding planner, I dumped my fiancée on the spot. A week later, I asked this one to be mine again.”
Despite the decade apart, I know Aiden better than I know anyone else. I know when he’s lying. His genuine smile turns stiff, brittle, and his voice takes on a more authoritative tone—he turns into Aiden Langfield, star center of the Boston Bolts, the persona he and his PR team have spent years perfecting.
Right now, though, his smile is that dopey one I’ve been seeing more and more of. His voice is warm, and his eyes are gooey, like a chocolate sundae, as he gazes at me.
My heart pangs. Because suddenly, I’m wondering how close he is to speaking the truth.
Sara rubs her hands together, drawing our attention again. “Since we all agree that when asking about Lennox’s boyfriend, I’m allowed to ask about his bedazzled peen?—”
“We don’t agree,” Brooks mutters.
Sara ignores him, instead zeroing in on me. “Did you get the scoop on what Aiden’s truth was? What he wouldn’t admit that led to him being forced to Lisa Frank his peen?”
Ava’s face contorts in confusion. “Lisa Frank?”
“Ya know, because it’s colorful,” Sara explains, like this conversation isn’t the least bit bizarre.
“Jesus Christ,” Aiden mutters, covering his mouth and eyeing his brother. “Do you tell her everything?”
Brooks chuckles. “Aiden wanted to get pierced because War and I had already gotten ourselves roped into it. War asked him an easy question, and Aiden chose not to answer because he wanted to be like us.”
Aiden is vibrating beside me. “That’s not what happened.”
Bothered by the uneasiness in his tone, I study him. His brow is furrowed and he wears a frown that looks foreign on his face. “Then what did happen?”
War rolls his eyes. “All I asked was why he hated shamrocks.”
A lead ball settles in my throat. I can’t speak. I can’t look at Aiden, even as the heat of embarrassment, humiliation, and maybe anger radiates off him.
“It’s weird, right?” War goes on, absolutely clueless to the turmoil rolling through Aiden. “The man nicknamed the Leprechaun getting quiet every time a fan gives him a shamrock as a gift. Almost as dumb as his fear of bunnies.”
“It’s their eyes,” Aiden grits out, his body rigid.
Though my heart is pounding loud in my ears, I school my expression and shrug. “I had a bunny when we were growing up. It bit him. Let the kid live.”
I grip Aiden’s hand and squeeze. When he doesn’t immediately squeeze back, my heart sinks. I need to get the both of us out of this conversation stat, then figure out how to make him smile the way he was only a few minutes ago.
That’s only a Band-Aid, though. To the outside world, we look perfect. The second chance everyone thinks we deserve. But the truth is, if this were a real relationship, we’d have to have some serious conversations before we even had a shot at forever.
Is that even what I want?
Divine intervention does its thing in the form of a phone call.