I was in sweats, freshly showered from practice. The regular season would start soon, and I wanted to make sure that Nova and Huey were settled and happy. I tried to do what my mom used to tell me to do and think throughwhyI was feeling what I was feeling.
Why did I feel this anxious about something that really shouldn’t matter to me? I mean, I loved the guys—they were my best friends, and I’d do anything for them. I’d liked Alana too; she’d been damaged and broken, but she was sweet enough. She’d tried to come on to me a couple of times, but there was a code, you know? Don’t fuck your best friend’s sister.
I’d been with them when she died, felt their devastation at her loss, so maybe that was it. I was anxious to secure this last little piece of their family for them. It might be the thing they needed to start healing and shake off the heavy cloak of their grief.
However, as much as I tried to pretend that was it, I knew it had more to do with the girl herself. Nova. She tugged on something deep in my chest, and whatever it was, I couldn’t shake it. When she’d cried at the cafe, I’d wanted to pick her up, set her on my lap and promise I would make everything better.
Which I guess I kinda did. Minus the lap sitting.
There was something about the brokenness she tried so hard to hide that spoke to me, and it definitely didn’t hurt that she had a body that was perfect. Soft curves and a juicy little peach butt. Those big hazel eyes that were so damn captivating, it was hard to drag your eyes away.
Logic told me that lusting after her was a bad fucking idea. Like, really bad. We wanted her to be comfortable here, and sex made shit messy. So she’d stay in the spank bank, and outwardly I’d try and be her friend, patch up her broken bits.
My mother always said I was empathetic, even when I was a little kid. Always bringing home the kids who everyone else picked on, or abandoned kittens, or broken things I’d found on the side of the road so I could fix them and make them work again.
I was self-aware enough to know that it was this pattern that had drawn me to River in the first place, way back when we were both rookies for the Atlanta Lightning. He hid it well, but some wounds never healed, and even if they weren't visible, they were still there, festering below the surface. It was in the way he eyed every other man around him as a possible threat. The way he struggled against direct orders on the ice, even though he knew he couldn’t make it far without following the coach’s demands.
He’d isolated himself from the other players. But I was persistent as fuck, and I made him love me. It was basically my superpower. He eventually introduced me to both Devan and Alana, his family, and it was the beginning of a great friendship, until I was traded away to Minnesota.
Somehow, five years later, we were both back on the same team after a bunch of years being traded around, and we made a great fucking team out there. The friendship grew, and when I bought this big-ass damn house, I’d asked if he and Dev wanted to move in with me. I hated being alone.
We’d turned this place into a bachelor pad of epic proportions, and it had seen its fair share of crazy parties. But not anymore. Now we’d have a girl and a baby in the house. The whole dynamic was about to change.
“Will you quit the fucking pacing? You’re making me seasick,” River grumbled, but I’d known him long enough now to know that he was just as nervous as I was.
Dev had messaged about forty minutes ago to say they’d landed, and we’d sent a private car to collect them from the airport. As much as we wanted to collect them, apparently there was a lot of stuff and they’d need the space two hockey players took up.
“Sorry. Don’t know why I’m nervous.”
River narrowed his eyes. “I feel like this goes without saying, Rig, but she’s off limits. You know that, right? This is too important to fuck up because you can’t keep it in your damn pants.”
I glared at him. “I’m not the one that’s going to fuck this up, you grumpy bastard. No one wants to live in a home where they have to avoid the troll under the bridge every day to get a coffee.” I stood in front of where he was perched stiffly on a recliner. I stared down at my best friend, the man I loved like a brother. “If you hold her at arm’s length, she’s never going to feel comfortable and she’s never going to stay. I know it’s hard opening yourself up to the possibility of being hurt, but you gotta take the risk, man. It’ll be worth it.” He punched me in the thigh muscle, corking it, and I grunted out a pained breath. “Asshole!”
“Don’t psychoanalyze me, dickhead.”
I gave him the finger. “Truth hurts.”
“Not as much as your thigh.”
It did fucking hurt. I leaned into him, giving him several short sharp shots to the ribs with a laugh, trapping him against the back of the recliner.
But we were hockey players, and we knew how to brawl. He tipped us out of the recliner and landed on top of me, pulling my shirt up over my head to trap my arms, then gave me a fucking mean-ass nipple cripple.
I managed to get one arm and head out of my shirt and cracked him in the kidneys. “Fuck off, you giant hairy bastard. Leave my nipples alone!”
Someone cleared their throat. “And on that delightful note, welcome home.”
River and I both froze. As one, we looked toward the front door, at Dev standing there with two rucksacks and a diaper bag over his shoulder, and Nova with a baby in her arms.
Well. This was awkward.
I pushed River off, scrambling to my feet beside him. “We were just playing.”
Nova’s eyes bounced between us, her eyes sparkling. “That was obvious from the intense nipple twisty. No one tweaks nipples in a real fight.”
Her gaze dipped down to my nipples, and I realized I was still shirtless. Deciding it was probably best to desensitize her to it now—because who wanted to wear a shirt all the time?—I just shrugged. “Been in many fights?”
“Not lately,” she quipped back. Her eyes were laughing at me, even if she was clearly trying to keep a straight face. My nipple throbbed like a bitch, and I resisted the urge to rub it. “Have you?”