The Langfield Brothers: Box Set

38. Sara

THIRTY-EIGHT

SARA

“You sure you’re up for this?”

I laugh at Brooks as he leads me toward Beckett’s house. “They’re kids. Why are you acting weird?”

Beckett and Liv have an ultrasound appointment, so we offered to watch the kids this afternoon. Later, we’re having dinner with his family.

As we hit the top step of the porch, the door swings open, and Deogi comes barreling out, heading right for me. Before I know what’s happening, Brooks’s massive arms circle my waist, and he pulls me to his chest.If not for his quick reflexes, the dog would have taken me down the steps with him.

“Ducking snakes! I told you no more pets, Huck!” Beckett yells from somewhere inside.

Deep laughter rings out from behind us.

Brooks turns at the sound, taking me with him since he’s yet to release me. Cortney is on the sidewalk, holding Deogi by the collar and laughing so hard his face is red.

Beckett’s shadow darkens the doorstep. “Man Bun,” he growls.

Cortney points at him and heaves in shuddering breaths. “That’s for turning my hair blue. Told you I’d get even.”

Beckett narrows his eyes at him, his jaw working. He’s silent for a second, but then his eyes dart our way, like he’s just now noticed us. With a heavy sigh, he steps back. “Don’t worry, the snake was fake. You can come in.”

Cortney follows us up the steps with the dog in tow. “Don’t tell me he pranked you too, Sara.”

I frown. “No, why?”

“Your hair’s blue.” He assesses me with a small frown, like he can’t quite figure me out.

Brooks laughs and pulls me into his side. “She’s my biggest fan.”

I smile and fiddle with the ends. “He’s right. This was intentional.”

Cortney nods, brows raised. “I like it. Shows a real dedication to the sport.”

Liv appears at the bottom of the stairs and smiles, one hand on her belly. “Thank you for watching the kids.” Then she turns to Cortney, and her expression morphs into a scowl. “I expect better from you. You’ve witnessed firsthand the awful sounds my husband makes when he screams.”

Brooks’s deep chuckle rumbles in his chest. “Damn, I’m sad we missed that.”

I fold my lips over to keep from laughing at my boss.

“Mom, are you ready for me?” Finn calls from somewhere upstairs.

Liv covers her mouth. “Whoops. Okay, guys,” she whispers, moving in closer. “Act impressed. Finn has a new outfit, and he’s been wearing it just about every day. I’m not sure it’s better than the tutus over the camo pants, but it’s easier to wash.” She backs up to the stairs again and hollers up to the second floor. “Yeah, bud. We’re ready.”

The steps creak as Finn makes his way down. When he finally comes into view, Brooks and Cortney both make sounds in their throats, then immediately cover them with coughs.

In jean from head to toe, Finn wears the hell out of denim. A gold chain hangs around his neck, and he’s rocking a pair of blue aviators.

Brooks is the first to recover from his coughing fit. “A denim suit. Looking good.”

When Finn hits the bottom step, he leans back against the banister, folds his arms across his chest, and gives us what can only be described as a model pose, all serious face and chiseled jaw. For a six-year-old, it is impressive.

“I can have my people talk to your people. I’m sure they make it in your size.”

Liv snorts. “Your people?”

Cortney throws a thumb over his shoulder. “I gotta get back home. Looking good, Finn.”

“Thanks, Man Bun.”

Once Beckett and Liv leave, Brooks and I load up the kids and take them to the arena, where Aiden and Gavin are already waiting for us. I’m camped out on the team bench, and all three men are skating in circles with Finn, Winnie, and Addie.

Finn begged Brooks to wear a jean jacket so they could match. Brooks tried not to look too relieved when he explained to his nephew that he didn’t own one. Somehow Gavin caught wind of the conversation, and when we showed up at the arena, there was a brand-new denim jacket in Brooks’s size waiting for him.

I try not to shake with laughter while I record a video of Brooks and Finn skating around the rink in their matching outfits. This is so going on the Bolts’ Instagram feed today.

I’ve just tapped the circle at the bottom of the screen to end the recording when an incoming FaceTime notification pops up.

I immediately tap Accept when my brother’s name flashes on the screen. “Hey, bud!”

Ethan’s return greeting is a peel of laughter. “Holy crap. What happened to your hair?”

With my free hand, I sweep the end of my ponytail, making it swish. “Like it?”

“It’s blue,” he says, pointing out the obvious.

“Yup! Bolts blue.”

Ethan shakes his head and grins. “That’s something. What are you up to?”

I tap the screen and flip the camera so he can see the guys. The instant I do it, I’m hit with a wave of guilt.

Brooks is hanging with his brothers and nieces and nephews on the ice. It’s a simple activity, but it’s something my brother may never get to experience, despite how much he’d love it.

But my brother hates being pitied, so I raise my voice, maybe a bit too loud, to get their attention. “Say hi to my brother!”

Aiden and Gavin wave, as do the kids, but Brooks practically ices me when he comes barreling in my direction and then speeds to a stop.

With far more excitement than is appropriate for the situation, he shouts, “Hi! I’m Brooks.”

My brother maintains his cool demeanor. It’s a feat, considering this man is his favorite player. “Uh, hi.”

Brooks clears his throat and studies me, his lip caught between his teeth. Then he looks back at the screen. Is he… nervous? He runs his hands through his hair, inadvertently messing up his perfectly done low bun. “I’m your sister’s—uh…” He blinks at me, all awkward and adorable.

I cough out a laugh and tap my phone’s screen so I appear on camera again. Then I wave Brooks over. “This is Brooks, my boyfriend.”

My brother’s eyes double. “Brooks Langfield is your boyfriend ?”

The shyness seems to slowly drip off Brooks as he realizes my brother knows who he is. When he sidles up next to me, he stands a bit taller and wraps his arms around my shoulders. “That I am. I know hockey isn’t your favorite, but if you wanted to come to the game when we’re in town, I’d be happy to have tickets put aside for you. I’d love to meet you and your mom.”

Ethan’s jaw unhinges. “Uh…not my favorite sport?”

“I…um…” I sigh and try not to let the defeat I feel show. “I’m sure they’d love that.”

“Yeah, we would,” Ethan grins. “Now I get the hair.”

Brooks runs his fingers through it and gives the ends a tug. “It’s cute, right?”

“Yeah. I’m just surprised you did it now. Isn’t your appointment tomorrow?”

“Appointment?” Brooks tips his head to one side and squints at my brother.

My stomach plummets at the reminder. “Oh shoot.”

More like oh shit .

Shit, shit, shit.

Ethan’s face falls, probably in response to the blatant despair written all over mine. I’m supposed to have my hair cut to donate to an organization that makes wigs for children. Yet I went and dyed it blue. I’ve been growing it out for a solid year. God, my stupid, immature knee-jerk reaction to pissing Seb off…

“Maybe someone wants blue hair?” Ethan offers.He’s sweet to try to make me feel better.

“Yeah, maybe,” I mutter, dropping my chin and avoiding Brooks’s gaze. “Can I call you tomorrow, bud? We’re babysitting right now.”

Ethan nods. “Sure. It was nice meeting you, Brooks.”

Beside me, Brooks smiles and runs his hand through my hair again. “You too. Looking forward to meeting you in person.”

I hang up and keep my head down while I pocket my phone, but I can feel his eyes on me.

“Hey.” He gently grasps my chin. “What was your brother talking about? What appointment?”

Fighting back tears, I let out a frustrated growl. I’m so angry with myself. And disappointed that I let my vindictive side get the best of me. I dyed my hair blue to piss off Seb without even a thought about what really matters. “I was supposed to donate my hair to charity tomorrow but now…” I tug at my blue hair, and a pang echoes in my chest where my heart should be.

God, how could I be so dense? So selfish? I’ve been growing it for over a year…

“Is mine long enough?” Brooks steps in front of me, his expression serious and so sincere.

I startle back a step. “What?”

He tugs on the tie holding it back and combs through it with his fingers, almost like he’s showing it off. “Will mine work?”

“You’d cut your hair?”

He lifts one shoulder in an easy shrug. “Sure.”

“But you love your hair,” I argue. “Everyone loves your hair. It’s, like, you .”

“Is it important to you?”He ducks his chin and scans my face.

“Your hair?”

With a sigh, he shakes his head, no doubt exasperated with me. “No, the donation. It seems like it’s important to you.”

Still protective of my reasoning, I school my expression. “Yes, but?—”

He brings his forefinger to the underside of my jaw, forcing my mouth closed. “If it’s important to you, then it’s important to me.”

Is he kidding me? I take him in, noting the sincerity in his expression and the tender care in his green eyes. He can’t be real. How does a man like him exist? And how do I keep him?

“Are you, uh…” I stutter. “Are you saving yourself for, like, a special moment or night or something?” My heart pounds in my chest and my fingers itch to touch him.

Brow furrowed, he considers me. “What? No, all I need is you. Why?”

“Because when we get home, I’m really going to need to fuck you.”

He laughs in response to my statement, but I’m not kidding. He’s willing to cut his hair for me. Just because. He swooped in as my fake boyfriend that first night . Just because .

The man is too good. I’m so fucking turned on I can barely hold back from jumping him right now.

“Brooks, I’m serious. I’ve never needed someone the way I need you.”

He leans in close and wraps his fingers around my neck loosely, holding me in place. “That, Sar. That’s what I’ve been saving myself for . I’ve been waiting to find the woman who needs me as much as I need her.”

I take a moment to admire him, to study every line of his face. And I know now, without a doubt, that I need him far more than he needs me. It’s bone deep and dangerous. Carved into my very being. But I want it. I want him.

“Good, you’ve found her.”