The Langfield Brothers: Box Set

5. Aiden

FIVE

AIDEN

Gavin: How’d wedding planning go?

Beckett: He probably burst into song in the event planner’s office. Did you jump up on the desk? What did you sing? Wait, don’t tell me. Britney Spears Toxic?

Brooks: Lol

Gavin: Aiden?

Beckett: We’re just teasing. Seriously, how did it go?

Brooks: Oh, shit. Guys. Sara just texted. Apparently, Lennox is Aiden’s wedding planner.

Beckett: No ducking way.

Gavin: I feel like this deserves a real fuck.

Beckett: I tried. Damn autocorrect doesn’t know it’s duck, not duck.

Beckett: Duck.

Even though I hate every one of them right now, I can’t help but snort at their antics. God, they were so right about Jill, and it pisses me off. They’ve always looked at me as the idiot little brother. Lots of eye rolls and scoffs. Silly Aiden, Goofball Aiden, Happy Aiden. They clearly don’t think much of my intelligence, and it’s obvious they think I have no real emotions. Most of the time, I let their comments slide. It’s better to just be Happy Aiden.

Easier.

People like Happy Aiden.

They don’t take him too seriously, so no one digs deep. I prefer it that way. If they uncovered even a layer or two, they’d discover how very depressed I’ve been on and off for years.

A man with everything he’s ever wanted. Who greatness comes easy to. The guy the world smiles and laughs at. If they’re going to laugh, I might as well laugh with them.

But right now, there’s no faking that I’m okay.

I am not even remotely upset about Jill. I suppose that’s not completely true. I am pissed that she almost got one over on me, but I’m not upset she’s gone. Even so, I don’t exactly want to go home. Her stuff is all over my place, and I don’t want to risk running into her if she’s there.

But I can’t crash with any of my brothers because then I’d have to admit that yes, they were right. Jill is toxic.

So instead, I go to the one place that always brings me peace. My personal sanctuary.

The rink.

A sense of calm washes over me the moment my skates hit the ice. From a young age, I’ve known two things with complete certainty: that I was destined to be a hockey player, and that Lennox Kennedy is the love of my life.

For ten years, I’ve focused on only one of those things. I pushed the other out of my mind completely. What’s the point of knowing something so definitively if it’s completely out of reach?

All along, I’ve understood that no woman would compare to her. That I would never feel as comfortable, as at home, as infatuated, or as cared for as I did when she was mine.

But I couldn’t have her, so all of those facts became irrelevant.

I may be the funny Langfield, and the world may assume that because of my humor, I’m not very bright, but I’m quite possibly the smartest, because I managed to successfully put her out of my head.

For years, I didn’t think about her. My brothers may think I pined for her, but unlike them, I have a healthy sense of self-preservation.

Beckett pined for his wife, Liv, for over ten years, even while she was married to another man. He walked around miserable, day in and day out, snapping at everyone in his proximity, all because he couldn’t put Liv out of his head.

Gavin—fuck, the guy fell for his best friend’s daughter and then stayed away from her for an entire year, even though he could think of nothing but her. Then the idiot almost lost her again.

And Brooks? Jesus. Anyone could see that Brooks and his fiancée, Sara, were meant to be, but he settled in the friend zone without a fight, then stared at her like she was a damn ice cream sundae on a hot day.

Me? Lennox Kennedy owned me. So the moment she said shamrock and ripped my heart out, I knew the only way I could move on was to forget she existed.

What I didn’t realize was that forgetting her meant I’d be giving up my heart. So I’ve been walking around with a hole where that organ used to be for the last decade. Day in and day out until she waved at me last season, and I slammed into the plexiglass. Flat on my back, I went, almost knocked out cold.

And since then? Fuck, since then, I can’t get her out of my goddamn mind.

She’s been my every thought for months. My heart pounds at the mere mention of her.

It was beyond idiotic to propose to Jill. Even if I hate her for what she did, I’m no better. I used her to fill a hole in my life, and if it hadn’t been her, it would have been another woman who didn’t deserve to be my second choice.

Because any life short of one spent with Lennox would be half a life.

Now that I’ve acknowledged the truth I’ve been running from, the real question is, what the hell am I going to do about it?

I press my skates deeper into the ice, forcing myself into suicides. This move is pure torture most of the time, but today, after just a few passes, I’m locked in completely on each movement. If not, I’ll be tempted to fly into the wall in order to force my mind to go blank. My lungs constrict, desperate for more oxygen. My legs burn with each stride, and my mind goes numb.

At the sound of my name, I’m pulled from my trance-like state. Sweat drips down my body despite the cold arena, and my chest aches as I come to a stop.

“Aiden.” Daniel Hall, my right winger, skates toward me. “Jesus, I said your name fifteen fucking times. Why the hell are you doing suicides on a Sunday?”

Flattening my palms against my knees, I drop my head and pant out a few ragged breaths. As I straighten, Hall tosses a water bottle at me.

“Here, you need that more than I do.”

I twist the cap and take a few seconds to breathe before guzzling it down.

He points to the boards, and with a nod, I follow him off the ice and onto the bench.

“I ended things with Jill.”

God, it feels so good to say it out loud. Like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders.

“Holy fuck.” Sliding his hand through his dark hair, he studies me, his lips tipped down in a concerned frown. “You okay?”

I allow myself to really sit with that question. For so long, when asked even the most surface-level questions about myself, my immediate response has been to joke around, to laugh, to smile, to hide the pain, the melancholy, that constantly plagues me. Bury the negativity. People ask because it’s polite, not because they actually want me to open up and say that no, I’m not feeling particularly great. Or that I woke up that morning and thought, why the hell am I here? What am I doing with my life? Do I even want to get out of bed?

I settle my elbows on my knees and survey the ice. More often than not, I am okay. But in this moment, I remind myself that it’s okay that right now I’m not.

“Ya know, I’m really not.”

I turn to Hall, not sure what to expect. He’s only twenty-four, and in general, he’s a happy guy. Fucks around a bit too much, but that’s what a lot of the rookies do. I don’t judge him for it. The only time he’s truly serious is when he’s on the ice. Though right now, his hazel eyes hold more understanding than I thought him capable of. Is it possible that beneath his playboy persona, there’s a layer of him I’ve yet to see? Yeah, I wouldn’t be surprised, knowing that so few have ever seen beneath the mask I wear.

He settles a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “Okay.”

Instantly, some of the tension eases from my body, and a relieved breath slips out of me. “Okay.”

“You want to talk about it?”

I roll my neck. “I only want to say it once. So call the guys. Let’s get this over with.”

Hall perks up. This is where he shines. Social situations. He pulls out his phone and gets to work summoning the guys who are still in Boston for the summer. There aren’t a ton of us. Most skip town as soon as the season is over and head back to their families, the small towns where they’re treated like heroes, their wives who miss the shit out of them while they’re playing hockey for ten months out of the year.

Brooks and I grew up here. Boston is our small town, and we are gods here. Hall too. He grew up nearby, in a small town in Rhode Island where his dad still lives with his new wife, Lake Paige. She’s one of the biggest pop stars of our generation, and though it sounds bizarre, she used to date Daniel’s brother.

I suppose it’s about as bizarre as showing up to a wedding planning appointment with my fiancée, only to discover the love of my life on the other side of the desk.

I cough out an uncomfortable laugh, garnering Daniel’s attention. He shows me War’s response. My left winger says he’ll meet us wherever we want.

Tyler Warren—also known as War—is an absolute beast on the ice and in person. Though he grew up in Canada, he moved to Boston when he was in high school and played hockey with Brooks there and in college. He was first drafted to another team, but after a couple of years, he made his way back to Boston. Pretty sure the man has more Boston swagger in his pinky than the rest of us have in every cell combined.

I give Daniel a nod. “Where we meeting?”

“The Pad?”

I shake my head. My family owns Boston sports, and with so many players under their care, it made sense to purchase an apartment building for the guys to reside in. Both Gavin and Brooks live there, but Jill wanted a penthouse. Since the penthouse unit at the Pad, as Hall and so many of the guys lovingly call it, is reserved for the coach—now Gavin—that wasn’t an option. Though my building is arguably nicer than the Pad, I would have killed to live with all the guys.

Normally, I’m more than happy to hang out there, but seeing as how Sara sublet her apartment to Lennox, it’s not a good idea.

“Ground Zero?”

With a nod, Daniel focuses on his phone again.

Ground Zero is honestly the coolest thing my two oldest brothers have done since they took over both teams. The bar is located below the Langfield corporate offices and can only be accessed from the underground tunnels that connect the stadium, the arena, and the office.

The best part about the bar is that it’s a players-only place. So the only people getting in are those we invite. That’s what I need today. Privacy. Shelter from the media, strangers, and my ex-girlfriend.

I don’t know who’ll show up or what I’ll tell them, but when Daniel stands, I follow him, unwilling to fake it any longer.