The Langfield Brothers: Box Set

23. Aiden

TWENTY-THREE

AIDEN

Brooks: Aiden, you still planning on meeting up with us? If not, then I’m gonna head home. War’s been staring at his phone all night. Cam and Hall are going shot for shot, and Fitz is flirting hard with the bartender. Parker already left, and Gavin never showed up.

Beckett: Gee, thanks for the invite.

Gavin: Ha, like you would have gone.

Beckett: Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t appreciate being invited. Where are you anyway?

Brooks: Karaoke bar on 7th. Wanna come?

Fuck, I’ve been working hard to ignore my phone, instead focusing on my brooding, but not responding is making my hand itch.

Beckett: Pass.

Gavin: You can sing I Will Survive. We know that’s what you sang in the shower while living in the house of horrors.

I snort, imagining Beckett belting that out in the shower when he first moved in with his wife and her three best friends. Despite what a grump he can be, that is probably an accurate representation of him during that time. Barely holding on while he lived with four women and seven kids in a brownstone that was literally crumbling around them.

When I feel Lennox’s eyes on me, I school my expression and push my phone back into my pocket, the many replies I’ve concocted instantly a distant memory.

“Everything okay?” she asks, her tone tremulous.

She’s been that way since I lost my fucking mind and showed all my cards tonight. Kissing her. Fucking her with my fingers. Making her come on command. Any second now, she’s going to tell me she’s abandoning the plan. Obviously, I can’t handle doing this without getting feelings involved.

“I’m fine. Are you okay?” I risk looking at her. Despite doing all I can to hide my feelings, I need to know what she’s really thinking.

She was quiet for the rest of the night, and as soon as they cut the cake, she was making the rounds to say good night, explaining that she had an early appointment tomorrow morning. Now we’re in the back seat of the car that delivered us here, and we’ve been awkwardly silent.

“Of course.” She pushes her hair back behind her ear as the car comes to a stop in front of the elevator bank in the parking garage of our building. She doesn’t wait for me to help her out, and I can’t make myself feel upset about it. And there’s no fucking way I can get in that elevator with her. I’m liable to babble out a string of apologies. If I do that, then I’ll have to explain why I acted the way I did, and none of those things are signs of someone who can handle the arrangement we have.

She walks ahead of me, and I force myself not to stare at her ass. At the elevator bank, she presses the button and faces the doors, silently waiting for it to open.

“Will you be okay going up by yourself?” I ask, digging my hands into my pockets to keep from reaching for her.

For the first time since we were behind the curtain, she really looks at me. Fuck, she still looks so perfect. It pisses me off that she cleaned herself up after I had her. That her cheeks aren’t still flushed and her lips are barely swollen. Her hair and makeup remain in place, as if I never touched her. Such a fucking perfect princess for her family. Will she do what they ask now that the man they’re pushing on her isn’t a polo-wearing Chad who golfs on the weekends? Is being with him, maybe marrying him, appealing to her? If she did, not only would it make them happy, but she’d get what she wants.

Brows drawing low, she frowns. “Are you going somewhere?”

I nod toward my car. “It’s Camden Snow’s birthday. The guys went out to dinner, and now they’re at karaoke.”

“Aiden, why didn’t you mention it earlier? You didn’t have to miss your friend’s birthday to come to my cousin’s.”

The elevator opens, and I lean in to hold it for her. “I wanted to. You sure you’ll be okay going up?”

With her lip caught between her teeth, she steps closer, pressing her hand to my chest. The heat of her palm sends an electric jolt through me like a defibrillator. “I’ll be fine.” Her blue eyes hold mine asshe pops up on her toes and brushes her lips against my cheek. “Just feel bad I couldn’t return the favor. Night, Hockey Boy.” With that, she shuffles into the elevator.

I’m only beginning to process her words as I step back. As the doors slide shut between us, she catches my eye and smiles.

I clear my throat, searching for control. “Night, Princess. Sweet dreams.”

Even as the doors lock tight, her laughter is audible. “They’ll all be about you.”

Fuck. I gape at the metal doors, contemplating ditching the guys and running up the sixteen flights of stairs so I can be standing there when Lennox gets out.

But I’m playing it cool. This is a long game.

And if she’s dreaming of me, then I’m already a hell of a lot closer to winning than I thought.

“ My boy, my boy, my boy ,” Daniel croons into the microphone while Cam sits on a barstool next to him.

The bar is crowded, so it takes a minute to find the rest of the guys where they’re recording the disaster playing out on stage.

“Holy fuck, how much have they had to drink?” I ask as I approach. Each of the guys turns and gives me a bro hug.

“Too fucking much,” Fitz, our goalie coach, says, bringing his own vodka tonic to his lips. During the season, Cade Fitzgerald keeps his professional distance. He does his best to respect the line between players and coaches. That really could go out the window now that my brother is our coach, but whatever. I understand his desire to keep things professional. But during the offseason, when the unprofessional Cade comes out, he’s a fucking blast. He’s in his forties, but to my knowledge, the guy has never settled down. He acts more like the old Gavin—out with a different person every week.

On road trips, he can usually be found at a local bar, flirting with the bartender. Man or woman, it doesn’t really matter. The guy loves everyone. Though right now, it doesn’t appear he’s loving our left winger or the birthday boy.

From across the table, Brooks zeroes in on me, his expression going stoic. “How was the night?” he asks. Though it’s loud in here—Hall and Snow are screeching the words to “My Girl” by the Temptations—I can read his lips.

I nod, then throw a thumb over my shoulder, gesturing to the bar. I need a few minutes to figure out how to spin this, and Brooks is the most intuitive guy I know. As a goalie, he’s always taking in his surroundings, picking up the smallest details the rest of us miss. That’s why he has no trouble stopping a puck hurtling toward his goal at a hundred miles an hour.

The man is one of the best, and he’s a good part of the reason I’m the best center in the NHL. I’m not being cocky. My stats speak for themselves, and they look the way they do because I’ve spent my entire life trying to score goals on my brother. It takes creativity to get through both his mental and physical walls.

How am I going to play this with him?

Lennox is giving me a second chance? Lennox needed a friend? Lennox is the love of my life, so of course I’m going to fake marry her and hope that she falls for me in the process?

“Dude,” a voice booms only inches from my ear. “What the fuck is going on with you and Lennox?”

A girlish scream escapes me, and my balls ascend into my body at the decibel. I grip the back of a barstool to steady my racing heart, then whip around and square up with my brother. The words I should say— dude you scared me —are replaced by pure idiocy. “I touched her boob.”

Brooks is used to his fiancée spouting the most insane things, so I’m not surprised when he tips back his head and laughs.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asks, dropping a cocktail napkin on the lacquered bar top.

I place my order and then turn back to my brother, who is still chuckling.

“I’m so glad that you find me pouring my heart out so amusing.”

Brooks coughs out another laugh. “You ‘touched her boob’ was you pouring your heart out ?”

“They’re great boobs. And it’s been over a decade since I touched them. I’ve missed them. Do you know what perfect pillows they make?”

My brother blinks, his green eyes swimming with confusion. “So you’re back together with Lennox?” His words are slow, like he’s not sure what to make of it or me. Confusing him like this is my secret weapon. It’s how I get things past him—hockey pucks normally, though I’m far prouder that he’s the one voicing the lie, not me, and it’s because he’s controlling the narrative now. Though we are technically together.

Together meaning we’re in a fake relationship, though the details are unnecessary right now. Bravo, Aiden and your excellent weaving and gliding past the truth.

I’m giving him a firm nod when the bartender returns with my drink. I order a round to be delivered to our table, along with shots for the birthday boy and then tip my head to our group, silently asking Brooks to follow me rather than asking any insightful Brooks-style questions.

A heavy palm lands on my shoulder, pulling me back like a damn yo-yo. My drink sloshes onto my shirt, but that’s not the reason for my grimace. My entire body is working itself up for this conversation.

“You spend a year telling me you aren’t obsessed with your ex, then end your engagement and start dating said ex, and all I get is a shrug?” He gives me the stupid, dopey smile he uses when messing with me, mimicking the one I use as a shield, I guess. “And I’m supposed to believe that you aren’t bursting at the seams to sing about how happy you are?”

My stomach drops and my head spins. Shit. I played this all wrong. He’s right. If Lennox and I were truly getting a second chance, I’d be up there with those idiots doing the Macarena and the Wobble, blubbering about how Lennox Kennedy is finally my girl.

That image dances in my mind briefly, pulling a chuckle from me. That would be a good time.

Brooks arches a brow, as if he’s caught me in the lie, so I set my drink on the bar and level with him. “Look, I’m trying not to get ahead of myself. Yes, I am excited that Lennox and I are finally spending time together again.” See? No lies to be had there . “But her father invited the lead singer of Seven, the dude Lennox met last night, a guy she’s at least a bit interested in, even if it’s only for business.” At least that’s what I keep telling myself. “Jackson is using her to get the guy to sign with his label, and it pissed me off. Also”—I let out a breath and garner my strength; I’m not used to being this damn vulnerable—“to this day, I still have no fucking clue why she ended things. I worry it’s because of her parents. If that’s the case, then I’m afraid they’ll use this guy to do it again.”

My brother glowers, looking like a menacing giant. “Fuck her parents.”

The ache in my chest loosens a bit. I shouldn’t be surprised by his words. My brothers may be hard on me sometimes, but in the end, we’ve got one another’s backs.

“Thanks. Now, can we get back to the party? I think we’re bringing the vibe down. Besides, now that you mentioned singing…”

My brother groans, but he can’t hide the smirk creeping up his face. That only makes me smile wider. And this one isn’t fake.