“So where are Jules and Blaise?” I ask Becks as he hands me a bottle of beer.
“She’s bringing Blaise home from basketball practice. They’ll be here soon.” He slides onto the chair across from me at the kitchen table. “Does your sister know you’re home yet?”
“No. Just you and Max. I wanted to talk to Jules before I told anyone else. Unless Max already activated your freaky family phone tree.”
Becks smiles and shakes his head, letting me know Max hasn’t done that. At least not yet. “So what’s your plan, kid?”
I run my hand over the condensation forming on the bottle and think about my next move. Which is basically the same thing I’ve been overthinking for the past twenty-four fucking hours. When I look back at Becks, I want to wipe that shit-eating grin off his face.
“Come on. Tell me you didn’t change teams and fly across the country without a plan to win Lindy over? Didn’t I teach you better than that?” He looks utterly amused when I don’t answer. At least one of us is. “Since you’re here alone, I’m assuming you need to convince my baby sister to remain your wife.”
“Maybe,” I mumble, and this fucker laughs at me.
“How drunk were you?” He pushes with an edge to his tone. “Is that why she’s pissed? Or did you do something else to upset her?”
I’m not ready to talk about this yet. Not with Becks. Not with anyone. Not until I talk to Lindy. So instead, I lift my head and look at the closest man I’ve ever had to a father and give him the only thing I can. “It’s always been her, Becks.”
“I’m not the one you have to convince.”
He’s right. But he’s a safe place to start.
Becks stares at me for a minute, contemplating something. “Do you have a place to stay tonight?”
“No. I was gonna grab a room at the hotel in town.”
“Maybe you should go say hi to your sister first,” he challenges. “You know they have a third-floor loft that has a spare bed in it. And if you need something more permanent, we haven’t filled one of the condos on the floor below theirs. Maddox and Callen are in the other one, so we haven’t been in a rush to fill their neighboring unit.”
I push back from my chair and grab my bag from the floor as my plan starts to come together. “You’re a fucking genius, Becks.” With a quick hug and slap to his back, I make my way to the door before he can stop me. “Tell Jules I’ll stop by after I check in with the Revolution tomorrow.”
“Coward,” he laughs as I open the door.
I’m not a coward.
I’m a man on a mission.
“Hey, Becks . . . Any chance I could borrow a car?”
Lindy
“Kenz . . .” I call out as I turn the TV on and find the show. “We’re about to start.” Myrtle and I snuggle up on the couch in front of the fire with a bowl of popcorn and a bottle of wine for me and a special cookie for her.
Bryn reaches over and grabs a handful of popcorn, dropping a few on the couch, which Myrtle inhales immediately. “Come on. I’m pressing play.”
“I’m coming,” Kenzie calls back from the kitchen before she walks in with a plate of nachos. “Did you start?”
“Not yet.”
We have a somewhat unhealthy addiction to a teen soap opera about a group of football players at prep school called The Kings Of Kroydon Hills. It’s based on a book series the twins’ Aunt Nattie wrote. The whole town went nuts when it was released on a streaming service last year. The only bad thing was we binged all twelve episodes in one weekend and had to wait an entire year for season two. It finally dropped today.
There’s a knock at our door, and Bryn and I look at Kenz. It’s her turn to answer since she was the last to sit down. House rules.
“Fine. I’ve got it. But you better pause it.”
“The guys aren’t coming near us tonight. They know we were planning on watching this.”
I throw a piece of popcorn at Bryn. “Like the guys would knock.”
“True.”
We both turn when Kenzie squeals. “Easton? What are you doing here?”
Brynlee grabs my hand, flipping the popcorn bowl over onto the floor in the process, as the two of us spin around on the couch and stretch to look down the hall.
You have got to be kidding me.
Bryn smacks me and silently mouths, Oh my God.
The door slams shut, and Bryn and I are too shocked to turn around and act like we’re not freaking out when Kenzie and Easton walk into the room. “Hey, E.” Bryn smiles and nudges me, trying to get me to close my mouth. “What are you doing here?”
Easton looks from her to his sister before finally setting those gorgeous hazel eyes on me. “I live here now,” he tells us, and his still boyish smile, crooked and handsome, stretches across his face. “I’ve been traded to the Revolution. I thought my sister and my wife might want to know.”
“You what?” I practically scream at the same time Kenzie pulls him into a hug.
“Finally. It took you long enough,” she tells him.
Bryn elbows my ribs again and mouths, Oh shit.
Yeah . . . Oh shit doesn’t really cover it.
“Did you tell Jules and Becks yet?” Kenzie asks, and Easton drops a bag I hadn’t noticed to the floor.
“Better question,” I interrupt.
That damn smile gets even bigger, and the dimple that’s always done stupid things to my heart pops deep in his left cheek. “Yes, wife?”
“Could you please stop calling me that?” I demand because holy shit, I really don’t want to like the way that sounds coming from him.
“Was that your question?” he taunts.
My blood boils. Was that my question? “No, that was not my question, smartass. It was a question. One I’d like answered. But no. My question is where are you planning to stay?”
“We have an extra room,” Kenzie offers, and for the second time in just a few minutes, my head feels like it spins 360 degrees.
“Kenzie,” Bryn cuts her off, but it’s too late. The damage is done.
Easton throws his arm around his sister and drops a kiss on the top of her head. “Thanks, Kenz. I’ll only need it for a night or two. I’m working on lining a place up.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I see red as I squat down and shoo Myrtle away from the spilled popcorn she’s devouring and grab the bowl. “Can I see you in the kitchen, please?”
Kenzie’s wide eyes fly to mine. “Me?”
“No.” I dip my head toward Easton. “Him.” I grab his hand to tug him behind me, furious with him and Kenzie. But he apparently didn’t get the memo because the big jerk laces his fingers with mine, following me willingly, which only pisses me off more. Partly because I like it, and I really, really don’t want to. And partly because this would be so much easier if he was just the bad guy instead of being Easton. My Easton. The man who’s always been my knight in shining hockey skates and one of my favorite people in this whole stupid world.