Page 35 of Afterglow (Ottawa Regents #3)

There it is. I don’t appreciate the insinuation and send a glare her way.

“You’d think.” Bea’s tone is unfazed. “But we never really got the chance to until I ran into him while riding my bike.”

Parker hasn’t said a word the entire meal, but he puts his fork down. “Ran into?”

“It’s an expression, Park,” Piper replies. “She didn’t actually run into him.”

Behraz laughs, but it’s usual ability to dissolve my anxiety is countered by my family’s ability to stir it up. “No, I actually did run into him. Direct hit.”

The adult side chatter goes quiet.

“It’s kinda funny if you think about it,” she continues through a titter. “Poor man was minding his own business, crossing the street, and I knocked him out. Flat,” —her fork stabs a small shred of turkey— “Horizontal” —another stab at another piece— “Man was out cold.”

My older brother blinks twice. A muscle in his jaw tics.

Uh oh.

His eyes narrow, focus switching between her and me. “ You …knocked him out?”

“Totally,” she says through a giggle. The rate of my pulse accelerates. “I may be short, but I’m strong.”

Parker’s eyes fix squarely on me. “Did she give you a concussion?”

She notices my lack of response and slows her bites. Any trace of joy in her eyes fade into apology, voice suddenly mousy. “It was an accident.”

My hand meets her thigh, squeezing the flesh in comfort and confirmation. She did nothing wrong. If anything, it’s my fault for not telling them.

Parker scoffs, his contempt palpable. “An accident that affects his profession.”

“ Pfft .” Dylan blows a raspberry, attempting to deflect the sudden tension. “Head injuries happen all the time in the NHL. He seems fine.”

Cameron adds fuel to the fire. “Exactly. It coulda been so much worse.”

“True.” My brother glowers and huffs. “She coulda caused permanent damage and he’d never play again.”

Something inside me snaps.

“Shut up, Park.” It comes out softer than I want.

“Not that he cares about that or anything.” His loathing transfers to me. “Didn’t care to call his own family.”

My face gets three degrees hotter, repeating the command louder, more firmly. “I said, shut up.”

“C’mon guys.” Greer tries to dissipate the brewing confrontation. “It’s been months since we’ve seen each other. Can’t we have one peaceful meal together?”

“Sure.” Parker drops his napkin onto his plate, scraping the legs of the chair across the floor before standing. “Enjoy your peaceful meal .”

Bea goes ashen. For a moment, I weigh my options, wondering if it’s a good idea to leave her with my sisters and go after Parker, but anger diminishes any logic. It crawls over every inch of my reddened skin. I jump to my feet.

“Fletch—” Piper and Greer say simultaneously.

“Don’t,” I cut them off, gritting through my teeth, “I’ve had enough.”

Following the sound of his heavy footsteps leads to the rec room. My asshole brother rounds the foosball table, grabs a beer from the mini fridge, and opens it with a loud pop .

“Hey!”

He slouches into the couch, takes a long gulp, then belches. “Oh, now you wanna talk.”

“Shut the fuck up and listen to me, for once .” Cursing at my brother feels unfamiliar on my tongue and takes a second to get used to.

“I’m so sick of your bullshit. You wanna be a dick to me, fine, be my fucking guest.” My arms move around mid-air.

“I’m used to it. But that’s my girlfriend.

You won’t be disrespecting her again, got it? She’s the only reason I’m here.”

He scoffs. “Yeah? Dad slowly dying or spending time with your actual family wasn’t convincing enough?”

“Fuck you.” My index finger points, direct and accusing, emboldened by simmering rage. “Don’t act like you’re some sort of saint because you live on the next block and cut their grass every week. You’re not the only one pulling weight?—”

He takes another glug of beer. “Yeah, throwing all that money around solved everyone’s problems, eh?”

I growl, frustrated. “It always comes down to money with you, doesn’t it? You don’t give a fuck that I got hurt, but if I couldn’t play, you’d have to actually do shit like take care of Mom and Dad.”

“Okay, Fletch, sure. Keep telling yourself that I’m the bad guy. You think your little girlfriend out there doesn’t care about money? You think Bea’s with you for what, your athletic prowess and brilliant mind?”

Yeah, asshole. And my huge dick.

“Get fucked, Parker.” The large coffee table bars the space between us. Probably for the best, otherwise I’d reach over and punch her name right out of his mouth. Then I’d be no better than him. “You don’t know shit about her. She may have hit me, but at least she was sorry about it.”

That one seems to sting. His eyes darken over the top of the can. “Me checking you on the ice is the reason you could take it.”

“I was a kid.” Hurt smolders in my chest, as if it happened last week instead of fifteen years ago.

“And now you’re a man. All grown-up and keeping secrets, making reckless decisions that affect all of us.”

“Reckless for who, exactly? Yeah, it was pretty reckless not to tell you I had a severe concussion. Reckless to allow a near-stranger to care for me over my own family. Now, why would I do that, huh, Park? You forget already?” Steam has to be coming out of my ears by now with how vehemently I’m sweating from this verbal diarrhea.

“ You told me not to come home, because you think I’m not good enough, not capable of making the right choice—no, the choice that you want me to make.

You think, you want. And that’s what goes.

Nothing anybody else thinks, wants, or says matters.

Right? You know what’s best for everyone .

” The word exaggerates with my jazz hands and a singing lilt.

“And what about you?” Parker rolls his eyes and shakes his head, denying and disapproving in the simple motion.

“You used to be so focused, locked in. Now you don’t give a damn about hockey, too busy with playing house and fucking around with—” A dismissive hand flails in the air, motioning toward the door.

“What did I say about disrespecting my girlfriend, Park?” I warn, a finality stabilizing my tone. One set of knuckles cracks under the pressure of my other hand. “Say one more thing about her.”

Parker’s eyebrows rise and drop while lifting a palm in surrender.

The breaths taken through my nostrils steady from harsh intakes of air. “She’s the best thing to ever happen to me.”

A humorless laugh leaves his chest. “The best thing?”

“Yeah, the best thing.” I lower to the opposing armchair with a sigh, and scrub my face, wholly tired of the argument.

“You don’t get to tell me how to fucking feel about the woman I love.

” He nurses his drink, possibly accepting he’s not gonna win this time.

“You think I wanna be in here, fighting with you? That I wouldn’t rather be enjoying the rare free time I have with the people I love? ”

My brother doesn’t say anything, simply sips his drink and fidgets with the pop tab while I continue.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to have the career you dreamed of, Parker.

It sucks.” His eyes go glassy at the mention.

“And I know you don’t think so, but I am grateful for everything you did for me.

I just…can’t keep living for you. I’m not a vessel you can fill with your expectations and shit in whenever I don’t live up to them. I’m a person, Park.”

Our eyes lock, but the hardened outer layer has melted from them. “And you’re my big brother. I want you to be happy, I wanna make Mom and Dad happy. But I wanna be happy, too. Hockey isn’t my dream, it’s yours.”

The conversation stills for a beat. Parker stares at the rug between his socked feet. “So what, you’re gonna quit?”

“I didn’t say that. Hockey is my job. I enjoy it sometimes, too, and I’m gonna keep playing, but not for you. Now, Behraz? She’s my dream, and I’ll do anything to keep her. One day, that might mean quitting hockey.”

It’s the worst thing I could threaten him with.

“But not today,” I end. This is probably the longest conversation I’ve had with him, ever. “She’d never ask that of me, anyway.”

Another pause hangs in the air, thick with the uncertainty of how Park will react.

He clears his throat. “Fletcher.”

For a second, he throws me a sorry glance, and my heart pangs with guilt. But it passes as quickly as it came.

“You don’t owe me anything, Parker.” I straighten, getting to my feet and casting a tall shadow over him. “I don’t expect or need an apology from you. But when you come back in there, you’re going to tell Bea you’re sorry for being a jerk.”

My nervous system is wrecked. I’ve never spoken to anyone like that, much less my brother. I duck into the washroom in the hall on my way back to the dining table. Splashing cold water on my face helps enough to encourage a return to the chaos.

Miller and Cam have since switched spots, and all the women in my family, save Harper, have their elbows on the tabletop, leaning toward Behraz. My sisters stare at me with knowing, almost sinister, smiles. I slide into my seat next to Bea. She locks her hand onto mine under the table.

“You okay, Annie?” Piper grins.

My girlfriend pushes her plump lips forward, and wrinkles her nose, unable to hide her distaste for the nickname. “I really don’t think it’s cool to call him that unless he asks you to.”

Her grin drops, eyes shifting to me.

“I’ve never really been a fan,” I admit.

Greer coughs when Parker sneaks back into the dining room. “Anyway, we were just talking about how we had no idea you two were living together.”

Oh, great.

Parker closes his eyes and sighs through his nostrils.

Behraz titters. “That’s a funny story, too.”

“You’re full of funny stories, huh?” Piper sneers.

I glare back at her, mouthing the words be nice .

Bea either doesn’t notice the snark or doesn’t care. Her sweet face remains unbothered, smiling into her next bite. “You have no idea. For every instance Fletcher is quiet and restrained, I am overly chatty and delightfully clumsy. Hence, bicycle accident.”

A chorus of understanding or agreement replies.

We tag-team the explanation of how she stuck around to aid in my recovery, how I found out her sublease had ended and offered a temporary place to stay, and how living together, as friends at first, only deepened our mutual admiration.

Not as poetically as that, but you know. “And the rest is history” is a surefire way to end an interrogation.

“Well, I think it’s sweet, Fletch,” Mom says, handing out dessert plates of pumpkin pie. “Your first love being your one and only is really special.”

Greer makes a lewd motion, forming a V with her fingers and flicking her tongue through it when Mom turns her back. Bea’s eyes widen with an instant flush, and I use my middle finger to wipe my tear duct.

“Grow up,” Miller grumbles.

Parker pounds the back of his fork onto the table, clearly annoyed at how all the siblings return to our pubescent dynamics when we’re together too long.

“That’s enough.” Everyone’s attention turns to him.

“Hey, um , Bea? I’m sorry.” The clatter of metal on porcelain ceases.

Greer’s bite falls out of her open mouth back onto her plate.

“For the way I acted earlier. I was upset with Fletcher and rude to you.”

She accepts with a nod, throwing me a fleeting, surprised look. Wow , she mouths.

My sisters chime in altogether.

“Sorry.”

“Yeah, we’re really sorry.”

One hand smooths over Bea’s back.

“I get it,” my girlfriend replies. “I have an overprotective brother, too. I just happen to be outrageously in love with yours. I promise I have the best of intentions.”

Greer opens her mouth, surely to say something inappropriate, and I stop her.

“By the way, we’re staying at a hotel for this weekend before I head out to Calgary.”

If flabbergasted had a sound, this was it.

“Well!” Mom claps her hands together, silencing the protest. “Who’s ready for pie?”

The pumpkin and cherry pies get cleaned out before we can fight over the last slices, and when the kids revolt about going to bed, their respective sets of parents take them upstairs, leaving Bea and I to clear the table while my mother packs the leftovers in the kitchen.

“I heard what you said,” she murmurs.

My eyebrow perks.

“I know I shouldn’t have eavesdropped, but I was worried. I don’t think anyone’s stood up for me like that.”

“I surprised myself. I’ve never even stood up to him, either.”

“I’m so proud of you.” She leaves her stack of plates onto the one in my hand, strokes up my flexed forearm with a hum, and uses my shoulders to lift herself to the tips of her toes, pulling my face toward her to place a kiss on my cheek.

A blush rises to meet her lips in a hot wave.

Bea releases a breathy sigh by my ear, and my cock stirs. The bastard.

“When you blush like this… God , Fletcher. It makes me so wet.”

I swallow.

“Can’t wait to get to the hotel so I can suck your perfect cock.”

“Shit.” I discard the plates on the table and grasp her hand, pulling her toward the kitchen. “I have an idea.”

My mom’s inattention allows us to sneak past her and into the renovated, walk-in pantry.

“In here?” Bea gapes, backing herself into some wooden shelves. “You’re turning out to be such a slut.”

I pin her on the spot, stretching her hands to the high shelf above her head.

She arches, pushing her tits toward me. A gritty groan climbs the column of my neck.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” My lips drop to graze her jaw before gripping her thighs and sliding her up, hooking both knees over my hips. “I’m so hard I could cry, Bea.”

One harsh, denim-covered thrust creates an intolerable friction. The glass jars rattle behind us.

“Dying to be inside you. Dying to see how wet you are.” Her bottom lip mutes a whimper when I squeeze one breast, thumbing over a hardened nipple. “You’ll be quiet for me, won’t you?”

She shakes her head. “Let ‘em hear, Fletcher. I want them to know how well-fucked you keep me.”