Page 3 of The Pucking Fake Marriage (The Ice Kings #4)

TWO

UNFINISHED BUSINESS (KEN)

Three months later…

My muscles are on fire as I march into the changing rooms. Needles of pain shoot up my legs with every step, and my back is still aching after I slammed it on the ice one too many times.

“The only endurable thing about this practice was that it was only that, a practice.” Coach Tanner’s biting voice carries into the room, even if he’s in the corridor outside. “Keep taking hits like that, Edwards, and you’ll be warming the bench all season.”

Great.

Many of my teammates push past me roughly on the way to the showers. Can’t say I blame them. Tanner kept them for an extra hour on the biting ice to “Fix Edwards’s abysmal playing before I’m forced to blow my own brains out.”

I’d be damn angry if anyone ruined the first practice since our historic win of last season, too.

“Now are you going to tell me what’s up, or am I going to keep guessing till I hit on something? ”

I turn around, even though I absolutely don’t need to. The only person who would care enough to ask me that question after I messed up so badly is Blake. Sure enough, he’s standing behind me, stripping off his shoulder pads with a look of concern on his face.

I grin, amused in spite of myself. “So, you married a pop singer and learned how to care ? Cringe.”

Blake ignores my taunt. Another new development. Two years ago, Blake would have said something scathing and walked away. Now he merely shrugs. “Come on. If you’re going through some shit, I’d like to know.”

“I’m not.” I’m sounding as firm as I can, but I know Blake isn’t buying it. “Really, what could I be going through?”

He looks as though I've raised an interesting point. I can see why. The last time Blake was off his game on the ice, it had to do with girl trouble. He's quite aware of the emptiness in my romantic life.

“I don’t know, man,” he says. “Something to do with your family, maybe?”

My amusement is tinged with a deeper sense of frustration. Feels like Blake is going to keep pushing till he discovers something.

"I've got a brother I don't speak to and parents who I rarely visit up in Chestnut Hill," I say, pulling off my hockey jersey. "There's very little to talk about, not to mention worry about."

I’ve stripped myself of half my hockey gear before I notice the shock on Blake’s face. “You’ve got a brother?”

The frustration piles on. Blake has managed to find something to prod me about. “Yep.” I push past him to the showers, ignoring the stony looks of the rest of the team. I expect Blake to take my curt answer in good faith, maybe understand that I don’t want to talk about it. Instead, he follows me through the throng, waiting as I reach for one of the towels on the hooks outside the stalls.

“Blake, piss off. Seriously.”

He has an unusually obstinate look on his face. “Make it easier by telling me why you sucked at practice today. Or at least more about your brother. Is he younger, older?”

I let out a ragged sigh. I know I’m going to regret saying this, but he’s not going to back off. I goaded him almost as hard two seasons ago, and I didn’t think about backing down once. This is just karma.

“Neither. He’s my twin.”

Blake’s eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. “You’ve got a twin brother? ”

“Identical.” Knowing I’ve given him enough to be riveted, I steal into a stall and slam the door behind me, turning on the shower.

The damn fool’s right though , I admit to myself as I shrug off the towel and start to lather my body, wincing every time I touch one of my bruises. I do have a reason for sucking at practice today. It’s the same reason I’ve been dancing on melancholy for the last three months. And even though I haven’t admitted it to any of my buddies, it’s a thought that pretty much never leaves my mind.

The thought of her.

It's hard to believe only three months have passed. The encounter feels as fresh as if it happened last week, or even yesterday. Though our interaction was brief, its impact lingers, undoubtedly because it's the most exhilarating experience of my adult life. One moment, I was chuckling at Alex and Reggie's devotion to their wives; the next, a specter from my past landed in my lap, turning my world upside down .

Literally.

The first thing I noticed about her was her hair. Straight, long, and black, it flowed behind her like a sheet of pure velvet. She used to wear it in a bun all the time as a teen, and I always wondered what she would look like with her hair down. It was every bit as alluring as I imagined it would be.

And that wasn’t the only thing that changed. Her figure was more or less the same: slim, trim, elegant, true to her dancer form. Even damn Kali still has the same stature ten years later. But everything else was different. Her breasts, peaking out on both sides of her top. Her hips were filled out, with a curviness I didn’t recognize. And the shimmering quality of that damned skirt, how it clung to her ass, made me hard the moment I touched her.

Charlie was my everything growing up. When she turned me down, it broke me. I packed those feelings away and buried them deep. Staying away from home made it easy to forget.

Then I saw her again, and it all came rushing back. But this time, it wasn't just love. It was something raw, primal. The moment I touched her, I was lost. Desire and anger mixed together, creating a cocktail of emotion I'd never felt before. It scared me how much I wanted her, how easily she got under my skin again.

I groan now, recalling it. Her skin was ivory, the smoothest, most delicate thing I’ve ever touched. It felt familiar and foreign all at once. I wanted to keep my hands on her, but I put it out of my mind. Charlie’s always going to be Charlie.

She’s always going to choose Kali. Not me.

Or so I thought, until she made that comment about not keeping in touch with him. And parted her thighs, as if inviting me in.

Touching her felt almost as good as my best fucks. A part of me in her, giving her pleasure, causing her eyes to roll back… I would have continued forever. And then I felt her grinding up against my thigh, clamoring for me to put something bigger in her.

Another groan slips from my lips. My dick is hardening now, shooting bolts of tension to my skull. The events of the night grow a little dimmer after we left the bar, mostly because Charlie made sure the staff sent wine up to my room. But I remember enough. Holding her up against the wall, thrusting into her over and over. Her wonderful tightness, how damn wet she was. Continuing till I lost myself. Getting hard again minutes later, deciding to let her ride me. Hell, I even remember us stealing out of the hotel room—her idea. Don’t know where else we fucked, but I can remember her hand in my pants as we skulked behind the hotel, groping my dick, touching me in all the right places.

I’m fully erect now, the tension between my legs doubling with every second I choose to linger on the memory. My hands find my length, closing around it as my eyelids flutter shut. I focus on her, touching myself to a particularly gratifying recollection, one where I sucked on her pebbled nipples, my chin grazing her breasts as the feel of her caused me to dangle dangerously close to climax…

I let out a last, louder groan as I spill myself. Shuddering with the release, I collapse against the wall, satiated and frustrated all at once.

Been doing that for three whole months, every single time I shower.

It’s not a fucking wonder that I haven’t been able to focus on the ice .

Minutes later, as I pull on a pair of fresh sweatpants, I let myself dwell on the main reason I’ve been off my game. It’s not the pleasure she gave me that night. Nor the fact that I finally got to have her after having accepted I never would.

It’s that I only remember fragments of the best night I ever lived through. After we went back to the room the second time, I woke up hours later to a pounding headache and an empty bed.

Once more, Charlie fucking disappeared on me, leaving nothing behind. Not even a phone number. Hell, I’d have to call her parents if I want to get in touch with her.

The message was clear. Save for this one night, she still doesn’t want me.

I played it off to my friends, though. Told them about fucking her and ending things right after. None of them is aware of the torment that plagues me every damn night when I touch myself to her image. Or the desire that still burns in me whenever she flashes through my mind. Which is every single second of the day.

I’m no longer in love with her, but she’s managed to get me hooked again. She can’t help it, apparently.

And I’m the idiot that keeps falling into the trap.

The moment I step out of the changing rooms, Blake appears by my side like he was summoned there by magic. He’s also showered and dressed in sweatpants. “You ready to go eat, buddy? Alex’s coming to pick us up. We could get some takeout and hang out at your apartment. Or we can go to the new restaurant that opened up a few weeks ago that everyone’s buzzing about.”

I’m beyond grateful that he’s no longer talking about my brother, but I still don’t want to be stuck with him and Alex for the next hour. I’d rather stew in the torture of Charlie leaving me high and dry than let my friends regale me with stories of their happily married life.

“No, thanks,” I say, as Alex’s SUV rolls up. I take the passenger seat before Blake can, and he boxes me on the arm before he slips into the back seat. “I want some time alone tonight.”

Alex’s thick eyebrows rise up to form twin arches on his forehead. “What happened?”

I’m almost offended. “What, a single guy demands time alone and that’s confusing to you?”

“He played horribly,” Blake informs Alex, a former Titan himself. Alex quit the team to become a full-time husband and father, a decision which still stuns me. Though, I’ve got to admit he looks far happier than he ever was being on the team. “Tanner was mad.”

Alex looks like he’s trying to bite back a grin as he starts the car, and we zoom away from the Titans’ training center in Northeast Philly. “He’ll get over it. It’s only the first practice of the season.”

There’s a moment’s silence in the car, and I feel a hint of apprehension. And then…

“Ken has an identical twin.”

Of fucking course. My fingers fold into fists as I glare at Blake through the rearview mirror. It’s a little too late, though, because Alex’s mouth is already gaping open as he stares at me.

“How come none of us knew this? Hell, even the blogs have no idea, or they’d have flushed him out by now.”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. The only antidote I can think of to calm the storm roaring in my head is her. But thinking of her stirs up a different kind of frustration. Before long, there are drums beating in my head.

“Kind of creepy. The sameness always freaks me out for some reason.”

“You and Brit are practically identical,” Alex throws at Blake, laughter in his voice. Yeah, Alex married Blake’s little sister. It’s a mark of how well Blake is doing now that he doesn’t even react to Alex’s words. Plus, I can tell they’re both still focused on me. “Are you okay, man?”

I force my lids open. “Fine,” I spit through gritted teeth.

Alex keeps staring at me. “Is there an issue with your brother? Is that why you were so off today?”

I run my fingers through my hair, more of a preventive measure to stop myself from hitting Alex than anything else, really. “We haven’t spoken in ten years. I don’t even know where he lives.”

Wrong thing to say, I realize. Alex’s jaw gets even slacker. A rude hoot from a driver in the next lane interrupts us—Alex almost hit him.

“Start looking at the road, or we’re going to die soon,” I tell him, flashing a grin I don’t quite feel. Nothing about this conversation is amusing.

Alex snaps back to looking ahead, but he doesn’t stop trying to piss me off. “You haven’t spoken in ten years? What’s up with that?” Through the mirror, I can see that Blake is also waiting curiously for an explanation.

Damn it all to hell.

My throat clenches as I weigh the options. Talk about Charlie and what happened in Las Vegas… Or tell them about the most horrible thing that ever happened in my life. Interestingly, another thing Charlie played a part in.

Since I’m going to have to talk about her either way, I decide to keep my mouth shut.

“We fought.” That’s all I can say about Kali without punching a hole through the passenger window .

Something in my voice must have given away my lack of patience because Blake finally changes the topic. “Know how I can get a new marriage certificate, Alex?”

At the word “marriage,” I feel my mind burn with a strange sensation. Before I can place it, Alex lets out a guffaw, turning around to look at Blake.

“Tired of Faye already? Her fans are going to kill you if you announce a divorce.”

“Seriously, Alex, look at the road.” Leaning over, I pull the wheel and turn it toward the right lane.

Alex barely notices. Not surprising. The only thing I hate more than answering questions is being with them when they start talking about marriage. I become the odd one out real fast.

“You know that’s not it,” Blake growls. “Faye left ours on our dresser, and one night while we—” He clears his throat. “Well, I wasn’t paying attention, and it tore. How can we replace it?”

Alex bursts into loud laughter. A reluctant smile tugs on my lips. I know exactly what Blake was doing when the certificate ripped.

“Dunno, ask Brit. She knows weird stuff like that.” Alex finally turns around and says, “Damn.” I look out of the passenger window just in time to see us speeding past a U-turn. “I just missed our turn.”

Now I can feel smug. “The next one is not for another twenty miles.”

“Thanks a lot, jackass,” Blake mutters.

“Hey, I was only trying to save your marriage,” Alex yells back.

Marriage. The odd sensation crawls up my spine again. As my friends start to bicker in earnest, I stare through the window at the rows of buildings flashing past, trying desperately to locate the source of the feeling. Yeah, I’m hung up bad over Charlie; I wanted to marry her when I was younger. Was even stupid enough to tell her that. But that was about it, right?

A more serious smile forms on my lips as I soak in the amusement. If I ever see Charlie again, I’m going to lock her up and fuck her silly. Not get down on my knee and ask her to marry me.

Yeah, I want her. Just not that way anymore.

I can’t allow myself to feel that way for anyone ever again, anyway.

From the ages of thirteen to seventeen, I was desperately torn up over a girl who was dating my brother. Everything about Charlie appealed to me. Hell, I could have lived off her smile. She was my damn world. I got hooked on her the way people get hooked on crack… Or the way sullen teenage boys get hooked on the first person to show them a hint of affection.

Only, it wasn’t just that. Charlie and I were the outcasts in our homes. We understood each other better than anyone else could. That’s what made it such a kick in the stomach when she got together with Kali. For years, I waited for her to realize that my brother was a jackass. That he wasn’t good enough for her. Until it became clear that she was never going to see it herself.

My stomach buckles and twists as I remember that night.

When I was finally done waiting.

Embarrassment wells up within me at the memory of stealing into the room that night, armed with nothing but crazy hope and a heart swelling with love. I can still see my teenage self sitting on my twin’s bed, holding a girl who was never going to be mine, pouring myself out in a way I’d never done before.

Add that to my list of regrets.

“Why don’t we eat here?” Alex says suddenly, interrupting my thoughts.

Relieved at the distraction, I look through the windshield. He’s currently pulling up in front of one of the buildings flanking the roadside. The huge signboard reads “Mellie’s Furniture Store.” I open my mouth to ask Alex if this is his idea of a joke, but then I realize that there’s another, smaller signboard just next to it. In tiny, cracked letters, it says, “C’s Kitchen”

“The place looks…dead,” Blake says tonelessly.

I nod. The sign isn’t peeling as badly as the brown-painted walls of the building. The windows are large but dark, and it’s hard to tell if the place is open or closed. Alex, however, does not share the same reservations.

“Yeah, I told you,” he says to Blake. “All other restaurants around here lost their customers. This one must be the last one standing. It could be fine. If it’s horrible, we’ll just leave,” Alex says, stopping the car and getting out.

“You sure?” Blake mutters to me. “Looks like the owner might literally kidnap us for want of patrons.”

I’m grinning again, my mood a little lighter. I’m going to force a thousand laughs like this and it’s going to be okay. I managed to get through her crushing my heart to dust before. I’ll get through the memory of a night of wild sex too.

We reach the entrance, and Alex pushes aside the sliding glass doors. My first thought is that the owners have done as good a job as they could polishing up this place. The interior of the restaurant looks much better: bright yellow walls, creaky-looking wooden chairs arranged neatly around tables, and a serving counter in the center of the space.

Yet, it couldn’t be clearer that the restaurant is not doing well. For one, the only other person here is a bored-looking waitress behind the counter applying her lip gloss and checking her reflection in the transparent display of an empty showcase.

“Yeah, let’s leave,” Blake says. Just then, there’s a loud crash, and the waitress snaps to attention, noticing us for the first time.

“Hi,” she says, perking up. She looks surprised to see us. “What can I get you?”

“Nothing, thanks,” Blake starts to say, but then there’s an even louder crash from an inner room. She turns toward a door behind her labeled “staff only.” Listening closely, I can hear the voices of two people arguing furiously behind the door.

“Really, you should sit…” She tapers off suddenly, her eyes narrowing at us. “Wait, I know you guys. You’re the Philly Titans. You’re Ken Edwards, right? I’m a huge fan. And Blake White!” Her eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. “Gosh, I love Faye Strummer. I listen to all her albums on repeat.”

“Me too,” Blake mutters under his breath. “Now, we’ve got to stay. Thanks for nothing, fuckwads.”

I bite back a grin as the girl attempts to persuade us to stay with even more enthusiasm. Still, it’s hard to ignore the crashing in the kitchen. Ten seconds later, the “staff only” door flings open, and a burly man wearing a chef’s apron storms out. He’s instantly identifiable as one of the people making the noise.

“If you’re going to fire me, do it now,” he spits to someone behind him as he walks on. “God knows this place won’t last another month, anyway.”

“Shut up, Troy,” the waitress, whom I just notice has a nametag that reads “Haley,” whisper yells. “We’ve got customers.”

“You better run for your lives.” He turns to us, looking us over. “The fucker who owns this place isn’t going to rest till she fires all her employees and poisons all her patrons.”

Just then, the kitchen door opens again. I half expect another burly man, but the person who steps through the door is much smaller. And a woman.

But not just any woman.

She looks a lot different than she did at the club, that’s for sure. Her dark hair is tied in a loose knot at the top of her head. She’s wearing a chef’s jacket and worn-out jeans, the outfit concealing her figure from view. Her brown eyes are filled with a weariness that wasn’t there in Las Vegas, and her lips are drawn into a frown.

But it’s her. It’s fucking her .

Somehow, the gods of fate swung in my favor and sent her right back to me.

I can barely believe it.

Blake and Alex are saying something, but I can’t muster enough brainpower to focus on them. All I can see, all I can behold, is Charlie.

“You’re fired,” she’s hissing. There’s a new hardness to her voice. “More than that, you’re going to pay me back for every single thing you stole?—”

She suddenly stops talking, looking away from Troy and toward the doorway, noticing for the first time that she’s got customers. Her eyes meet mine, and blood drains from her face as recognition settles in.

The world collapses around us, leaving us alone. We stare at each other for what seems like hours. A slow smile breaks over my face, casting down the melancholy I’ve felt for the past few months. I know we’re both thinking the same thing.

Payback’s a bitch.