Easton storms out of the locker room after a shit practice, and Leo whistles as he watches him go. “What’s the matter with him? He finally replace out where Goldilocks has been sleeping?”

“Christ. You’re an idiot. You know that, right? Get your shit together, and try to take it seriously, brother. Game one is next week.” I lace up my boots and shut my locker. “Wait . . . am I Goldilocks in this scenario?” I ask and smack the back of his big head.

“I am serious. You didn’t see me fucking up out there. I’m not pulling fouls and looking sloppy as shit. I’ve got my shit on lockdown. I’m also not the one secretly fucking around with my team captain’s little sister. You might want to look in the mirror before you call me stupid, shithead.”

“He’s the fucking co-captain,” I mumble under my breath, wishing I were sleeping with her, but that would mean I’ve seen her. And it’s been almost a week since I’ve set eyes on Mackenzie Hayes.

A fucking horrible week. We’ve lost each game we’ve played, and the domino effect it seems to have had on the team has been massive. It’s like someone picked at a tiny thread, and now we’re unraveling at the seams.

Coach is distracted. Brynnie’s blood pressure sky-rocketed while she was in the hospital, so they ended up keeping her a few extra days. Coach is running ragged between the hospital, home, and here.

Our left winger fractured his arm in two places in a drunk driving accident Monday night with our backup goalie driving. The press has been all over us. Management has been all over us. It’s mind-blowing how one fucking week can change a team’s dynamic.

Leo shuts his locker and looks over at the Wilder brothers. “You guys want to grab lunch?”

We try to do lunch with Everly and Gracie’s husbands once a week after practice. Easton joins us most of the time. But no one looks like they’re in the mood today.

“Nah, man.” Ares checks his phone. “Gracie hasn’t been feeling great. I’m heading home.”

“Same. Everly closed the shop early today.” Cross smiles, and I gag a little.

“Dude. I don’t need to hear what you two are doing when she cuts out of work early,” Leo adds, and I see it on his face before he says anything else, so I slam his hockey bag into his stomach, stopping the impending verbal vomit that’ll absolutely include something about Mac and me.

I gotta get my own place. He’s killing me.

“Come on, shit for brains.” I clap his back and move him along. “Callen is waiting for us at West End.” I shove him through the locker-room door and outside into my truck. “Seriously, man. What’s wrong with you? Are you trying to get me killed?” I ask, pissed off.

Tensions are too high, and he’s been pulling this shit all week.

Saying dumb shit whenever he can. Stirring the pot.

“Dude. You can’t keep denying it. You might as well get it out there,” he tells me, and if it were anyone else, I’d have beaten the shit out of him on the ice already.

I look at him from the corner of my eye as my knuckles turn white with my hold on the steering wheel. “Did Mom drop you on your head as a baby or something?”

“You probably did it yourself because you didn’t want to share, dickhead,” he groans. “I’m trying to help you, man. You’ve been fucking miserable all week, and you’re constantly checking your phone. Quit sneaking the fuck around and start dating her in public. Kenzie’s hot as fuck. I don’t get why you’re hiding it. You ashamed or something?”

It takes everything I have not to slam on the brakes and hope he hits his head on the dashboard. “You really do need help, brother. Mac has been on call every night this week. She’s covering for a colleague at a hospital in Philly. We’re not hiding anything because there’s nothing there to hide. I’ve barely talked to her, and we’re figuring things out. Stay the fuck out of it, Leo. Seriously, man. I’m telling you to stop.”

Figuring things out might be a little strong.

I’ve got no fucking clue where her mind is.

I know where mine is, but even that isn’t as easy as it sounds.

We came back from the hospital last weekend, stripped down to our underwear, and just slept for hours. She never set her alarm, so she slept through dinner with her family and shocked the hell out of me when she wasn’t at all worried about it. She shot a text off to Juliette, and that was that. We went back to bed.

That time, we did more than sleep.

She insisted there’s more she wants to learn, and I was happy to be the one teaching her. But I haven’t seen her since I left her on Sunday, and Leo isn’t wrong. I’m fucking agitated. I want to see her, but I get the pressures of her job, and I’m not going to add to it. Even if we need to talk.

“You want me to be serious? Okay, this is me serious. You’re hiding all kinds of shit, brother, and Kenzie is the only thing I’ve called you out on. Why is Hunter calling? Why the hell are you ignoring him?”

I look down at my phone in the center console and see Hunter’s name flashing on the screen again.

“You got something you want to share, brother?” Leo pushes, pissed off. “Cause things aren’t adding up. You’ve had a thing for Kenzie Hayes since we were kids. Why aren’t you locking that shit down? She’s incredible. She’s smart and hot and could give a shit who your family is because hers makes ours look like underachievers. And that’s saying something. Now Hunter’s been trying to reach you for weeks, and you’re ignoring him . . .”

I pull into West End and turn off the car. “It’s not⁠—”

“Don’t bother lying, Nix. Hunter called me yesterday and asked me why the hell you haven’t called him back. He wouldn’t break confidentiality, but seriously, man, I know you. And this shit isn’t adding up.” Leo doesn’t get angry. He’s always been the easiest-going brother. He lets everything roll off his back and likes to mask it all with humor. But right now, he’s fucking pissed, and he’s not wrong.

“Listen . . .” Leo looks at me like he knows what I’m about to say, and he probably does. “The weight of it all has been getting to me. That’s all.”

The look on his face says it all.

Disappointment and distrust.

Not two things Leo, Hendrix, and I usually feel toward each other.

“Do you ever worry about letting Dad down?” Jesus, I’m pushing fucking thirty, and I’m bitching about my daddy issues.

He drags his hand over his face and looks away. “Dude. How the fuck are we not supposed to worry about that? His jersey hangs in the Hall of Fame.”

“Not just athletically. Just . . . I don’t know. Like the man you are. The priorities you have. Dad made it all look easy, and the only thing I ever remember him asking of us was to always give 110 percent to whatever we were doing.” My gut churns at the thought.

“Earn it,” we both mumble in unison, having heard it so many times throughout our lives. If it’s worth doing—worth having— you need to earn it. Nothing is given to you.

“Nix, you’re always one of the first ones at practice and one of the last ones to leave. You work harder than everyone, including me. What the hell are you worried about? That Dad will be disappointed?” he asks, and it sounds ridiculous.

“I don’t know, man. I just don’t want to throw away what he gave us. We’ve got this great family and great lives here. But I’m not gonna lie, it was nice being in Boston. I liked not having the shadow of the Sinclair legacy hanging over my shoulder every day. Perfect family. Perfect relationship. Perfect fucking career. He handled it all like it was nothing, and some days . . . it’s just a lot.” I stop when Callen pulls his massive truck into the spot next to ours.

“I mean, I guess when you put it that way, it is. But honestly, Nix, you’ve always been an overthinker, and I think you’re doing it now.” Callen knocks on Leo’s window, and Leo gives him the finger. “Mom and Dad had their own hell to go through to get here. They just want us to be happy. Whatever the hell that looks like.”

Callen knocks again.

“Fuck off, Uncle,” Leo yells before he looks at me again. “Even if that means leaving Kroydon Hills.”

Guess my little brother is more observant than I gave him credit for.

Kenzie

Dr. Dick just asked me if you and I were still together and if I could get him tickets to a Philly Kings game.

Nixon

Does he think you can get him tickets because I’m related to the coach?

Kenzie

I think so.

Nixon

Does the dumb fuck not realize you’re related to the team owners?

Kenzie

I’m not sure.

Nixon

What did you tell him about us?

Kenzie

I didn’t. I glossed right over it. Then he asked about the game and mentioned maybe we could go together. I don’t think he has any concept of propriety.

Nixon

Are you on call tonight?

Kenzie

I am. It’s my last night. Why? Have you written your next lesson plan?

Nixon

I thought it could be more like a hands-on assignment. Why don’t you come over after you’re done?

Kenzie

It could be late.

Nixon

I’ll be awake.

Kenzie

Okay. I’ll text you when I leave.

Nixon

And Mac – plan on spending the night.

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