The Sweet Talker (Boston Hawks Hockey #1) - Gina Azzi Page 0,3
bit of my broken. It’s bullshit, because Courtney has already moved on with a lawyer, the kind of guy that can provide the “steady” lifestyle she desires, and I’ve regressed, bouncing back to my mid-twenties, when I partied hard and fucked any willing bunny.
My teammates tell me I’ve dodged a bullet and while I believe them, it doesn’t make the hurt easier to manage or the betrayal easier to swallow. The off-season was rough, a series of lonely nights and dark thoughts. Between Courtney’s cold feet and Easton’s hitting rock bottom, I’ve never been so elated for training camps to kick off. For the past three months, I’ve thrown myself into preparing for this season and with only two weeks to go until our season opener, I’m feeling optimistic for the first time in months.
“You good?” Austin asks, bumping me with his shoulder.
“Yeah, man. You?” I accept my refill from the cocktail waitress with thanks and take a large gulp.
“How is he?” Austin asks, lowering his voice. As my brother’s best friend, Austin’s concern is deeper than just hockey and what Easton’s rehab means for this season. He’s genuinely worried about East’s recovery, same as me.
I glance around but no one is paying us any attention. Some of the guys on the team suspect that Easton isn’t really sick tonight. Or that he is but it’s not a flu-like virus. Coach Phillips is going to break the news next week once East makes it through detox. “He’s managing,” I say, keeping my response vague.
The truth is, I have no clue how East is fairing in rehab. I know that he’s surviving but I haven’t been allowed contact with him. Even when I’m given permission to see him, I don’t know if he’ll want to see me. Or, more accurately, if he’ll want me to see him in rehab. After his stint in rehab last year, my brother could barely meet my eyes. Embarrassed and disheartened, he confided that his inheriting our father’s alcoholic gene bothers him a hell of a lot more than I realized. He fears turning into our old man, a father with a sharp tongue and even sharper hands.
Next to me, Austin raises his glass to his mouth but before he drinks, he leans over the railing, muttering swear words.
I try to follow his line of sight to see what’s got him heated but other than some hot girls, I come up blank. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m gonna fucking kill my sister,” he growls, waving over to the bouncer to let the girls up.
I laugh. Having spent many weekends at the Merricks’, I know firsthand that before Savannah married Mike, she was outgoing but always listened to her brother’s warnings. Claire, on the other hand, throws caution to the wind and pushes every one of Austin’s buttons just to see how much she can get away with. In the next blink, Claire steps onto the landing and I feel Austin’s pain.
Claire has always been beautiful but dressed the way she is tonight, every guy in here will be salivating over her.
“She does it on purpose, you know?” I tell my friend as he begins to stalk toward his sister. Claire purposely flirts with my brother all the time just to piss Austin off. I open my mouth to remind Austin of this but my words stall in my throat as I get a look at Claire’s friend.
Damn. The woman is a knockout. Long, brown hair that falls like a curtain of curls around her shoulders, sparkling green eyes that dazzle even from across the room, and a body that makes my mouth water, with hips I’d like to sink my fingers into and a graceful neck I want to run my mouth over.
I grab Austin’s forearm before he disappears. “Who’s she with?”
“My cousin.” He sounds genuinely angry but there’s a hint of surprise in his tone too, like he wasn’t expecting to see his cousin tonight.
I sure as hell wasn’t prepared to see her either. “That’s Indy?” I ask, recalling an entirely different version of the Indiana Merrick I remember from my teenage years. She would visit Boston with her parents every summer and sometimes our paths would cross but she always held herself back, as if she preferred to be on the periphery while Claire beamed as the center of attention. Indy always had her nose in a book, rarely drank with us, and constantly talked about a hockey player she was dating.