Page 123 of Trade Deadline

The fan in me is screaming over being able to snoop behind the scenes, so I start walking down the rest of the hallway, taking in all the photos and engraved plaques on the wall.

“Impressive, eh?” A deep voice startles me.

I spin on my heels and see Ethan leaning against the entrance to the gym, his thick arms folded over his broad chest.

“It is.” I nod.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to pull the protective brother card and tell him if he does something to upset Jacob then he’ll have me to deal with, but my inner voice just laughs at me.

Like I could take Ethan Parkes on.

He’s bigger than Blaine at six three and must weigh at least two hundred pounds. The guy could probably bench me single-handedly.

“You don’t need to worry,” he says, almost reading my mind. His steps fall in line with mine as I continue my way down the hall. “About Jacob,” he clarifies. “I want to help you both out.”

Blaine speaks very highly of Ethan, but apart from the night at his house on New Year’s Day and when he came to the bakery, I don’t really know him. I’m unable to read him because he’s so guarded. A closed book with high walls built around him.

I trust him only because Blaine does, and Jacob said he understands our situation, but I’m still curious as towhy.

“I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but why? It’s a lot of money to give to someone you don’t really know.”

He rubs the back of his neck, and for the first time, I see a hint of vulnerability.

“Growing up, my mom struggled with money. She worked three jobs so I could keep playing hockey, and she did everything she could to keep a roof over our heads, food on the table, and buy me hockey gear. Whatever she needed to do so I could keep playing.”

There’s a pang in my heart for young Ethan and his mom. I’ve never heard of this before, as he always shuts down any talks about his personal life in interviews, and there isn’t much on the internet apart from his youth hockey stats.

“I had no idea…”

He leads me around a corner to the players’ lounge, where large couches fill the space and several fridges are filled with any drink you could think of. Televisions mounted on the wall play different sports channels, and in the far corner, Elliot and Zach are playing a video game, but they’ve not heard us come in.

“It’s not something I talk about, but now, I have more money than I know what to do with. I’m set for life, and I give my mom whatever she needs because I want to show her how thankful I am for everything she’s done for me. So when Blaine mentioned your struggles, I wanted to help. I know how hard it is to be drowning in a never-ending spiral, and I’m separate enough that you wouldn’t feel trapped. Not that I think anything bad will happen between you and Blaine, but with me loaning the money, there wouldn’t be that element of pressure there that borrowing money from a loved one can bring.”

He sits down on one of the couches and pats the cushion next to him. I sit down, curling my legs underneath me.

“Thank you.” I smile. “For helping us out. It really means a lot.”

Ethan’s hard features turn soft as he smiles. “You’re welcome.” He bumps my shoulder with his and grins. “Just keep Blaine in check, eh? You really do bring the best out of him.”

* * *

“Blaine,you motherfucker! You didn’t tell me you were punching above your weight!”

I freeze on the spot when my eyes land on the blond-haired man who just called out to my boyfriend.

A familiar blond-haired man.

“You’re Hayden Cassidy,” I say in disbelief, finally picking my jaw off the floor.

I was never really a Boston fan growing up, but there was something so spectacular about Hayden Cassidy. He was one of hockey’s diamonds in the rough who didn’t get picked in the draft but ended up making the history books.

I turn to Blaine, slapping his chest with the back of my hand. “And you never told me that Hayden wastheHayden Cassidy.”

Blaine rubs his chest with his fingers. “H-how... What… What is going on right now?”

Hayden gives Blaine a wide, cocky grin that could rival his own.

Blue eyes glisten behind thick, black-rimmed glasses as he points his finger at me. “I like him.”

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