Page 1 of Sticking Out

1

Conner

Two Years Ago:

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Body tired, and head hurting from a hangover, I roll over in bed and glare at my buzzing phone. Whoever is calling can fuck right off. I’m not only hurting from drinking too much last night, but we just lost the Eastern Conference playoffs against Pittsburgh in the seventh game, and anyone who knows me knows better than to be calling today.

“Fuck off.” I grumble and roll over, closing my eyes when my damn phone finally stops buzzing. Just when I’m about to doze off, my phone starts screaming at me all over again. “Shit.” I reach out and grab my phone. When I see that it’s my brother, I slide my finger across the screen, and grunt out, “This better be important.”

“Hey, sorry about the playoffs.” There’s sincerity in his voice, but there’s something else there as well, something that has me forgetting all about my hangover and sitting up in bed.

“Yeah, is that why you called?”

“No, uh…” A giggle sounds in the background, and when I hear my brother’s muffled words, I realize he’s covering the phone. Whatever is going on, he doesn’t want me to hear, and I’m not sure I want to either, because I know he’s on a work trip, away from home—away from his wife. The hairs on the back of my neck lift and I sit up straighter, checking the time as my heart jumps into my throat. “What’s going on?” I ask, even though I’m not certain I want an answer.

“Listen…” His voice is clear again. “I need you to do me a favor.”

Unease grips my stomach. “What kind of favor?”

“I was supposed to be home today, but I got tied up in New York.”

Tied up?

More giggles sound, and my brain starts racing. My brother, who I adore and respect more than any other human on this planet, is a hockey scout for Harvard, and travels to numerous high schools across the country. If he’s tied up in New York, it had better not be with some girl.

“Alec?”

“Yeah, listen.” He clears his throat. Probably to cover up the rustling noises in the background, and I don’t even want to think about what or who is making them. “Dani has an ultrasound appointment today. I was supposed to take her, but I can’t make it. I called and she’s not feeling so great. Would you mind taking her for me?”

“Who are you with?” I growl, pinching the bridge of my nose as I try to clear the fog from my brain.

He snorts out a laugh, but I know him well enough to realize it’s his way of stalling. “It’s nothing.”

I resist the urge to blurt out—how the fuck can it be nothing? My brother is married to the most amazing woman on the planet, and she’s pregnant with his child. I must be wrong. I must be hearing things. Yeah, the alcohol and partying must be messing with my brain. “Alec. What the fuck, man? What’s happening?”

“Come on, bro. It’s nothing. Just cleaning the pipes.” More giggling bubbles through the phone. “You know Dani hasn’t been feeling well lately, right?”

Really, that’s his fucking justification for cheating? Anger, rage, and every other hostile emotion—that I’ve never felt toward my brother in my life—wells up inside me.

“No way, Alec. You’re telling me your wife hasn’t been putting out because she’s pregnant and not well, and this is how you treat her?” How could he do this? This is the man who always stood up for me when I was a kid. He was protective and caring and beat the crap out of the other kids when they made fun of me because I couldn’t read.

Conner Birch, thick as wood, dumb as a stump. Oh yeah, that’s how they taunted me as they knocked on their heads like their heads were made of hardwood. If Alec is a protector by nature, as I’ve always known him to be, why isn’t he protecting Dani when she needs it most? Fuck, if she were my wife, I’d run barefoot over glass if she needed me to.

“Just do me this one favor, bro.” His voice is a little more labored, breathless, and my stomach turns, not wanting to think about why. “I’ll be home tomorrow.”

My head pounds harder as my blood runs cold. “You should stop what you’re doing and come home now.” I glance around my room as my vision clears—in more ways than one. Sure, I’ve had my head down and my blades on the ice, focused solely on my career for a while now, but how did I not see this coming? Maybe I could have done something, said something to him to stop this from happening.

“Will you do this for me or not?”

There’s a hardness tinging his voice now, and while it’s a simple question, I realize it’s also a loaded one. Panic grips my stomach. Jesus. I’m now responsible for keeping his secret. I swallow the bile pushing into my throat.

“Jesus, bro. How old is she?”

“Old enough. I’m not an idiot.”

While that is debatable, I shake my head and kick off my blankets. “What time is the appointment?” I’m supposed to meet up with Summer, the girl I’ve been seeing for the last six months, later this afternoon. She’s a sophomore at Boston College and we met after a game one night. She’s not a bunny, although she is a bit younger than me, and has a thing for llamas. Like a real weird thing for llamas. She has blankets, stuffed toys, and mugs with llamas on them. Hell, she even has llamas on her panties. Maybe I’ll get to see that up close and personal later.

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