Page 123 of Goaltender Interference

Connor glared at Kelly across the red line as they skated toward their respective tunnels.

Kelly grinned, calling out, “See you at O’Neill’s, losers!” with a wave of his stick.

Connor gritted his teeth.

Ugh. Brothers were the worst.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

“You doing okay?” Pat hooked an arm around Connor’s neck, dragging him away from the bar at O’Neill’s Pub later that night. “You seem a little tightly wound tonight, brother.”

Connor attempted to shrug him off with little luck. Pat had always been stronger than him, damn it. Connor could probably get away if he really put his back into it but that would spill his beer.

“I’m under a lot of fucking pressure this season,” Connor muttered.

“That’s hockey,” Pat said, tone philosophical. He dragged Connor off to a booth and shoved him into it. He bumped up against Finn, who shot him a sidelong glance, then returned to the conversation he was having with their father.

Pat settled into the spot across from Connor, giving him alook. Connor suppressed a sigh. Pat didn’t get it and he never would.

It really, really didn’t help that Evanston had won tonight. After the retirement of several of their key players, the team hadseveral rough seasons in a row, with a mediocre start to this one. Of course they’d had their bounce back tonight of all nights.

Connor hadn’t gotten a single goal tonight either.Pathetic.

Poor Jesse. He’d looked despondent after too, muttering to himself about the goals he’d let in until Connor settled a hand on the back of his sweaty neck and ordered him to take a few deep breaths.

He had, but he still seemed agitated now as he stood by the bar, talking animatedly to Tanner about something.

Connor was doing his best to ignore him. It was either that or drag him off to the bathroom to have a “talk” but considering how that had gone the last time, Connor probably shouldn’t chance it.

Especially not with so many nosy family members around. The O’Shea family hadn’t rented out the pub, but between them and the team, plus a handful of guys from the Otters, they probably made up ninety percent of the patrons.

After Jesse got his drink—some fruity cocktail that looked colorful and unthreatening but probably contained twice the alcohol of Connor’s stout—he sauntered over to the nearby table of Otters’ guys, Tanner in his wake.

They were greeted with cheers and Connor frowned, wondering what that was about, when he realized who was seated at the table: Gabriel Theriault, Trevor Underhill, Shane Hurst, and Kelly.

The LGBTQ+ guys.

Connor bit down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep from swearing. He didn’t mind Jesse hanging out with them, but it hit him suddenly that he belonged at that table too.

He didn’t necessarilyfeellike one of them, but he was really no different.

Except Jesse—and Viv, he reminded himself—were the only ones who knew.

Everyone else saw him as the straight, divorced father. The kind of guy who’d go on to marry some nice woman. Probably someone with a child or two of her own, or someone who didn’t have kids yet, but either way would love his children like they were hers. But Connor didn’twantsome woman. No matter how sweet she was. No matter how good with his kids.

He was perfectly content with his ridiculous chaos demon of a goaltender who drove him insane and made him a thousand times happier than he’d been for most of his marriage.

But he had a hard time believing someone like Jesse would be willing to settle for someone like him.

“Christ, I was hoping Nolan would take after Viv but it turns out he’s just like you,” Pat said.

Connor snapped his head up. “What?”

“Nolan’s a moody bastard like his father.” Pat gave him another pointed look.

“He’s ateenager,” Connor protested. “It’s the hormones.”

“So what’s your excuse?” Finn shot back.

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