Page 63 of The Keeper

“Okay. Then you need to deal with the family when you get back to Kroydon Hills.”

“Come on, can’t you let me just enjoy tonight? I’ve already dealt with Max. Let that be enough for one day,” I beg, not in the mood for another lecture.

“Lindy... Easton hit Jace in the locker room. I don’t know exactly what happened, but I had to make sure Jace didn’t have a cracked jaw. And I totally heard Coach Fitz give Jace and Easton hell. It was bad.”

Just then my brother skates over to us and bangs against the boards. “Hey, sis.”

“Jace Joseph Kingston. You dick. Why’s your jaw bruised?” I demand, and the fucker skates away from me backward with a shrug, like he can’t hear me. “I’m gonna kill him.”

The music changes, and the guys start to skate over toward the bench.

Brynlee squeezes my hand. “I’ve got to get back. You need help finding your seat?”

“Nope. I’m good. See you at home when you get back.”

“K.”

I take a step back as Easton smacks the glass between us.

I kiss my hand and line it up with his. “Kick ass, baby.”

EASTON

“Dude, your wife is a fucking smoke show, Hayes.” One of the younger guys on the team taps my stick as we skate out into a line for the national anthem, his eyes locked on Lindy, and I can’t even be annoyed. She’s fucking gorgeous, standing behind the goal, her eyes locked on me.

“Watch it, asshole.” Jace glares when he stops next to me. “That’s my little sister.”

“Shit. Sorry, Cap.”

Jace ignores him and turns my way. “She’s wearing your jersey.”

“Yeah, she is.” I don’t even care if it pisses him off.

“She’s worn my jersey since the day I was drafted,” he grumbles. But something about it doesn’t sound as pissed now as it did earlier.

I glance over to him as the singer moves to center ice. “Husband trumps brother.”

“Not even sorry about that, are you?” he taunts.

“Not even a little fucking bit,” I bite back just before the anthem starts, and we all stop talking. Time to win a game.

* * *

There’s an electricity in the locker room after our win that’s ratcheted up a notch by the fact it was a shutout against a team that’s been killing it all season. Reporters are looking to get soundbites they can take back, and I’m not in the mood to talk just yet. I’m new to this team and don’t need any egos getting bruised if they try to make the win all about the shutout. But even taking extra time in the showers doesn’t do the trick this time. As soon as I walk over to my locker, one of the reporters I recognize stops me.

“Easton. How does it feel to win your second game with the Revolution? Do you think the team is gelling?”

“Yeah, man. We’re gelling, and it feels great. I’m just trying to find my place among the incredible players on this team. So far, so good,” I tell him and reach for my bag, ready to get dressed and get out.

“There have been rumors that you and the captain, Jace Kingston, have some bad blood between you. Any truth to the rumors?”

Before I can answer him, Jace joins in and throws an arm around my shoulder. An arm I can’t shrug the fuck off in front of a camera. The two of us stand there—me with a still noticeable bruise from my black eye and him with a fresh blueish-purple bruise on his jaw from earlier.

“Alex, Alex, Alex,” Jace placates the reporter. “I’ve known Easton since he was in high school. He’s a damn good goalie. Pretty sure tonight speaks for itself. There’s no bad blood between us.”

“So, Jace, tell me. What did you get Easton and your sister for their wedding then?” Alex pushes with a slight edge to his voice. He knows we’re full of shit. And he wants to be the reporter to prove it.

Jace laughs and looks at me, suddenly serious.

---