The Keeper: Chapter 10

“Hey, trouble,” Maddox says with his head buried in our fridge while he looks for something.

This is what he and Callen do. They let themselves inside our place, eat our food, drink our coffee, and occasionally steal our toilet paper. Spoiled babies. I’m not sure why we gave them a key.

“What are you doing here?” I grumble and steal his coffee from the counter, then spit it back in the mug. “How do you drink this black?”

He turns with a plastic to-go container in one hand and tugs the coffee away from me with the other. “Whatever. Why are you home? Don’t you have lessons or some shit?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry I’m here .” I pull myself up to sit on the counter and pour my own cup of coffee, then shove him back toward the fridge with the toe of my sneaker. “Where is everybody?”

“What’s with the kick?”

“Grab the Christmas-cookie creamer for me, please,” I push, and at least the little mooch gets it for me without being a pain in the ass.

He adds a ton to my coffee, grumbling about how I’m gonna be a diabetic one day. “Where’s everyone else?” I ask again before I look at the clock and realize just how late it actually is.

. I’ve got to get moving or I’ll be late for the lessons I teach at the rink.

“Brynlee just left. The rest of the girls were gone before I got here.” Something must catch Maddox’s eye because he stops and leans back to look up the stairs. “Got something to tell the class, trouble?”

“Nope,” I answer and sip my coffee, acting completely oblivious to the sound of Easton coming down the stairs.

Maddox looks between us when E walks into the kitchen and drops his bag on a stool. He reaches around me for the coffee with a handsome smirk on his face, and I feel my cheeks pink.

“Dude, stop. You two might as well have cartoon birds flying around your heads. What the hell?” Maddox groans, and Easton and I both laugh.

“You into cartoon birds, Mad?” I taunt. “I mean, your dad calls your mom Snow White. Is that like a kink for you now?”

Maddox’s face turns bright red before he points at me. “You’re fucking gross, trouble. My mom’s a saint. She doesn’t have a kink,” he argues, and I can’t stop the ridiculous laughter bubbling up.

“Oh my God. First, your mother, who happens to be my sister, is no saint,” I practically double over, unable to breathe because I’m laughing so hard. “But even better, I was talking about , you stooge. Not Amelia. I said had a kink. But I mean, if you want to think about what your parents do in bed, you do you, boo.”

I hop off the counter and pat his back. “See you later, madman.”

“I hate you, trouble,” he calls after me as I grab Easton and walk him to the door.

“He loves me,” I tell E before I run a hand down the front of his hoodie. “It’s December in Kroydon Hills, hockey boy. You may need to get a coat. Maybe even a hat,” I add dramatically.

“Want to go shopping with me when I get back? I’ll need all sorts of stuff for the condo too.” He cups my face with his hand, and goosebumps break out over my skin. “Maybe you’ll even let me take you to dinner.”

“I’d like that.”

He kisses my forehead as his thumb caresses my jaw. “See you soon, princess.”

“Try not to kill my brother while you’re gone, please,” I whisper, half serious.

“As you wish,” he tells me, and then he’s gone.

. I wasn’t expecting the wave of sadness that washes over me.

A week ago, I was furious with him, and now, I kinda don’t want him to go.

“As you wish,” Maddox snickers as he tries to sneak by me, and I smack the back of his head before he gets through the door. “Smart people are scared of me,” he taunts.

“

don’t know you peed the bed until you were six.” I slam the door shut behind him and giggle.

One day, he’s going to run the Philadelphia Mafia.

But right now, he’s just a pain in my ass.

I’m sitting on the team plane with my earbuds in and my eyes closed when I feel someone sit down in the seat beside me, so I crack an eye open, half expecting it to be Jace. It’s not him, but it’s not much better. His co-captain, Boone Dornan, is staring at me, waiting. For what, I’m not sure.

I lift my chin. “Boone.”

“Hayes. You feeling good about going against Atlanta?” he asks as he adjusts the seat.

“I’ve shut them down before. I’ll do it again.”

“We do things as a team in Philly. You’re not out there alone, you know.” I’m not sure if this guy is serious or if he’s giving me shit for being cocky.

“I hear you. You don’t have to worry about me. I’ve got no problem being a team player.”

“About that . . .” he drags out. “What the hell is going on with you and Kingston’s little sister? Because I’ve known him for a really long time, and he’s never been this big of a dick before.”

What the fuck?

“She’s my wife.”

Jace stands up from two rows in front of me and turns around, looking like he’s ready for round two. “She’s not your fucking wife, asshole. Drunken Vegas weddings don’t mean shit,” he yells as the guy next to him holds him back.

It’s gonna be a really fucking long week.

Once we get to the hotel in Atlanta, our room assignments are handed out, and keys are distributed before we’re given the schedule for the rest of the day. Some of the guys go to the conference room to grab food before we’re needed back on the bus, but I head right to my room. I need to get my head on straight before this game, and I can’t do that surrounded by a bunch of noise.

I played for the Vipers for a long damn time. My teammates and I had a rhythm on the ice. I could anticipate the plays.

Here, I haven’t had one practice with the Revolution where Jace Kingston didn’t spend most of it trying to get a slapshot off at my head.

News of the trade has been everywhere.

Interest is at an all-time high, and I don’t want to fuck this game up.

When I walk into the room, I drop down on one of the two queen beds. At least I’m sharing a room with Boone and not Jace. Apparently, Fitz thought it would be good for a captain to show me the ropes. More like it would look good to the rest of the team if both captains didn’t hate me.

My phone buzzes next to me, and I make the mistake of looking at it in case it’s Lindy. It’s not. Instead, Jules’s name is flashing.

I swipe my thumb across the screen, accepting her FaceTime. “Hey, Jules.”

“Look at that. You know how to answer your phone.”

I groan and sit up. “Come on. I stopped by the house twice before you went to DC. It’s not like I was avoiding you. How was I supposed to know you wouldn’t be home either time?”

“Well, if you’d have bothered to answer your phone, I could have told you I wouldn’t.” Her face softens. “I was hoping we’d get to talk before you flew out for the Atlanta game.”

“Can we not do this now? I’ve got to get ready for the game.”

Her face falls, and she plays with the pendant hanging from her necklace like she always does when she’s upset. “Can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead,” I grumble.

“Why do you think I’m mad at you? Haven’t I supported everything you’ve ever wanted to do? Even when you were little and I was living in Europe? Whenever your mom would call and tell me you were trying out something new, I was always the first person after her to cheer you on. I’d call, and we’d talk for hours about how excited you were. We don’t talk like that anymore, E.”

“I’m not a little kid anymore, Jules.” No matter how much I sometimes wish I could go back to when I was and my mom was still alive.

“No. You’re not. You’ve grown into a man I’m so incredibly proud of. A man any woman would be lucky to be loved by. So I’ve got to ask . . . do you love her, Easton? Did you marry Lindy because you love her or was it a drunken Vegas mistake?”

“That’s between Lindy and me, Jules.” I try to keep my tone calm, but I’m not sure I manage.

“Easton—”

“Do you think I’d marry Madeline Kingston if I didn’t love her?” I bite back, aggravated she’d even ask me that. “What the hell have I ever done to make you think so fucking little of me?”

“No,” she whispers. “I don’t. But I wouldn’t know that because you haven’t talked to me about it. I didn’t even know you got married. I had to find out when Ashlyn called me, losing her mind. The Kroydon Kronicles seems to know more than we do. So tell me, should we all be on baby watch like they’re reporting, Easton?”

“No, Juliette. Lindy’s not pregnant.” Not that I hate that idea. “And, okay, I’ll give you that one. You shouldn’t have had to find out that way. But we were still figuring things out,” I tell her.

“What’s there to figure out?” She brings the phone closer to her face as she moves around her office.

“Well, for starters, she doesn’t remember the wedding. She and Everly thought pounding champagne would be a great way to celebrate afterward, and Lindy’s not much of a drinker. So the night’s a blur for her.”

“Oh . . . That’s not good.”

“No, it’s not. But she wasn’t drunk when she married me. Neither of us were. We’d had a few drinks, but we weren’t that bad. Then there’s the fact we kinda went about all of this . We’re trying to reset.”

Jules sits down at her desk and switches me over to her laptop. “What do you mean reset?”

“We didn’t date. We went from what we had”—which I’m not about to discuss with Juliette—“to married. She wants me to woo her.”

“Oh, for the love of God. Seriously? She said ?”

“Yeah. Why?” I ask, not liking the sound of that.

“Let’s just say she’s more like her brother than she probably even realizes. I hope you’ve got a plan because these Kingstons can be a real pain in the ass.”

“I do,” I tell her just before the door to the hotel room opens, and Boone and Jace walk in. “I gotta go, Jules.”

“Hey, Jules,” Jace calls out, sugary sweet when he hears her name.

Too bad I want to punch him in the face.

“Jace Kingston,” Jules yells. “You little shit. If you so much as—”

I end the call before she can finish her sentence and pocket my phone.

Guess Jules wants to punch him too.

Boone’s smile grows as he looks at the phone. “Dude. Is your mom the hot supermodel?”

“No, asshole. She’s my cousin,” I growl.

He smacks my back and drops down onto the bed where I was just lying. “Cool. Guess we’re at the nickname stage of our relationship already. Can I call you little Kingston?”

“I’m not a Kingston.”

“He’s not a Kingston,” Jace says at the same time as me.

“Chill, guys. I was kidding. It would be pretty gross if you were, and you still married his little sister. I mean, I’m pretty open-minded, but that crosses a line. Okay, how about I call you cradle robber?”

“Boone,” Jace warns.

“I kid.

Fine. I’m just trying to lighten the mood. You two have to put this shit behind you before either of you get on the ice tonight. We can’t have our captain and our goalie ready to fight each other instead of the other team.”

My damn phone vibrates again, only this time it’s Lindy’s face on my screen. It’s a selfie she took of us kissing at the chapel the other night, then set as my contact for her. And instead of her name, flashes there. Damn. I wonder what she’d do if she knew she did that.

Jace sees it too and grumbles, “Go on and answer. I’ll wait.”

“Yeah, I bet you will.” I take a few steps away and answer, “Hey, princess.”

“Fucking hell,” Jace bitches.

“Hey, hockey boy.” Her smile lights up her face. “I got my present. Thank you.”

“Real original. Already resorting to buying her love?” her asshole brother trash-talks.

“Was that Jace?” Lindy asks, her smile gone.

“Yeah. Boone’s here too,” I tell her and watch her eye twitch.

“Can you put Jace on the phone please?”

He takes the phone from my hand, his chest puffed up like a fucking peacock who just got exactly what he wanted. “Nobody should have to buy your love, Lindy.”

“My husband sent me his jersey so I could wear it tonight while I watch the game, you big bully. He knew I wouldn’t want to keep wearing your name and number, not now that I know what a jerk you are.”

God, I love this woman.

“Kingston is your name too, kid,” Jace chastises.

“Not for long. Maybe I’m going to take Hayes as my last name. It sure looks nice on a Revolution jersey. Nicer than Kingston. Now put my husband back on the phone and go away unless you want to hear me tell him exactly what I’m going to do to him when he gets home, wearing this jersey and absolutely nothing else.”

Jace’s face grows red with mortification mixed with outrage, and Boone’s lights up with excitement. “Dude, yes. I wanna hear.”

“Shut the fuck up before I break your face too, Boone.” Jace shoves Boone to the door before I even get the chance to lose my shit.

“Bus leaves in ten minutes, Hayes. Don’t be late,” Jace warns before he slams the door shut behind himself.

“Princess, you can’t say stuff like that in front of your brother.”

“Yeah, but his reaction was worth it.” She moves in front of the mirror in her hall and angles the phone so I can see my name and number eighty-eight on the back of her jersey. “But I really do like my present. Not that I’m some needy little bitch who wants you to buy her things. This was just very thoughtful.”

“Don’t thank me too much. I might have had an ulterior motive for buying it.” I run my tongue over my lip and picture her on her knees. Basically, the image she just scarred her brother with.

“Oh yeah? What was your motive?”

“You’re so fucking pretty, princess.”

“Easton . . .” she protests, and I wonder if she even knows how pretty she is.

“You’re mine, Madeline Hayes. And I want the whole world, including you, to know it. I thought a great way to start would be with my name on your back. And I may have a fantasy or two that start with you in my jersey.”

“Oh yeah . . . ? Where . . . where do they stop, E?” Lindy’s eyes flash wide with heat, and I know I hit the mark.

“You gonna watch the game tonight?”

She nods her head but doesn’t say anything.

Hopefully, too busy thinking about what I just said.

“I’ll call you afterward and tell you how the fantasy goes.”

She takes a minute to collect herself, then slides her mask in place. The one she uses when she’s on display for the world. The one I hate. “Have a good game, hockey boy.”

“I’ll talk to you after we win, wife.”