Puck Block : A Brother’s Best Friend Hockey Romance (Bexley U)

I sit in silence while Emory scarfs down a cheeseburger and fries from across the table. I’ve hidden something from him twice now, both times regarding Taytum, and after she and I have our team meeting, I’m going to be hiding a whole lot more.

“Why did you want to come here if you aren’t going to eat?” Emory wipes his mouth on the back of his hand.

I glance to my untouched plate and pull a handful of fries into my hand. I stuff them in my mouth and flip my hands. “Better?” I ask through a mouthful of mushy potatoes.

His eyebrows knit together, and although he has darker features than his sister, they look identical at the moment. They both send me the same look often–as if they’re sick of my antics.

“Y’all ready for the game tomorrow?”

I glance at Rush, Bexley U’s star football player, as he sits down in the booth behind Emory, waiting for our answer.

It’s been a thrilling season. There was drama on the team at the beginning of the year from both our captain and co-captain, but now, it’s time for us to come together to win the Frozen Four. And, you know, land our own spots playing pro, like Theo did. As long as we keep our heads down and continue on our winning streak, it’ll put the majority of us on the path to securing our futures.

“We’re ready,” I answer, watching him scoot over so a few more guys can slide into his booth. “You got a bye week?”

“Yeah, we play Wilder U next week, though. They’re almost as good as us.” He shrugs. “If I were to join their team, they’d be unstoppable.”

Emory snickers. “And here I thought hockey players were cocky…”

The waitress comes over and starts to take their orders, but she stops mid-sentence, and I turn to see her wrap Claire in a big hug. Taytum is standing beside her, buried in her phone, likely ignoring me and Emory on purpose.

I scoot over. “Well, come on. This food isn’t going to eat itself.”

Taytum glances up from her phone, and her eyes widen at my plate with a mound of french fries. She immediately sits and reaches for one.

“Don’t even think about it,” Emory seethes.

I can feel her anger, even though we aren’t touching.

One fry isn’t going to affect her blood sugar that much, yet Emory scolds her anyway. He asks her to list off all the carbs she’s had today before naming better menu options. In the middle of his itemizing, she quickly looks at me, and her eyebrows draw together, as if she’s proving a point to me. She doesn’t need to, though. After she pointed her frustrations out to me the other night—in a rather dramatic way—I’m fully aware of the problem.

I clear my throat and nod to the booth behind Emory. “You know that guy?”

Emory spins, and I quickly snag a couple of fries and turn to Taytum. I put my hand on the back of her neck and stuff them inside her mouth. A smothered laugh leaves her before she smashes her lips together to hide the evidence.

When her brother turns back around, he shifts his attention between the two of us, but Taytum looks back to her phone and chews her fries subtly.

“The dark-haired guy?” he asks.

I nod, because there is no wrong answer at this point. I made the whole thing up as a distraction.

“That’s Rush’s brother,” Emory says.

Taytum’s head pops up so fast I feel a breeze. The smallest amount of possessiveness plants itself into the pit of my stomach, and I watch the exact moment Rush’s brother makes eye contact with her. His eyes light up, and Taytum’s cheeks turn pink.

I put my hand on her leg and dig my fingers into her thigh to bring her back down. If Emory gets wind of what I walked in on the other night, he’ll be irate and do something much stupider than me picking her up and telling him she is off-limits.

That’s part of the reason I’m always the one to step in when Taytum plays her little games. I’m much more level-headed than her older brother.

Emory moves his attention to Taytum, and I move mine to Rush’s brother.

I hear Emory as he talks to Taytum. “You okay? You look flushed or something.” I stare right ahead. Cruz’s gaze moves to mine, and I shake my head. Don’t.

“Tay?”

I turn to Taytum, and her neck is becoming splotchy. She swallows the last bit of fries I shoved in her mouth, and I tap her leg a few times.

Chill. 

A breath leaves her, and she pushes my hand off her leg. “I’m fine.” She rolls her eyes at her brother. “Jeez.”

Emory snorts. “Whatever. You ready, bro?”

I gesture to my food. “I’m not even close to being done.”

“Well, I’m out. We’ve got a game tomorrow, and don’t even try to pull that bullshit tonight about pre-game rituals. I’ve got my own rituals to do.”

Taytum pretends to puke because we all know what his rituals consist of. Emory pairs his smirk with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“You got her?” He tips his chin to his sister.

“Always.” I take my elbow and ram it gently into Taytum’s ribs. She smacks my arm away and scoffs.

“Later,” he says before leaning down to Taytum. “Oh, and stop eye-fucking the guy behind me.”

Taytum’s mouth pops open, and I laugh under my breath. Her cheeks turn an even darker shade of red. When he’s gone, she snaps over to me. “Did you tell him?”

I’m quick to prove a point. “Is he still alive?”

She rolls her pretty eyes. “Good point.”

I nudge her with my knee. “Go sit where Emory was sitting.”

“Why? Don’t want to sit next to me?” she teases.

I grab another fry, but instead of stuffing it in my mouth, I stuff it in hers. I smirk when her eyes widen. “That’s to get you to shut up.” She glares at me while chewing. “And I want you over there so you quit eye-fucking Cruz.”

“This isn’t going to work,” she murmurs. Regardless, she slides away from me and into the opposite side of the booth. “I can’t even look at a guy without you acting like a caveman.”

I wag my finger at her after placing my water down on the table. She steals it and sucks the rest of it through the straw. Her throat bobs up and down with a slow swallow as she waits for my rebuttal, but I hesitate.

Because, is this going to work?

A very recent and vivid memory appears in my head of her with tears in her eyes, desperate for my help. “It’s going to work, but you’ve gotta sign this first.”Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

I lift a hip, pull out a piece of paper, and slide it across the table. My hand stays on it when Rush and his brother pile out of their booth. I keep my gaze glued to Cruz as he slowly walks past and glances at Taytum. When she peers up at him and bats her eyelashes, I kick her under the table.

She gasps. “Oww!”

“Eyes on me, and pay attention.”

Her eyebrows knit together, and I almost snap my fingers at her when she peers past my head and watches him leave The Bex.

“You done?” I seem impatient, but really, I’m just irritated that she’s showing interest in someone other than me at the moment.

Taytum sighs and shoves my hand off the paper. She flips it over, scans it for a second, then laughs under her breath. “Are you kidding me? Did you get this idea from Theo?”

I tap my temple and shoot her a crooked smile. “I’ve got a good memory. I saw the little list Claire gave him when they became roommates. It had you written all over it. I thought it was only fair to set some of our own rules.”

She concentrates on the list.

Ford’s Rules:

1. No fucking hockey players

2. No sexting hockey players

3. No flirting with hockey players

4. Ford Gets Full approval over who taytum chooses to pursure and when

The paper crumples in Taytum’s grip, and when she looks up at me, I have to force myself to keep it together.

Okay, fine. They’re a little extreme, but they’re also necessary.

I tap on the paper. “If you want to do this behind Emory’s back, then you’re gonna have to follow these rules.”

Taytum tucks some hair behind her ear and reads the list once more before getting up to head over to her best friend. Claire is at the bar, chatting with some of her co-workers, and I can’t help but watch Taytum’s swinging hips for the entire walk. Claire gives her a pen, and then she’s marching back over to me.

We keep eye contact the entire time, and when she’s done scribbling on the paper, she pushes it back to me and curls her mouth.

Ford’s Rules:

1. No fucking hockey players – didn’t want to in the first place.

2. No sexting hockey players – fine.

3. No flirting with hockey players – we’ll see.

4. Ford gets full approval over who Taytum chooses to pursue and when

 “Then I’m not helping you.” I’m as matter-of-fact as they come. “That last one is the most important rule on the list.”

Taytum sits up a little taller. “I’m not letting you pick my boyfriends for me. That’s practically the same as it is now!”

I shrug. “Well, I’m not willing to let some guy fuck you and never talk to you again.”

She slaps the table but lowers her voice when she realizes people are looking at us. “What if that’s what I want?”

I shake my head. “It’s not.”

She’s annoyingly cute when she pouts. Her lip juts forward, and her arms cross even tighter against her chest. “And how many one-night stands have you had, Ford Alexander?”

My name rolls off her tongue with distaste–yet, I still enjoy the sound of it. “That’s different.”

“No, it’s not,” Claire adds as she sits down beside her best friend.

“No, no, no,” I start, wagging my finger. “I’m not about to go up against both of you. Go on and get.” I point behind me to the door, and it’s no surprise that she doesn’t listen.

“Stop being crazy, Ford. She just wants to be a normal college student.”

I purse my lips. “You mean like you? Fake dating the hockey captain? Because that’s normal.”

Claire’s mouth opens wide. “Fake dating him was your idea!”

Oh, right. 

Taytum grabs the paper after Claire makes me feel stupid and rips it in two. They both laugh, and I scowl.

“Your rules are stupid,” Taytum says.

My immaturity gets the best of me, and instead of having some witty comeback, all I can think to say is, “Well…you’re stupid.”

Taytum laughs out loud at my lack of creativity, which causes me to chuckle.

Claire pops out of the booth and taps the table with her fingers. “Well, good luck, you two.”

Then, it’s just Taytum and me, all alone and at an impasse.

I lean back, spread my legs out under the table, and knee her to get her attention. She’s nibbling on her bottom lip, and I’m reminded again that, although she appears so damn confident with her perfect looks and assured struts around campus, she’s actually inexperienced and a little self-conscious after her diagnosis. A little sad too.

Fuck. 

“Okay, fine,” I snap. “Scratch the last rule…but the others still stand. No hockey players, because this is already crossing a line. If Emory knows I’m in on this or covering for you…”

Her eyes light up at my acceptance, and she nods with excitement.

Taytum could have any guy she comes into contact with, and it’s partly my fault that she can’t see that. Stepping in line with Emory and taking on the role of protective older brother was the easiest route for me to take when we were younger. If I wasn’t allowed to pursue her, no one was.

It’s going to be difficult to pull myself out of that role, but I’m going to keep my word.

I’m going to back off—a little. 

I’m going to give her some breathing room.

That doesn’t mean I have to like it, though.

“Emory won’t find out,” she assures me. “It’s not like I’m going to let some guy fuck me in front of him.”

Something hot slashes the back of my neck with thoughts of her beneath some guy.

“Come on,” I say, after putting money down on the table for the bill. “I have a hot date tomorrow with my hockey stick and a little black puck.”

The tiniest dimple pops out on Taytum’s cheek, and I drape my arm over her shoulders. When we make it to my car, she peers up at me, and I see the real her—the vulnerable one without a hint of anger or irritation.

“Thanks, Ford.”

I open her door, and she climbs inside my car. “For what?”

She smiles softly, and it’s like looking at a ray of sunshine. “For listening to me. And for understanding.”

The feeling I get when she looks at me like that is enough to make me panic. I slam the door in her face and curse under my breath.

Taytum is going to end up putting me in my grave.