Watch Your Mouth: A Brother’s Best Friend Hockey Romance (Kings of the Ice)

Now

Grace

Waking up the morning after a breakup felt a lot like waking up the morning after stupidly throwing back seven tequila shots in a row.

And I knew that from experience.

My head pounded as I winced and pushed myself up in bed, my stomach aching from being empty and yet roiling at the thought of food. I pressed my fingertips to my eyes next, feeling how they were still puffy and dry from all the crying.

I hated crying.

It was gross and uncomfortable, too many bodily fluids and involuntary breathing patterns for my liking. I rarely allowed myself to succumb to it. But last night, I hadn’t had a choice.

Stupid boys.

I half-wondered if I had what it took to become a nun as I groaned and threw the covers off me, and then I padded barefoot and nearly blind to the bathroom, peeing and splashing water on my face.

I didn’t know what time it was. I assumed early, since the sun was flirting with the horizon, but I didn’t check my phone before making my way downstairs.

The house was quiet, Maven and Vince still sleeping, and I tiptoed through the living room, slowly and quietly sliding the back door open before shutting it behind me again.

My soul sighed when the first bit of salty air washed over my skin.

Every breath came easier as I made my way toward the water, the sun rising lazily behind me and slowly turning the water a brilliant turquoise. I sat my ass right in the sand, toes wiggling down into the cooler grains underneath the first layer, the briny smell of the ocean soothing my frazzled nerves and the breeze kissing my cheeks.

I instantly felt more grounded as I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply.

But that didn’t change the fact that my life was a fucking mess.

I wanted to laugh at how pathetic I was, torn up over a guy who told me from the first time we met that he wasn’t looking for anything serious. Except the laugh wouldn’t come, not when my heart reminded me that his actions had completely combatted those words.

Trent had spent nearly every day with me, texting me nonstop when we weren’t together. Any time we were together felt very much like we were in a relationship. He didn’t just call me at two in the morning when he wanted to fuck. He took me to concerts. He talked to me all night until the sun came up. We cuddled on nights we could have spent having sex. We did cooking classes together, for God’s sake.

The motherfucker even had the audacity to learn my favorite song on guitar and play it by the fire on a starry night when we were camping by the lake.

All those wonderful things made me want to fall for him, and perhaps that was what upset me most. In theory, the things we’d done, the time we’d spent together… it all should have led to me being madly in love with him. It should have me gutted here on this beach at the fact that I’d lost him.

But when he’d dropped me — cutting off all ties as if I’d never existed, as if I’d died and he’d wiped his hands clean — I’d almost felt like I was pretending to be hurt by it.

The truth was I’d actually expected it.

And that was what hurt most — not that I’d lost Trent the Camping Guy, but because I was tossed aside so easily. It was a move that had burrowed down deep into the recesses of my long-buried insecurities.

It reminded me that I’m forgettable, and never anyone’s first choice.

The whininess of it made me dig the heels of my palms into my eyes, and I shook my head, letting out a frustrated groan before I blew out another long, steady breath.

I breathed in.

I breathed out.

Inhale.

Exhale.

And then, I dropped my hands from my eyes and looked around at the beauty before me.

I noted the cotton candy sky, pink and orange from the sun rising over the other coast of Florida. I noted the sand beneath my toes, the breeze wafting through my hair, the seagulls croaking out their good mornings as they swept the sky. I pressed a hand to my chest and felt where my lungs still worked, where my heart was still beating, my blood still warm.

And I smiled.

I was here.

I was alive.

I had a beautiful life ahead of me, just waiting for me to get started.

I didn’t have time to mourn the loss of a man who clearly wasn’t thinking twice about me, one who I wasn’t even sure I missed, anyway.

And I didn’t want to waste another second doing so.

A fierce, rolling ache in my chest protested, as if my body was telling me I needed to take a moment to feel sad.

But I fucking hated being sad. Life was too damn short to be sad.

Once, at a yoga training I took shortly after college, a kind woman named Marta, with silver hair and a belly button piercing, warned me that all those emotions I didn’t take the time to feel had to go somewhere. She also said that they usually coiled themselves tight in areas like my hips.

So, I stood, moving into a gentle yoga flow as I shoved every emotion even remotely resembling melancholy into whatever crevice I could find.

We all had a choice. Every day we woke up, we could think of all the things we didn’t have, and everything we’d lost, and every area we felt our lives were lacking. We could focus on where we fell short, where we could do more or be more.

Or, we could choose gratitude.

We could choose to focus on everything we did have, on all we were fortunate to experience, on everything around us that was beautiful and good.

We could choose new chapters and new beginnings.

We could choose to be happy.

And that’s exactly what I did.

I’d no sooner flopped back down in the sand before my phone buzzed, and I frowned at the unknown number on my screen before reading the text.

Unknown: I’ve secured the getaway car.

I frowned, but then recognition had my stomach flipping.

Jaxson Brittain.

I just knew it was him, and I sat back enough to lift my feet and kick them in the air like a little girl being told she was going to Disney World.

I didn’t take him too seriously when he offered a road trip last night, especially when he came back to the house after playing golf with the guys and saw how Vince fawned over me being upset.

My brother had cooked my favorite meal — beef and cheese pasties with ketchup — and then peppered me with questions at the dining table full of his teammates. He’d immediately followed me up to my room afterward to talk one on one and make sure I was okay.

It was honestly really sweet, and I loved my brother, but fuck, he was a cockblock.

There was no way Jaxson and I could have even walked into the kitchen alone last night, let alone hopped in a car together. And when he left at the end of the night, I filed that interaction in my room earlier in the cabinet labeled jokes and put it out of my mind.

Even if I was oddly disappointed, I wasn’t surprised. I figured he’d come to his senses.

Seeing his text now had me hoping I was wrong.

Me: Took you long enough to text me.

Jaxson: Yeah, well, I couldn’t exactly text you with your brother sitting right next to me.

Me: What’s your excuse for the other two weeks?

Jaxson: I was a smart man who didn’t want to die at a young age.

Jaxson: Besides — you had a boyfriend, remember?

I snorted at that.

Me: So, now you’re a stupid man with no regard for life?

The little dots bounced for a while, telling me he was typing, and then they disappeared. I frowned when another text didn’t come through, disappointment settling in deeper the longer I went without a response.

I chastised myself.

Fucking really, Grace? Have you not learned your lesson that boys are stupid and you’re better off alone?

This was classic me — running headfirst into the next guy who showed me attention before the stench from the one who came before him was gone.

I was so desperate to be someone’s priority, it made me a simpering fool.

My phone buzzed as soon as I’d set it face-down on my bare thigh, and at first, I told myself not to look at it, to make him wait.

But then I was fumbling the thing like a hot potato and unlocking it hastily.

Jaxson: Now, I’m your friend who hates to see you upset.

Friend.

I slumped a little, but then another text came through.

Jaxson: Get an Uber to this address.

A map location came through next.

Me: So bossy.

Jaxson: For obvious reasons, I can’t pick you up there.

Me: Why not, if we’re just friends?

Jaxson: Get your ass over here before I change my mind.

I stared at the text, biting my lip against a little laugh as I thought about all the reasons this was probably a terrible idea. And still, I scrambled to my feet and dashed inside to pack.

Because if there was one thing about me, it was that I never said no to a new adventure.

• • •

“So, let me get this straight,” I said about an hour later, pointing at the sexiest car I’d ever seen in my entire life.

I didn’t even know what it was, exactly — other than some kind of vintage Porsche. But I did know it was blueberry blue, shiny, and sleek as hell. It gave off every road trip vibe I could ever dream of, like riding windows-down through the desert with your hand waving out the window and Fleetwood Mac playing on the old radio.

But it was tucked away safely inside Jaxson’s garage, not sitting in the driveway ready to go like it should have been.

“This is your car, but we’re taking… that?”

I dragged my finger over to the 2023 G-wagon, wrinkling my nose as if it were a minivan.

Jaxson crossed his arms on a chuckle. He looked sleepy, like he’d just woken up or hadn’t had a cup of coffee yet. He was also wearing glasses — which I hadn’t known he needed, and also hadn’t known would do very specific things to my nether regions.

Those amber crystal frames unlocked his sharp features even more somehow.

They also unlocked a new kink for me, apparently.

“I’ve never seen someone so displeased to be riding in a Benz,” he said.

“Well, given the choice between the two?” I gestured between them again. “I mean, come on. This car was made for road trips.”

“Actually, this car was made by hours and hours of restoring,” he amended, petting the hood like it was a cat instead of a car. “And I’m not putting it on a highway, adding miles with no destination in mind. It wouldn’t be the safest option, anyway. Plus, this one’s a rental,” he added, pointing to the Mercedes. “That way, we don’t have to worry about driving back if we go too far. We can just fly home.”

I pouted, eyes back on the cobalt beauty. “But it’s so pretty.”

Jaxson beamed a little at that. “She is, isn’t she?”

“She? Oh, God. You’re one of those. Next, you’ll tell me she has a name.”

He blinked. “You don’t name your car?”

“I don’t have one,” I said on a laugh, shaking my head and dragging my suitcase over to the Benz. “So, no.”

“How do you not have a car?”

“I don’t need one. Not right now, anyway. Besides, I’ve got my eyes set on a camper van.”

Jaxson opened his mouth to respond, but then ran over when he saw me trying unsuccessfully to heave my suitcase into the luxury SUV. He nudged me out of the way to do it himself, and then grunted as he tossed the behemoth into the back.

“Good God, woman. What do you have in there?”

“Basically everything I own,” I admitted. “I’m in a nomadic state of mind, just going where the wind blows me.”

I hoped I made it sound cool that I didn’t have a home, like that was what I wanted, like it was a choice I made. Look at me! A wild child living by each passing moment, never knowing what will happen next. The truth rested more in the fact that I didn’t know where the hell I wanted to be.

I’d graduated from college at Michigan in May, a task I completed only because my parents made me. I hadn’t wanted to go for multiple reasons, starting with the fact that I wasn’t exactly academically motivated, and ending with the bold-print bullet point that I didn’t know what I wanted to do with the rest of my life at the ripe old age of eighteen.

I didn’t understand why that was shocking to the world, but it was, and my parents had taken their eyes off Vince just long enough to tell me that if I wanted my trust fund, I had to go to college and get a degree.

So, I picked something random with the least amount required of me and ticked that off the list.

I was now the not-very-proud owner of a Bachelor of Arts degree in Philosophy.

As much as I was a little shit about it, I was very thankful for my parents, for that fund they’d put back for me. It wasn’t enough where I didn’t have to work, but it was enough to give me time to figure out where I wanted to go and what I wanted to do. Most people my age didn’t have the same luxury.

How the hell we lived in a country that expected us to choose what we wanted to do for the rest of our lives before we were even legally old enough to have an alcoholic beverage was beyond me.

I’d never wanted to do the life society seemed so intent to push me into. I didn’t care about college or getting some fancy, high-paying job that would allow me to live the same life my parents and Vince did. I didn’t desire a corner office with a gold plaque on the wall with my name on it.

I wanted adventure.

I wanted limitless options, zero boundaries, and the freedom to make the most of every day I had on this Earth.

Of course, I still needed money to survive. So, going to college in order to secure at least a few years of stability? Worth it.

Jaxson eyed my bag with an arched brow before shaking his head and saying, “Alright, here’s the plan.”

He launched into our options for the road trip, which obviously started by heading north. I knew from experience it would take us hours just to get out of Florida. He then explained that we could turn around once we hit the Midwest, or keep going — as long as we were back here by August first for some training he had arranged with some of the other players on the team.

His eyes caught mine briefly then, like he wondered how long this road trip was going to be.

I didn’t give him any hints.

It was fun to watch him squirm.

I also only half-listened to him, mostly because I was taking in the way he looked as he leaned against his car and prattled on.

He was dressed for a road trip, and yet somehow looked fashionable — the way only an NHL veteran with more money than God could. He wore a relaxed pair of cream-colored Nike shorts, crew cut socks and white sneakers, along with a black long-sleeve Tampa Bay Ospreys shirt that he’d bunched up at his forearms. Those forearms were thick and roped with muscle, and I found my eyes trailing the ink on the right one again. His left wrist sported a Rolex watch that fit him perfectly. It was a flex, and yet he somehow made it seem so casual.

And I had another kink unlocked, apparently, because the way that watch hugged his wrist had me salivating.

I had my answer from how I’d wondered if he had more tattoos to hide, too, because his left calf, shin, and knee sported an impressive sleeve of what looked like mechanical gears. It was like he was a robotic man, and the skin had been peeled back in various places to reveal the machinery operating beneath.

His hair was tousled, no styling whatsoever, and paired with his glasses and his outfit?

It made him look so fucking cozy.

I was particularly fond of those jogger-like shorts and the way they left very little to the imagination.

He couldn’t hide that bulge even if he tried.

“Sound good?” he asked, and I blinked, slapping on a smile like I’d heard every word.

“It sounds like you’re a Type-A planner,” I said.

He frowned. “We can’t just get in the car and drive without having some sort of plan.”

“Why not?”

He opened his mouth, then shut it again.

“Look, we can use this as a guideline,” I said, carefully taking the notepad from his hand. I found it a little irresistible that he’d taken the time to hand write it all down, and I smiled at the thought of him up all night with Google Maps making a plan. “But we need to be open to adventure. What if we want to drive a hundred miles off course to see the World’s Biggest Soup Can? What if we see a sign for a state park we never even knew existed?”

“About the only signs we’ll see in Florida will be for sex shops or Jesus.”

I snorted at the accuracy.

“Fine,” he consented. “My only requirements are that I have to be back in Florida by August, and I need to be in St. Louis for a charity golf tournament on the fourth of July.”

That was just four days away.

“What is it with hockey players and golf?”

“It’s about as close as we can get to hockey in the off-season. Plus, we can’t help but be competitive. Asking us to go months without gloating over kicking each other’s ass is like asking a giraffe not to be tall.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine, we’ll make it to the golf tournament. Oh! I almost forgot,” I said, jogging over to where the Uber had dropped me off. I grabbed the two reusable bags from the driveway, heaving them on to each shoulder. “I have the first round of snacks.”

“First round?” Jaxson asked, using a finger to peek inside one of the overflowing bags. “You’ve got enough to feed the whole fucking league.”

“The best parts about a road trip are the snacks and the music. You’ve got to be prepared.”

“Do you have a playlist, too?”

“Obviously.”

He shook his head, running a hand back through his hair on a grin. It faded quickly, though, his brows furrowing as he glanced at me, then at the SUV, and back.

“Listen… when I asked if you wanted to drive somewhere last night, I originally meant just like… around town or something. I didn’t intend for…”

He paused, and my stomach sank.

“You don’t want to go.”

“No, no, I do,” he said, but all the excitement in my chest was deflating like a pierced float at the Macy’s Thanksgiving parade.

“It’s fine,” I said, grabbing my suitcase handle. “You were just being nice and trying to make me feel better. But I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”

“Grace, stop,” he said, covering my hand to stop me from pulling my suitcase from the trunk.

Heat rushed from that point of contact all the way to my toes. It reminded me of the first time I’d taken his hand in mine and dragged him off that party bus in Austin, how the touch had sparked a flame under my skin and made me dizzy as hell.

Jaxson waited until I looked at him, until I had no choice but to see my image reflected in his blue eyes. “I want to go. I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t.”

I swallowed.

“I just…”

His words faded, and I couldn’t help but smile a little at the fear on his face then. That was a look I’d seen on the face of dozens of boys before. “You’re scared Vince will find out.”

“More like I just don’t think he needs to know.”

“It’s just two friends on a little road trip,” I goaded.

He flattened his lips and leveled me with a glare.

“Relax. We already established that last night, anyway,” I reminded him. “He doesn’t need to know. No one does.”

I hated the way my throat tightened a little with that last sentence.

I was so tired of being the girl who reduced herself to nothing to make everyone else happy.

But the thought had barely skimmed the surface of my brain before I shook it away, smiling and sticking out my hand for Jaxson’s.

“Our little secret,” I said.

“What did you tell him?”

“Vince is my brother, not my dad,” I reminded him. “I left a note that said thanks for the food and the place to crash. He knows I don’t stay in one place for long. Trust me — he won’t think twice about it. He’s got his own shit to worry about, anyway. New house, new fiancée, remember?”

Jaxson nodded, seemingly appeased.

“I just think we need to set some boundaries, too.”

“Boundaries?” I asked, letting my hand fall.

He heaved out a long breath. “That night in Austin…”

The words hung between us, Jaxson eyeing me like I could fill in the gaps of what he wasn’t saying.

“I meant what I said in the text, Grace. I want to be friends.”

I swallowed. “What else would we be?”

His nostrils flared a bit, his eyes searching mine.

When he didn’t reply, I shot my hand out again with a smile. “Nothing to worry about. You’re a friend helping another friend get over a stupid boy. Just a couple of buds on the open road on a mission to have some fun.” I held up my other hand, two fingers raised like a Boy Scout. “No hanky panky, I swear.”

Jaxson eyed my hand warily for a long moment before he finally took it in his own, and when he did, another jolt of the night we’d spent together two weeks ago hit me like a freight train.

I felt that same hand sliding up my rib cage, felt a zap of heat between my legs when I remembered how he’d palmed my breast and groaned in my ear at the feel of it. I’d tested him that night, pushing him to the edge in every way I possibly could.

And just when I thought I’d broken him, when his hands were rough and needy, his mouth on track for mine…

My brother had ruined it.

Jaxson tore his hand away as if he was living the same memory, clearing his throat and pulling his sunglasses from his pocket. They must have been prescription, because he removed the ones he was already wearing before sliding the sunnies on, instead.

He rounded the SUV then, opening the passenger side door and gesturing for me to get inside.

As I slid in and buckled my seatbelt, I was already dreaming about all the ways I could test that friend boundary.