“I can’t believe you’re here.” He stepped forwards and pulled me into a hug, squashing the bags between us.
“Careful with the food, knobhead. You’re gonna be eating squashed pastries if you’re not careful.”
Smiling, he shook his head. “The first time I’ve seen you in months, and you insult me straight away.”
“You shouldn’t expect anything less than love disguised as insults from your favourite brother.”
“My favourite and only brother. Come on, let’s get inside. When did you get here? How long are you staying? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” The questions tumbled from his mouth as he directed me into the house, taking the bags from my hands as we entered his huge kitchen.
“Yesterday. I didn’t say anything because I wanted to surprise you. And I’m planning on staying here for a while—hopefully until you win the Stanley Cup, unless I get called home sooner.” I followed him into the kitchen, taking in the shiny countertops and impressive-looking appliances. “Nice place, by the way.”
“Until we win… Don’t jinx it,” he mumbled. “But thanks.” Unpacking the food onto his kitchen island, he shook his head again. “I still can’t believe you’re actually here, and you’re going to watch me play.”
“Believe it. And it’s the playoffs, too. I was so fucking happy when you made it through the second round. You were amazing in that last game. Totally kicked the other team’s asses. Uh…Vegas, wasn’t it?” I leaned against the island, resting my elbows on the surface. “That winning goal right at the end of the third period was fucking brilliant.”
His mouth curved into a cocky grin. “Yeah. I know. Petrov almost missed it, but he managed to tap it in at the last second.”
“Yeah. Pass me a plate, will you?”
Catching me mid-yawn as I stacked an assortment of pastries on the plate, he studied me with his brows pulled together. “Hey. You look tired. Jet lag? I’ll get you a coffee.”
“Yeah. Jet lag.” I shrugged as he made his way over to his coffee machine and placed a mug beneath the spout, hoping he wouldn’t ask for any details of how I’d spent my first night in Calgary.Funny story, but I went to that festival you mentioned and somehow ended up being fucked by a stranger in a club. And by the way, I am one hundred percent bisexual, and I’ve discovered that I definitely enjoy being fucked in the ass.
No. That would lead to too many questions. Although…I really should tell him that I was bi. He was, too, so I knew he’d be accepting. But I’d probably be better off mentioning it at a different time, just in case he decided to ask more questions.
“Jet lag sucks, but it’s worth it to see you in person.” Brayden slid a steaming mug of coffee across the island to me before swiping a croissant from the plate and taking a bite. “Mmm. This is good. It beats the cereal I was planning on having.”
I stared at him. “Cereal during playoffs? That’s all you were planning to have?”
“It’s lucky I’ve got my little brother here to make sure I’m eating enough to keep me energised.” He shot me a grin before showing the rest of the croissant into his mouth. “Speaking of which, you should come to practice this afternoon.”
Fuck, yeah. It would be amazing to see Brayden and his teammates in action up close and personal, especially now the Calgary Bobcats were into the Western Conference Finals. I was still a little unclear on exactly how it all worked—it was so different to football—but I knew that if the Bobcats won this round, they’d be one of only two teams in the entire NHL playing for the Stanley Cup.
“I’ll be there. What time and where?”
“Practice starts at two. You can hang around here until then, or if you’ve got things you want to do, I can pick you up on my way, or—wait, how did you get here? Taxi?”
“Nah, I got my agent to sort me out with a hire car. I’ve got a video call with him and my manager after our breakfast, and my laptop is back at the hotel, so it’s probably best if I meet you there.”
“Okay. I’ll text you the address for the training facility. Meet me there around one thirty, and I’ll introduce you to everyone.” Finishing up the last of his croissant, he reached for a bagel. “Speaking of hotels. You’re always welcome to stay here, you know. I have plenty of space.”
Biting down on my lip, I lowered my coffee mug. “Uh…” My gaze flicked to his and then down at the countertop. “Thanks. I appreciate the offer, but I think I’m gonna keep my hotel room.”
In my peripheral vision, I saw his brows rise. “Okay. Any reason why? I’m more than happy to have you here.”
“Uh,” I said again. “I’m…oh, fuck it. I’m bisexual, and I wanna hook up while I’m here. I—I’m not ready to tell anyone back at home yet, so…” I knew my face was red because I could feel my cheeks heating, and I only hoped he wouldn’t take the piss out of me.
There was silence while he processed my words, and then he carefully placed his bagel down and rounded the island, holding out his arms. I stepped into his hug, a sigh falling from my throat. Of course he wasn’t going to take the piss out of me for wanting to hook up. He was my brother.
Releasing me, he gave me a reassuring smile. “Thanks for telling me. I understand. You know I’m here if you need anything.”
“I know.” I cleared my throat, picking up my coffee again and taking a sip. It was time to steer the conversation away from me, especially while last night was still so fresh in my mind. “Speaking of… Anyone special in your life you wanna tell me about?”
He laughed. “No. All I’m interested in right now is achieving my dream of winning the Stanley Cup.”
“You’d better finish up that bagel, then, so you’ve got the energy for practice. You sure it’s okay for me to be there?”
“Yeah, of course. It’s open to the public, but even if it wasn’t, I’d smuggle you in somehow. I guess I should warn you, though—some of the guys can get a bit intense. Don’t take it personally if they seem standoffish. It’s the playoffs, you know?”
