The Sweet Talker (Boston Hawks Hockey #1) - Gina Azzi Page 0,15

time, I swear it, I’m straight. I know all the reasons, all the mistakes, that landed me here and I’m not going to make them again.”

“Take the extra time,” I bite out. East and I have been down this road before, several times in fact. If he has any chance of sticking to his recovery, he needs to follow the process he committed to from the start.

I feel his frustration roll through the line but he doesn’t say anything and I don’t push it.

“What’d you do this weekend?” he asks, steering the conversation to calmer waters.

“Hung out with the team last night. We start training for the season opener on Monday.”

Easton sighs, “Fuck, now I’m jealous.”

“Don’t be. We need you when we’re closer to playing in the Finals.”

“Yeah. How are the guys doing?”

“Everyone’s good. Asking about you. Coach is going to fill them in this week.”

“But I’m still good, right? I’ll still be able to play.”

I close my eyes, not sure how much information to divulge to my brother when he’s already handling so much mentally. East and I have always played hockey together; we’ve always been viewed as a package deal. In many ways, my presence cushions his relationship with management and my performance on the ice softens his mistakes off of it. “Yeah, man. You’re still good. We need you back so go all in these next few months and keep your head up.” It’s the truth, management hasn’t said anything about replacing my brother. But how many chances will Easton get until his addiction is too much of a drain on a professional hockey team? The Hawks’ owner, Scott Relend, needs to know his players are committed to the game, to the team, and will put that commitment over everything.

Easton’s quiet on the line and I know his mind is processing, turning over my words, trying to read between the lines.

To distract him, I blurt out, “Indy’s here.”

“Indy?”

“Austin’s cousin.”

“Merrick?”

“That’s the one.”

“Oh yeah, she moved to Boston months ago. You didn’t know that?”

“I think I’m the only person who didn’t.”

Easton snickers. “Dude, you have been fucked up since Courtney. Drunker than me half the time. No offense.”

“None taken.”

“Austin threw a little thing for her when she first got into town. Oh, I think it was the weekend you and Courtney sold your place. But anyway, it was a nice dinner with a lot of Vanny’s and Claire’s friends. It was a way to welcome her to the city.”

I wrack my mind to recall the dinner he’s talking about and something vague clicks. Shame fills my throat that I was so gutted and angry over Courtney that I literally tuned out everyone else’s lives. Maybe if I had been more aware of what was going on months ago, my little brother wouldn’t be in rehab now.

“How’s she doing?” East asks after a second.

“Yeah, she’s good. Really great. Loves the city, loves her work.”

“That’s right. She’s a professor, isn’t she?”

“She is.”

Silence stretches for a long beat before Easton’s laughter pulls me from my thoughts about Indy. “What’s so funny?” I ask.

“Holy shit, Noah. Tell me you’re not trying to get into Indiana Merrick’s pants?”

“What?” I clear my throat, yanking on the back of my neck. “Of course not. I’m—”

“Fuuuuuck,” Easton cuts me off. “You already did. Damn, man. Little Indy Merrick?” He fucking laughs. “This just made my fucking day. My week! Thank you.”

“East, it’s not like that.”

“Yeah? What’s it like?”

“Indy’s a great girl. A cool girl. She’s…”

“Gorgeous.” My brother fills in the blank.

I blow out an exhale, making a sound of agreement.

“Why are you acting so weird? Indy’s awesome. When did it go down?”

“Last night,” I blurt out, regretting telling Easton the moment I do. This isn’t the topic that should be discussed on Easton’s first call home. “I’m sorry. This isn’t important. We should be talking about—”

“This,” my brother interrupts. “Seriously, I’m relieved to call you and talk about something that isn’t alcohol- or recovery-related. Just connect with the world again and be part of a conversation that doesn’t delve into my hidden feelings or triggers.”

I let out a breath. “Okay.”

“So you fucked Indy?”

I wince. “We slept together.”

Easton laughs. “Shit, man. You like her.”

I don’t say anything, not wanting to agree with or deny his correct observation.

“So?” he presses.

“So nothing. Man, she’s Austin’s cousin. She’s Jeremiah’s daughter. She’s wifey material. A good girl, a smart girl, a way-out-of-my-league girl. I can’t just hook up with Indy. She’s the kind of girl you go all in with or not