End Game (New York Stars Book 1)

SIX MONTHS LATER

𝅘𝅥𝅮 𝄠 Fuck Her Gently – Tenacious D

“SING, SING, SING!”

My younger brothers, Kow and Noah, practically frog-march me to the stage where Liam is watching us as they chant the words in stereo.

“I hate you for this,” I snipe at Noah, who just grins dopily at me. “You’re lucky you’re massive or we’d have a problem.”

It’s my unfortunate fate to get my mom’s height and my dad’s weight and for it to be about two feet less than my massive brothers, who got all the inches, whereas I got all the pounds.

It means that when he scrubs my hair, I can literally only punch him in the stomach.

His grin widens because he knows that hurt me more than it hurt him—jerkface. “You love karaoke.”

“Not in front of snooty people.”

“Look at Liam,” Kow whispers in my ear as I shake my wrist.

I do. And, hell. He’s smiling for what seems like the first time in months.

I only agreed to attend this wedding because A, my cousin decided to hold it in her groom’s hometown in New Hampshire, which is too close to NYC for me to lie about being unable to make it. And B, because I wanted to check in with Liam.

Ever since he came home from the kidnapping, he’s been acting a little off. Noah and I aren’t the closest, but he’s gotten used to me calling him simply because, until his recent trade, he was also a Mountie which meant I could check up on Liam via him.

His move made attending this vainglorious wedding all the more important—I haven’t had a recent update in weeks.

Seeing Liam in the flesh hasn’t granted me much relief.

He was wicked thin when he got out of the hospital after he was returned to us. He’s yet to bounce back much even though Noah told me he was focusing hard on his fitness levels and their coach had him working with a nutritionist.

The problem is, of course, his agent will be working on convincing him to keep his weight low to improve his speeds. The laws of physics agree, but dropping thirty pounds because you were starved under a hostage situation is different than shedding weight for your sport.

At least, morally, it should be.

These goddamn hockey agents don’t give a fuck about morals.

Did I mention that I hate people? Especially bottom-feeders.

“Jesus Christ, Gracie. Cheer up, would you?” Kow argues, but that’s because he’s had one too many beers and is feeling brave. “It’s only a song.”

“She’ll get you back for that,” Noah says, his tone a singsong that’s bizarre on a man who bench-presses double my weight for funsies.

“You know it,” I promise, watching Kow raise his hands and quickly dart off the stage, hauling Noah with him, leaving me on there with Liam while the whole six-hundred-strong wedding party peers at us like we’re bacteria on a petri dish.

It’s enough to make me want to die because the bright lilac bridesmaid dress Amelia forced me to wear and the many chocolate-covered strawberries I ate for dessert mean my shapewear is not as effective as it was this morning.

Shooting Kow a glower to cover my agitation, I turn to Liam and warn, “If this is your idea, I’ll make you pay as well.”

His smirk is so normal, so pre-kidnapping Liam, that the sight of it floods me with delight. “I’m a victim too.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure you are. This has your pranking signature all over it.”

I still want to trace his smile with my fingers though.

Which would be bad.

Very bad.

Because this is Liam.

A fact I’m having to remind myself of more and more often.

Like ‘every time I talk to him on the phone’ often.

Like ‘whenever he texts me’ often.

This is a problem I can’t solve.

He’s Kow’s BFF. Family.

Except, you don’t want to kiss family.

You don’t look at family and think about running your fingers through their messy chestnut-brown hair or want to stare soulfully into their blue eyes…

Before the kidnapping, Liam always had scruffy stubble on his cheeks. You don’t see that so much anymore. You don’t look at family and think about how wonderful it’d be to test how smooth their silken jaw is, right?

“This isn’t a prank,” he assures me, which is the opposite of reassuring.

“Which song?” I ask uncomfortably, voice tight with the longing I’m trying and failing to repress, aware that people are starting to talk.

It makes me super self-conscious in my really tight, too tight, wedgie tight, (I hate you, Amelia) dress.

That’s when the opening chords sound behind us and I have to hide a snicker as recognition hits.

“You didn’t,” I whisper, my agitation fading in the face of his wickedness.

He winks at me, making the gauntness in his cheeks more apparent. “I did.”

“How did you convince the DJ to play it?”

“I can make magic happen,” he says smugly.

“Thought you weren’t involved.”

“Adjacently.”

I snort.

As Tenacious D starts to play and Jack Black’s lyrics evolve into social discourse about the appropriate way to fuck a lady in front of Amelia’s new family who is hella conservative, I beam up at him.

Not only is this song a mutual favorite of ours, but the sense of justice is too delicious.

Amelia is a grade-A kiss-ass who’s marrying up and who my mom wishes were her daughter instead of me.

When the chords drift to an end and Liam’s croon does too, I don’t give a shit if both of us were flat. I’m just enjoying his grin and the buzz of adrenaline that’s flooding my system in a way that has nothing to do with chocolate and everything to do with Liam’s vibe.

Man, I missed that.

The urge to kiss him is back.

With a vengeance.

But nope, can’t do that.

No, sirree!

As the song dies to nothing, the silence spreads and the crowd gawks at us for singing about smooches and sexy times in front of Amelia’s new father-in-law, who’s the town mayor. Liam proceeds to hook his arm around my shoulder and leads me toward the stage steps when, finally, there’s a reaction.

My brothers as well as Uncle Jak and Aunt Ginnie, who dislike their new son-in-law, start cheering.

In my ear, Liam whispers, “That’s for Amelia making you wear lilac. And a dress.”

I bite my lip to hide my smile. It’s worth Mom grabbing my hand and hissing, “What were you thinking?” when we return to our table as if it were my fault that Liam picked the song he did.

It’s worth the disappointed headshake from my dad and Amelia storming out of the room like a drama queen.

Kow, of course, loves the chaos.

He sits back like the king he thinks he is, bumping his fist with Noah’s as he declares, “There’s another player in town, sis. Liam’s got his wicked streak back.”

That means they really were in on it together—okay, so my siblings don’t always suck.

Just sometimes.

Not that Liam is a sibling.

He’s not.

He’s a friend of my brother.

A fact I’ll scream after I dig out my vibrator tonight as the lopsided smile he shoots me when he’s sneaking away from the hall for a breather will become a feature in my spank bank.

Only, in my fantasies, that smile wouldn’t be from across a room… It’d come from directly above me and I’d get to taste it.

Maybe that’s why I get up after yet another scolding from Mom, and maybe that’s why I decide to follow him.

And why, after I slip out of something a lot uncomfortable in the bathroom, I pick up a bowl of lime slices and a salt shaker to go with the bottle of tequila I saw him slink outside with…