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

I’m trembling, and the cold winter air isn’t helping. My chin wobbles, and chills cover my skin, but I’d rather be outside in my stupid little hideout than inside where my entire family is trying to figure out a solution to a problem that isn’t even theirs.

I run through my options, and they’re almost as ridiculous as Emory threatening to quit Bexley U’s hockey team to get a job. As if I’d ever let him do something like that for me. Sure, he’s ruined a lot of good moments in my life–like every date I’ve ever had, my senior prom, multiple friendships because god forbid I have an attractive older brother and girls blame me for his refusal to date them—but I’d never take away his future because of something completely unfair to not only me but to everyone else too.

“One, two, three, four…” I glance behind me and see a head full of sandy-blond hair. Ford continues to climb the rickety ladder we built when we were younger and finishes his sentence. “I declare a thumb war.”

“Sorry, I changed the password,” I mumble. “You can’t come up.”

There’s a long pause, and when I peek back again, he shoots me a dazzling smile that I feel in my chest. “Mmm…girls rule, boys drool?”

In complete disbelief, I turn toward him.  “How do you even remember that one?”

His crooked grin reminds me of the boyish version of him that used to sit up here with me on summer nights. “I remember everything about you…even the dumb passwords you came up with in fifth grade.”

I roll my eyes. I don’t have time for his cutesy remarks. I know he’s just trying to lighten my mood, but this time, it’s not going to work.

“I also remember that your favorite color is blue, which makes sense because it’s the same color as my eyes.”

I scoff dramatically. “That is not why my favorite color is blue.”

Ford climbs up another step of wood nailed to the tree trunk. “I remember what you wore on the first day of high school, and on the first day of your sophomore year, and on the first day of your junior year, and lastly, I remember that damn dress you tried to escape the house in on the first day of your senior year when you thought Emory and I had already left for Bexley U.”

They stopped me from going into the school and made me change in the back of my car.

I hated them for it.

Ford’s fingers drum against the bark of the elm tree, and I spin on the creaky old wood, letting my legs dangle off the edge. The treehouse is pathetic with its old plywood as a floor and nothing for the sides. I wouldn’t even call it a treehouse, but when we were young, it was all the rage.

“I also remember that every time you’ve ever been truly upset about something, you climb this outrageously tall tree and give me a heart attack.”

It makes me feel alive. It always has.

“You’re welcome for keeping your heart healthy.” I turn away. “A higher heart rate is good for endurance.”

Ford finally hauls himself up and scoots to the very far edge of the plywood. He doesn’t let his feet dangle, though. Instead, his long legs sprawl out in front of him, and he traps me in between them. I glance down at his leg in my lap, but I don’t attempt moving it. “Fuck endurance. Your little stunts are terrible for my heart, Taytum.”

“I’m beginning to think I’m terrible for everyone’s heart,” I mumble.

Ford slowly rests against the sturdy tree trunk, and we have nothing but the moonlight separating us. “You know what else you’re terrible for?”

“My parents’ wallet?” It’s not funny, but it is fitting.

He sighs. “My willpower.”

“I didn’t ask you to follow me.”

“And yet, here I am.”

It makes me feel better that he’s up here with me, but I won’t admit it. I look through the bare branches of the tree to stare at the backside of my house. They’re selling our home.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about.”

I swing my feet back and forth, and Ford’s leg tightens against my stomach. “I’m thinking of ways to pay for my insulin and past medical bills.”

Ford’s smooth voice settles me. “Alright, let’s hear ‘em.”

I smile on the inside. “I could drop out of college and become a stripper.”

The plywood beneath us bends a little as Ford leans closer to me. “What did I tell you before we left the rink?”

“Before or after you kissed me?” I tease.

“Stop fucking with me,” he mumbles under his breath. “A stripper. Yeah, fucking right.”Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

I laugh quietly when he grunts but shut right up when he quickly reaches forward and pulls me in closer. His legs spread over the plywood, and I fit in between them with my back against his chest. His heart pounds against my spine when his arm traps me to him. “You love to get a rise out of me, don’t you? You are not stripping.”

I roll my lips together. “Your possessiveness is showing again.”

His lips brush over my neck. “It only comes out to play when you’re involved.”

My arms fall to his as he holds us steady over the make-shift floor.

“What else have you come up with?”

I shrug. “Feet pics.”

Ford’s chest rumbles with laughter. “I’ve seen those ballerina feet. You ain’t makin’ money off those.”

I elbow him in his right abdomen. “Rude.”

He laughs. “What’s next?”

He told me to stop playing games, but I can’t help it. Ford brings out a side of me that no one else can. “I think my best bet is to marry rich. Maybe a doctor.” I snap my fingers. “Rush’s brother. Remember him? He’s in med school. It’ll be a two-in-one. My parents will love that. I’ll be under the care of a medical professional at all times and be able to afford my medication.”

Ford tenses from behind. His muscles lock, and I hear the way his teeth clank together. “You think you’re funny, don’t you?”

The corner of my mouth quirks. “I think it’s funny to get a rise out of you.”

Ford’s hand glides over my thigh, and I’m suddenly hyperaware of his every movement. “I think you like to test me,” he whispers, pushing on my thigh. It falls open just wide enough that he can run his finger up the inseam.

“I should tell you to stop,” I say. “Weren’t you the one that told me to keep you in line?”

I don’t know what we’re doing or how we found ourselves in this position, but it’s too enthralling to stop. I’m not sure if he’s trying to distract me or if he feels as out of control as I do, but being up here with him feels like some sort of survival. He refuses to let me carry my burdens myself, and to me, that’s huge.

Ford’s hand is steady on the inside of my thigh, and it leaves a sensitive tingle behind. “You won’t tell me to stop. You like me touching you just as much as I like touching you, don’t you?”

My lungs fill with air, and I nod against his chest. His teeth sink into my earlobe, and he pulls on it at the same time he unbuttons my jeans. “I can’t help myself when it comes to you,” he admits. I shut my eyes when his fingers slip underneath my panties. “This wasn’t my plan when I came after you.”

“What was your plan?” My question is clipped when I feel his finger tease my entrance.

Ford holds me steady with one arm around my waist as the other explores. He breathes hard in my ear before whispering, “To take care of you.”

I arch back to look up at him. “You are taking care of me.”