Hockey player or hockey-player nanny? That is the real question.
The rest of the night passes uneventfully, thanks to Briggs’s sour mood. Asher, Hudson and Graham each found a puck bunny for the night and dipped out before midnight, leaving me and Briggs alone, so I decide to cut out as well.
“I’m headed out, you want a ride?” I ask Briggs, who’s rapid-fire typing on his phone.
He doesn’t answer me, so I punch him in the shoulder to get his attention.
“Fuck, what was that for?”
“Dude, you’re in a bar and have been glued to your phone all night. I’m out, you need a ride?”
He shakes his head no. “I’ll call an Uber later.”
“Stay out of shit, dude, seriously. I’m not bailing you out of jail, and please, for God’s sake, wrap it up. We don’t need miniature versions of you skating around.” I grin, teasing him.
The dick nods, barely acknowledging me, eyes still focused on his phone. Asshole. I down the rest of my beer and leave the bottle on the table, with a few bills I pull from my wallet, and then make my way out of the bar. Thankfully, we frequent this place often, and the owner lets us use the back door, so we can avoid fans and the media. As much as I love having my picture taken, I’m not a fan of the paps.
I open the back door of the building and step outside into the cool night air, inhaling a deep breath before I begin walking across the pavement to find my truck in the sea of vehicles. Just as I’m about to unlock it, my phone rings in my pocket. I fish it out and see it’s Holland, my sister’s best friend.
Weird. Why would she be calling me after midnight?
I swipe and answer, “You know that they say any calls after ten are booty calls, right?”
“Reed?” She all but yells into the phone. The music in the background is so damn loud I can hardly hear her.
“Holland? What’s up? You realize it’s after midnight?”
I unlock my truck and jump inside, starting the engine.
“Uh, well, something happened.” Her words are muffled. The connection sounds like shit, and I can barely hear what she’s saying. “Can you come get us, please? We’re at Sorority Row.”
I’ve known Holland since we were kids and never once has she asked me to pick her or Emery up anywhere, since they generally Uber everywhere. It makes me worried that something happened.
“Are you and Emery safe?”
“Yes. Emery just… had a tiny bit too much tonight,” she mutters.
“I’ll be there in ten. Where are you?”
“Upstairs bathroom.” A second later, I hear the sound of heaving. Great, Emery’s drunk as shit. I make a mental note to grab a bucket at the sorority house.
I slam my truck into drive and pull out of the parking lot opposite the club. Thank fuck I’m downtown, and not at home, because this drive would’ve taken twice as long. Sorority Row is only ten minutes from the bar.
My tires ramp up the curb when I come to a stop then park, not bothering to even shut the truck off before I hop out and stalk up the steps of the house. By the looks of it, there’s a massive party happening, and it makes my blood boil. I hate my sister going here. I know this is where entitled, rich douchebags party, and I want Emery nowhere near them. Especially since I can’t have eyes on her.
I’m a big brother, sue me. I’ve always protected her and it’s not any different now that she’s an adult.
Once I’m inside the house, there’s people everywhere dressed in togas and skimpy lingerie. I’ve spent many nights here, pre-NHL days, and I know exactly what tonight’s about. It’s rush week. The craziest week of the entire year, where everyone is doing whatever they can to be selected to pledge. There’s fighting, hazing, a bunch of shit they shouldn’t be doing. Meaning, my little sister shouldn’t fucking be here.
I push through a crowd of people, trying to make my way to the stairwell.
A guy, wearing a toga, steps in front of me as I’m about to climb the stairs, and I run smack into him.
Damnit.
“Holy shit! You’re Reed Davidson, can I have a photo, man?”
“Sorry, dude, I’m looking for someone.” I sidestep him then take the stairs two at a time and make my way down the hallway until I find the bathroom. When I swing the last door to the right open, I find my sister sitting on the edge of the bathtub, mascara streaking down her cheeks and a drunken grin.
“Oh, it’s my brother, lovely,” she slurs. “What the hell are you doing here?”
She drops her head in her hands and groans obnoxiously loud. “He always ruins my buzz.”
Well damn, I’m hurt. Sorry I have to be the semi-responsible one of the two of us.
“Went a lil’ hard tonight, did ya, Em?” I tease.
My eyes drift to Holland, who’s leaning against the vanity wearing a worried expression. I get it. Em’s shitfaced and puking everywhere, but it’s nothing some painkillers and water can’t cure.
Em looks up at me and grins. “Well, someone has to have fun for the both of us. You’re kinda a stick in the mud now.”
“Nah, baby sis, I just don’t like getting trashed and then puking in the sorority girls’ toilet.”
She flips me the middle finger with her black manicured nail, but laughs, which quickly turns into a moan. “Shit, my head. There’s two of you. Why are there two of you? I can barely handle one.”
Holland throws her head back and laughs, and I narrow my eyes at her then Emery.
“You know, for being your knight in shining armor, you two sure are mouthy.”
Holland rolls her eyes and looks like she’s going to say something, but Emery speaks up instead. “My jerk of a frat douchebag boooooyfriend broke up with me so we took looooots of shots. Lots and lots of shots. I lost count.”
“Thank fuck, I thought I was gonna have to beat the shit out of the guy to get rid of him.”
“Shut up. He was nice… and smart.”
I laugh. “Yeah, just your type.”
I’m sure Em gets sick of my teasing, but it’s what we do. We talk shit to each other like it’s our religion. If Emery wasn’t talking shit to me on the daily, I’d think something was wrong.
“So, you want me to help you up or do you plan on sleeping here tonight?”
“I’m becoming one with the floor.” She groans.
I reach down and lift her off her feet, and she stands shakily on her heels. I toss my arm over her shoulder to steady her.
“Please do not puke in my truck or I’m leaving you on the side of the road.”
“Ha ha, very funny.”
I stop dead and look at her. “I’m serious.”
Even though I’m not. I chuckle and take the damp rag that Holland is holding out for me then wipe Em’s face. Em’s got her eyes closed and she’s looking a bit green, so I do her the favor of wiping some of the smeared makeup and dried throw up off, before handing it back to Holland.
Growing up, I’d been the one Em called when she needed someone. We didn’t have a dad, so she had me. I changed her tires in high school and beat the shit out of the guy that called her a slut after she wouldn’t sleep with him.