More than Friends

“Stop that.” I smack Duke on his thick, muscular arm and peel myself from his grasp, before nudging him in the arm with my elbow. “Dean and I are friends.”

Duke shakes his head and moves his hands to his waist, pushing out his thick chest. “No, you two are more than friends.”

I roll my eyes at him, annoyed. We have gone over my friendship with Dean a million times. “As usual, you are wrong, Big Bro.”

He smirks. “Men don’t have women friends.”

“This man does,” Dean adds, interrupting this stupid conversation.

“Right.” Duke narrows his eyes at me.

“Because we would kick his ass,” Theo and Tucker chime in at the same time, their voices blending as one.

Dean smirks at them. “You wish you could kick my ass.”

I want to thank the boys for crawling out of their twin headspace to put an end to this discussion. At times, Tucker and Theo can be more inappropriate than not. Luckily, this was not one of those times. Duke should learn from them and stop with the usual grand inquisition. I hate when he does this in front of Dean.

The relationship Dean has with my younger brothers was always enough to keep us from doing anything that could jeopardize our friendship. Hockey comes first for both of us. So does family.

“My boys.” Dad strolls into the room with his arms out at his sides to hug Theo and Tucker.

As always, he looks like a million bucks in a navy pinstripe suit and brown wingtips. He cleans up well when he’s working. Otherwise, Dad sports the same T-shirt and track pants my brothers and Dean usually wears.

Tucker and Theo go over to Dad, and he wraps his arms around them. “I’m so proud of you two. Keep it up, and you’ll be joining your brothers in the league soon enough.”

The twins are a year younger and in their junior year at Strickland University. I always remind them of that fact. Duke’s in his fifth year in the NHL and Austin is in his third.

“Who let the riffraff in,” Duke says to my dad with a rare smile he reserves for when he’s with family. My brother has anger issues. Ever since our mom passed away, he hasn’t been the same. None of us have been the same, but with Duke being the oldest and closest to our mom, he took her death worst of all.

Duke lifts two glasses from the table and hands one to dad. I roll my eyes at the thought of what I know is coming before it even happens.

“I hope you don’t think I’m going to keep you in whiskey,” Dad says to Duke, taking the glass from his hand.

“I don’t buy that, I confiscate it,” Duke says, quoting John Wayne, with the accent and all. “And a touch of it wouldn’t do you any harm against the night air!”

They clang their glasses together and tip their heads back in laughter.

When Duke is around us, especially Dad, it’s one of the few times Duke looks truly happy. Otherwise, I imagine he stews inside his penthouse apartment he shares with his teammates in Washington D.C. He plays for the Capitals, one of my least favorite teams. But they have grown on me more now that my brother is their enforcer and one of the best in the league.

After my dad finishes up with Duke, he locks eyes with me, saving me for last. He hugs me so tight that he lifts my feet off the ground. “Kat,” he whispers. “I missed you, baby girl.”

“I missed you, too, Dad.” I wiggle free from his strong grip. “But I think you’re going to smush me if you don’t let go.”

He releases me and places his hands on my shoulders, holding me at arm's length to study my face. “You look so much like your mother, even more so than the last time I saw you.”

My brothers have my father’s dark hair and hazel eyes that have flecks of gold in them. But I am the complete opposite of them with my blonde hair and blue eyes, the spitting image of my mother. She used to call me her twin when I was a child.

I smile at his comment. “Where’s Austin?”

“He’s on his way.” Dad winks at me because I know why Austin is late, though I was hoping he would be here sooner. In fact, I thought he would make it in time to catch, at very least, the end of the game. That was part of the plan that apparently went to shit.

“Great game, son,” Dad says to Dean. He pulls Dean into a hug, which I know has to be the highlight of his life. He loves my dad almost as much as I do.

Dean smiles. “Thanks, Nick.”

“You keep that up, you’ll be making the big bucks soon enough.”

“I hope so.” Dean gets so starstruck around my dad that it’s cute.