Page 11 of Guarded Love

“That’s a lie,” Hailey Reed says, sliding in beside us with her usual deadpan precision. It’s about time she and Jade got here. “You couldn’t pay me to freeze my ass off surrounded by boys who smell like body spray and bruised ego.”

“You’re dating one of them,” I remind her.

She shrugs. “Levi’s the exception. He showers.”

Jade Samuels, Hailey and Wilder’s best friend, appears next to Hailey with her hands wrapped around a cup of what I assume is coffee or hot chocolate. “I think it’s kind of sweet. They’re all so hyped. Feels big.”

“Yeah, but I still would rather be anywhere else but here. And that includes the dentist,” I mutter.

Selene nudges me with her elbow. “You love Knox. You’ll survive.”

I pretend to weigh it out. “Barely.”

Then out of nowhere, I hear, “Knox Sanchez!”

Hearing my brother’s name brings my attention back to the rink and I nearly jump out of my seat as the arena erupts. Knox skates out to center ice with the same calm confidence he’s had since the first time he put on skates. Mom is on her feet clapping wildly. Dad stands beside her, a quiet, proud grin on his face.And Abue? Abue is waving a giant homemade sign with Knox’s number painted in glitter and tiny red wolves circling it like stars.

“Your grandma wins,” Jade says, visibly impressed. “That’s real commitment.”

Knox raises his stick in acknowledgment, smirking like the little punk he is. I clap too. Despite everything, I really am proud of him. He’s worked hard. He deserves this.

“And now,” the announcer’s voice booms again, “number thirty-three, Blaise Dalton!”

My hands freeze mid-clap. My stomach drops like I've just taken a plunge on a rollercoaster. Two years. Two whole years I've managed to avoid being in the same room with him for more than five minutes outside of my brother’s birthday party a couple of weeks ago, and now here he is. The crowd goes wild, almost as loud as they were for Knox. Blaise raises his stick in a subdued salute, and I can practically feel his blue eyes scanning the crowd. I shrink back instinctively, as if he could possibly pick me out among thousands of screaming fans.

My heart starts sprinting like it knows something I don’t.

"He's having a great season," Selene says beside me, completely unaware she’s pouring salt on an unhealed wound.

“Mmm,” I manage.

Hailey makes a face. “He’s too smooth with…everything in life. Like he actually has his shit together.”

Jade leans in. “I think he’s just quiet.”

“Same thing,” Hailey replies.

“You okay?” Selene asks, glancing over at me.

“I’m fine,” I lie. “Just cold.”

Abue looks over at me. I can tell she doesn’t buy it for a second. “Your face is red. Are you feeling feverish?”

“I’m fine, Abue,” I say, pulling my scarf higher like it’ll hide the heat crawling up my cheeks. “I swear. Completely fine.”

She makes a noise that says she doesn’t believe me but thankfully lets it go as the announcer moves on. I stare at the ice, trying to focus on literally anything other than Blaise standing just feet away from my brother.

“Wow, he really does pretend like the crowd doesn’t exist,” Jade murmurs.

“Of course he does,” I mutter, but I tune everything else out.

The rest of the introductions blur together as I desperately try to remember how to breathe normally. This is ridiculous. I'm a junior that is doing well in my classes, one of the best journalists on campus, and looking forward to a prestigious internship this summer, and I'm letting a two-year-old memory throw me completely off my game.

And yet my pulse won’t settle.

It’s pathetic.

I’m pathetic.