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Nods all around, and the support made me smile, if halfheartedly. “Yeah, it’s, um… It’s not fun. And like, this isourleague. I’m sure my brother could do without always being compared to our dad, but at least they’re both in the same league, you know? Can’t we have our thing without constantly being compared to the guys?’

That prompted a chorus of “hear, hear,” around the table.

Beside me, Lila made a face. “The press and commentators really just can’t let you stand alone, can they?”

I sighed, bringing up my glass. “I guess it’s to be expected.”

“Maybe, but it’s still grating.”

I rolled my eyes. “You have no idea.”

Our eyes met, and the subtlest wince in her expression made me regret my choice of words.

“But I’m glad no one here knows what it’s like,” I said quickly, “because it sucks. We earned the right to be here. All of us. The least they can do is say our names.”

“Damn right,” Laws said. “I’m glad they’re talking you up—I’m glad they’re talking up our league at all—but the clickbait is so transparent.”

“Right?” I rolled my eyes.

My sister laughed quietly. “They might as well just make a headline, ‘Hey Doran, Please Notice Me!’”

Everyone at the table laughed, and they were immediately calling out other ideas for headlines to kiss our father’s butt.

In the midst of it all, I glanced at Lila.

And she smiled, her eyes dancing with mischief.

What were we all talking about again?

Chapter 19

Lila

The Pittsburgh Bearcats had only existed since the beginning of this season. That seemed way too early to have any clearcut rivals as far as I was concerned, but apparently I was wrong.

Tonight, we were playing in New York.

Maybe it was because the men’s teams had a rivalry, and that had just carried over to us? I had no idea. Whatever the cause, both teams and both sets of fans were out for blood tonight. Halfway through the first period, there’d already been four two-minute minor penalties—one slashing, one hooking, and two for roughing. Those last two probably could’ve been given five for fighting, but by the time their gloves had come off, the refs were breaking them up, much to the crowd’s disappointment.

Now we were seven minutes into the second period. Sims was in the box for slashing, but now it was four-on-four for twenty-one seconds because one of New York’s forwards had taken a penalty for boarding.

If we hadn’t already had a fire under our collective asses, we would’ve now, because Laws could’ve been seriously hurt by that player who boarded her. It was a genuine miracle no one had thrown gloves over that. That, or the refs got the offendingplayer into the box before anyone had a chance to come at her. When she came out? All bets were off.

I stole a glance at her while we set up for a faceoff. Tonight was as good a night as any for my first fight in the WHPL.

Come and get it, bitch.

That would have to wait until she was out of the box, though. For the time being, we were focused on making the whole team pay by way of a goal. They were, of course, going to make us work for it, and I suspected they were going to try to jailbreak their player. As much as I wanted her out of the box so I could answer the bell for her nearly injuring my teammate, I didn’t want it to be at the expense of a goal against.

New York got the puck at the faceoff, but they didn’t have it for long before Val snatched it away. Both sides battled it out in the neutral zone, and then Sims was free.

Power play time.

Sims had barely hit the ice before a blur of white, black, and gold zipped past me.

I followed. Sims always stayed behind in the neutral zone in case the action turned back our way, so I shot across the blue line into New York’s zone.

The player who’d whizzed past me came to a stop near the boards, and I got a look at her number.