Page 21 of Switching Skates

He gestures to the guy in my grasp, cracking his neck side to side and shaking his hands out. “I’m Jackson. Would you mind if I get one in?”

A sense of satisfaction settles between my shoulders. I turn the guy in my grasp around to face Jackson, and Jackson cocks his arm back and nails the guy across the cheek.

He goes limp in my grasp and suddenly weighs a thousand pounds.

I release him, letting him crumple to the porch.

Holy shit, he knocked him out cold.

Nodding with approval, I turn back to the guy Maeve’s with and smirk. “Not bad.”

“Thanks,” he mutters with a proud grin before wrapping his arm around Maeve and tucking her into his side, planting a kiss on the top of her head.

There is something familiar about him, but I can’t place it. He glances inside, the front of his backward cap twisting into view, and the logo on it makes me suck in a sharp breath.

I knowexactlywho he is. I’ll blame the lack of recognition on the situation at hand.

“You’re Jackson Ridley, forward for the North Stars,” I state matter-of-factly.

He smiles. “Yeah, I am. Nice to meet you. Maeve’s told me a lot. You’re going to the Avalanche, right?”

My gaze drops to Maeve, who is no longer cowering with fear in her eyes, but is now looking at Jackson like he hung the moon.

“Yeah, I am. After this year.” I return the conversation to the present. “Maeve didn’t mention she was seeing you. It’s quite the surprise.” I glare slightly at her.

“Well, technically, this is the first time we’re meeting in person.” Which I couldn’t tell at all. They seem very comfortable together. “She called me. I came.”

I nod in approval. I may be blinded by who he is, but he seems like a good guy so far. Probably one of the only ones I would ever consider good enough for my sister based on everything I’ve heard about him.

“Maeve, are you okay?” I study her closely for marks, but thankfully, I don’t see any.

“Yeah, much better now.” She stands up taller, leaning into Jackson. “This isn’t exactly how this party was supposed to go.”

“Sorry, Sass,” I mutter her childhood nickname. “Go enjoy yourself now. Don’t let this prick ruin it.” I nudge him with my foot and see that he’s breathing. “Where’s Daphne? I haven’t seen her.”

“She’s upstairs, probably sleeping. She got glutened earlier from this smoothie place and has been out for, like, three hours. She felt bad, but I told her to stay upstairs and rest.”

I direct my attention to Jackson. “Are you staying for a bit?”

“Yeah,” he says instantly.

“Keep an eye on her for me?” I ask, trusting this fellow hockey player to not be a tool tonight.

“I’ve got her,” he assures me with genuineness in his eyes.

I’ve never met him, but I’ve heard a lot about him through the grapevine, and he seems like an all-around good guy.

Moaning and groaning pull our attention to the guy on the deck, who is now rolling over onto his back. He starts to sit up, one hand on his forehead and the other on his balls.

Shaking my shoulders back, I clear my throat, and he looks up at me.

“Hey, Ross?” I cross my arms.

“Yeah?” He steps beside me, matching my pose. “Need me to take care of him?”

The guy’s eyes widen, and I contemplate if I should get one last hit in. What are the odds I could knock him out in one punch like Jackson did?

Should I? Should I not? Should I? Should I no?—