Page 22 of Switching Skates

I decide quickly and clock him across the jaw, driving my fist through his face.

He groans loudly, falling over on his side, whining in pain.

“Make sure he doesn’t step foot back in this house, please.” I shake my hand out, not used to fighting like the rest of the guys on my team.

“You got it.” Ross grins.

“I’m going to go check on Daph. Are you okay?” I ask Maeve.

Ever so slightly, she cocks her head to the side, and her eyes dart toward the house, clearly telling me to fuck off.

“I’m all good. Thank you.” She smiles.

“Don’t thank me for that. You had it pretty much handled before I grabbed him.” I chuckle, and Jackson’s eyebrows arch in surprise. “Which room is hers?”

“Upstairs. First door on the right,” she tells me, already turning her attention to the all-star forward holding her.

“Got it.”

I walk inside and make a pit stop in the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from the fridge before walking back through the busy house and heading upstairs, following her instructions.

Remind me to never let them throw a party again. Or at the very least, have it hosted at our team house.

Daphne’s door is shut as I approach.

Part of me wants to knock, but I know the second she gets up and sees it’s me, she’ll just tell me off and shut the door in my face. I just want to make sure she’s doing okay.

Twisting the doorknob, I crack the door open slightly, and my chest warms.

She’s out cold, mouth hanging open and breathing even. She’s sleeping on her side, aggressively cuddling a stuffed animal that I recognize—a skunk she had years ago named Pepper, who looks well-loved.

Stealthily, I slip inside and shut the door behind me. The only light is from her TV playing across the room. Lightly padding over to the side of her bed, I set the water on her nightstand, next to her almost-empty water bottle.

Her makeup is smudged under her eyes, and her hair is in a messy bun that is falling apart, the scrunchie nearly out of her hair. She looks just as beautiful as she does every other day.

Fucking hell, she is still perfect.

I hope her stomach is doing okay. I know how hard these incidents can be on her, some symptoms and episodes lasting her days at a time. At least, it was like that when we were kids, but I’m guessing that isn’t something that changes.

My gaze flicks to the empty space behind her, and an ache sinks deep into my chest. I want nothing more than to kick my shoes off and crawl into bed next to her, wrapping her up and sleeping with her in my arms.

But I can’t and I have no one to hate but myself.

Biting down on my bottom lip, I stop myself from leaning down and kissing her cheek. I don’t deserve it. Especially not when she’s not awake to consent to it. But, fuck, it hurts as I turn on my heel and walk out of her bedroom.

Shutting her door behind me, I head downstairs and find a seat on the chair closest to the stairs. I want to make sure no one goes up there.

Maeve and Jackson are snuggled up on the porch swing out back, pointing up into the sky. As grateful as I am for his help tonight, if he hurts my sister I won’t hesitate to give him the same treatment as we gave that piece of shit from earlier.

A beam of light falls across the sky, and it takes me a second to realize what it is.

Its light grows brighter as it falls faster and faster.

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and think of what I want. That’s what you’re supposed to do when you see one, right?

But it doesn’t take me long to figure it out. There’s only one thing I’ll ever want. I send my thought out to the universe and sigh. For every shooting star, she will always be wish. If only a wish would give me a second chance with Daphne.

“Maeve!” I call out to her and Jackson, who are on a paddleboat thirty feet out from the dock. “Lunch is ready!”