Page 26

T here’s a quietness to the ice that I welcome with open arms. Skating, like horseback riding, helps clear my mind.

That’s why I’m usually here at least an hour before everyone else arrives.

None of my other teammates like to wake up earlier than they have to, especially when we’re not in season.

It’s just me, the rink, and no one here to bother me as my blades glide across the ice.

It’s been hell the last few days, between my ride with Bellamy and hanging at The Wolves Den the same day, then her giving me and Mav those notebooks, and having to deal with Tori’s bullshit. I welcome the freezing cold air filling my lungs.

I wanted to kiss her so fucking badly yesterday. The way her familiar scent wrapped around me was like a beacon leading me to my final destination… The only one that matters.

Fuck… Three years and the urge to wrap her in my arms, inhale her scent, and devour every inch of her still plagues me daily.

I must’ve lost track of time with my downward spiraling, because the familiar sound of my teammates clamoring onto the ice fills the air.

A large, gloved hand slaps me on my shoulder, and I spin around, greeted by Mav’s smile.

“What’s up, Brother? Didn’t hear you sneak out this morning,” Mav says.

The big ‘C’ on his upper right chest catches my eye, and I smile.

Where I come to the rink early to clear my mind, Mav stays after to perfect his skills.

I’m so damn proud of him. There have only been a handful of juniors in MRU hockey history who have been captains, and my twin is one of them.

He, along with two seniors, Jones and Riley, are leading our team this year.

“Yeah, got here early… Needed to clear my head,” I reply, and he nods because, clearly, my brother isn’t oblivious.

Once everyone is in the rink, Coach calls us over to separate us into teams for our scrimmage. Just as we’re about to break away, Mav grips my arm.

“You good?” he asks, passing me my helmet I didn’t realize he was carrying

“Yeah, I'm good. Let’s do this,” I say as I place it on my head.

Grabbing the cage of my helmet, he pushes his forehead into mine. “Crash, smash,” he starts the beginning of our chant, and I finish it…like I always do.

“Take ’em down, Brother.”

It’s a tradition… we’ve been reciting this same chant since our senior year of high school.

Where we earned the nickname the “Crash Brothers.” Apparently, we tend to get a little rough on the ice, especially if we feel like someone is getting too handsy with one of us.

The name has followed us here to MRU. I hate the attention, but Mav lives for the moments when the crowd chants it for us.

Mav’s devious grin spreads across his face, and we break apart, skating around the rink to get to our face-off positions.

We’re scrimmaging today in preparation for our first game in a few weeks, and I'm just going to say this now… We’re going to kill it this season. The way we all work so cohesively with each other gets me pumped.

After two periods, we’re tied, one to one. And even though Mav is a phenomenal center, Team B has our starting goalie, who has blocked all but one of our shots.

Coach Moore blows his whistle, signaling for us to approach the bench.

“Alright, nice skating out there. How are y’all feeling?”

“Good, Coach,” we all chant in unison.

“Good to hear, good to hear,” Coach smiles, actually smiles. Even Coach Moore seems to be excited about the season, and he’s grumpier than me.

“Riley, I need more pressure from you.” Shifting his attention to me, he says, “Cash, I want to see you get to the net, break through. But hey,” he pauses, patting me and my brother on the shoulders, “I’m proud of you both for no penalties so far.

” He chuckles after the last part, causing a matching smirk to spread across mine and Mav’s lips before we place our gloved hands in a circle.

“Awoooooh!” we all howl, then break apart and go back to the ice.

“Damn, I think I could eat one hundred of these burgers if I really wanted to,” Mav groans as he rubs his stomach after downing what I think might be his third or fourth burger.

“If you eat any more, I’ll be rolling your ass to the weight room tomorrow,” I tease.

“It’ll be worth it,” he says, reaching for another.

“Damn, son, save some for the rest of us,” Nola says as he enters our dining room with a tray of grilled chicken and corn.

There’s nothing better than coming home to find your roommate already halfway through cooking dinner.

It’s not that we don’t all take turns cooking; we do, but it’s just so much better when you're not the one doing the cooking.

Especially when Nola works his magic in the kitchen, because that dude is more like a chef at this point.

Nate comes to the table, freshly showered, and starts piling food onto his plate.

“Hey, superstar, you ready to take down Georgia?” Mav asks Nate from across the table.

“Feeling good about this one. Especially knowing I’ll have some of my people in the stands,” he says with a smile. “Who you driving down with?” Nate asks him.

“Me, Cash, and Bellamy. Berkley and Darby couldn’t come,” Mav says before he reaches for another ear of corn.

Nate nods, and I notice the smile he was just sporting fades from his eyes. Most likely because the person he wants to see most in the stands isn’t going to be joining us. Nope, it’s just Mav, Bell, and me road tripping.

Shoot me now. Being in a hotel room only one bed away from Bellamy is going to be painful, but I can’t say my stomach didn’t nosedive with excitement at the idea of her coming with us.

“I thought your mom was heading up here this weekend,” Graham questions, his attention focused on me.

“Yeah, she had to push it back a few weeks. She’ll be coming for our first real scrimmage. It's like she knew you needed us in the stands, cuz,” I joke.

Not going to lie, I was a bit disappointed when Mom called us and pushed her visit back, but the idea of spending a night in a hotel with Bellamy quickly erased that feeling. Even if being in such close proximity to my one weakness is going to be the ultimate torture.

I haven’t told my mom much about what went down between Bellamy and me, but I have a feeling she knows something happened, especially once Bellamy started making excuses not to tag along for our weekend visits.

“Yes, she’s the real MVP on that one. I need my fan club even at away games,” Graham teases back, pretending to bow.

I finish my plate, listening to the guys shoot the shit. Honestly, it’s one of my favorite times of the day.

“Yo, who’s going to karaoke this week?” Mav asks.

“No way, rock star. We have early weight room on Fridays, so until the season is over, you won’t find me there,” Graham laughs.

“Listen, I know we can't all serenade the ladies like I can, but it’s a hell of a way to get their attention,” Mav says, waggling his eyebrows.

“You’re an idiot,” I deadpan. Knowing damn well he fucking loves to sing and show off his talents.

“You wound me, brother.” Mav presses his hand to his chest.

“Maybe I should give it a go, expand my horizons,” Nola chimes in.

“Didn’t realize you needed to start tapping into new resources already. We’ve only been here for a few weeks. Shit, and you’re only a sophomore,” Graham teases.

“Listen, grandpa, just because you have your blinders up doesn’t mean I have to,” Nola laughs out.

I laugh along with them, thankful for this rowdy group I call friends, who have quickly become like family to me.

“I’m down to go to karaoke with the girls this week,” I add in.

Mav and Graham give me their typical I bet you are looks, but I notice Nate glancing at me curiously as well.

Yeah, brother, I’ve got it bad too. I know your pain.

Thankfully, mine doesn’t date my teammate.