Page 42 of Trick Shot (Miami Blazers #1)

My eyes snap to the screen and then to the boards, scanning. Heart hammering harder now than it did during the final shift.

She’s jumping up and down, hands in the air, hair bouncing, cheering for us. She looks at me and starts shouting something I can only try to lip-read, but it’s not fucking working.

The noise around me fades, the colors blur. The team’s still celebrating, but I’m already turning.

I skate past the bench, past the refs, and straight toward the section of glass where I saw her during the game.

Melody freezes when she sees me coming—hands still mid-air, mouth still open. Then her smile breaks across her face like light on water, and I’m fucking done.

I take my helmet off and toss it, skates slicing through the ice. I stop right in front of her, the glass separating us. Her palms press against it, and I lay my gloved hands over hers.

She stares at me, beaming, and then she does the one thing that shatters all self-control I have left.

“I love you,” she mouths.

The second I read her lips, I’m gone. I don’t hear the crowd. I don’t hear the announcer. I just drop my stick, spin toward the bench, and skate hard.

“Brooks?” Tanner shouts, confused.

I duck under the barrier, head straight down the tunnel, and take the side hallway toward the VIP stands. Arena security barely flinches—they know my face. They part like smoke.

“Need five seconds,” I snap as I pass.

One of them nods tightly, and I’m moving again. Blades clatter against concrete, gear creaking with each step, sweat dripping from every inch of me—but none of it matters.

Because now I see her. No glass between us.

I grab the rail, vault over it in full gear, and land on the carpet behind her.

She gasps, stumbling back. Even on her tiptoes, she can’t quite reach me—not with my skates on, not with my height.

So I make it easy.

I grab her waist and lift her clean off the ground.

Her hands fly up, curling into my jersey, and I pull her into me. Her legs lock around my hips as I haul her higher and bring her mouth down on mine.

“Fuck, I love you too.” My hands tighten on her hips, holding her like I’m never letting go.

“I’ve missed you,” she says, her voice breaking into a grin that wrecks me.

For a second, it’s just us—her breath in my ear, my heart still hammering from the game, the taste of her cutting through every minute we’ve been apart.

The noise of the arena fades to a hum, the kind you feel in your chest more than you hear.

I press my forehead to hers, breathing her in, letting her know without words that I’m not letting another ten days go by without this.

But then the air shifts. A weight settles in, heavy enough to pull me out of it. I glance to the side.

Dom.

Slowly, I set Melody back down, but my hands stay locked on her waist. My gaze stays on him the entire time—because he needs to see this. He can fight it, he can hate it, but he’s going to have to fucking live with it.

Yeah, I’m gonna get fined for what I just did. The league’s gonna throw a fit.

Worst case? I get fined, suspended. But I’d still leave this arena with her legs wrapped around me.

I’ve gone ten days without her. Ten nights of listening to her voice through a screen instead of tasting it off her lips.

I’ll jump the boards every goddamn game if I have to.

The locker room is loud with victorious shouts—laughter, clapping, skates dropping to the floor, guys yelling over each other like a pack of hyped-up animals that just chewed through a win. The air reeks of sweat and triumph.

I sit on the bench, elbows on my knees, gear half-stripped, my whole body still buzzing.

That kiss still burns on my mouth, reminding me of what awaits me once I get out of this damn locker room and give the press the post-game interview they need.

I hear footsteps getting closer until they stop a few feet away from me. I don’t look up. I already know who it is.

My captain, teammate, and brother in everything but blood. And right now, the guy whose little sister I’ve been fucking behind his back.

“We need to talk.”

“So talk,” I say, trying to stay calm through the beating of my heart. He’s finally talking to me, and I don’t want to scare him off or agitate him more. But I’m also not going to drop to my knees and beg for forgiveness.

“You know that stunt’s gonna get you fined, right?” He crosses his arms.

“I don’t give a shit.” I finally look up.

“Well, I do. I’m the captain. You went up to the goddamn VIP area, Jace.”

“Then maybe don’t put me in a position where I have to go lose my mind.” I lean back, arms stretched along the bench behind me, looking him dead in the eye. “So, are we gonna talk about it?”

Dom stays silent, eyes narrowing at me like he’s considering it. I scoff, shaking my head.

“You’re a real fucking stubborn son of a bitch,” I mutter.

“And you slept with my little sister behind my back,” he says.

“Yeah,” I snap. “And I’m not sorry. If you came here to tell me I’m a piece of shit and unfit for her, save it. I’ve already given myself the speech.”

“Jace,” Dom sighs.

“No, really,” I cut him off, pushing off the bench. “Let’s just get it over with. You get your punches in, tell me I’m a piece of shit, and I’ll let you—just this once.”

“Will you shut the fuck up for one second?” His voice cuts through me, but I don’t stop.

“I know what you think of me, Dom. I know the highlight reel of every time I fucked up is playing on loop in your head. And if you’re here just to remind me how not-good-enough I am, trust me, man, I already know—”

Suddenly, he steps in fast, grabs the back of my head, gripping a fistful of my hair hard enough that my neck bends, and I have to brace myself to keep my balance.

“Shut the fuck up and let me talk.”

It’s not gentle, but it’s not violent either. I breathe through my nose, holding still, eyes locked on him.

“Talk, then,” I say, straightening up again.

“Melody sat me down,” he exhales, long and sharp. “Told me how it started. The texting, the Halloween—everything. She told me how she feels about you.”

“I know.” My voice is flat. “She told me. Said you listened to her but still didn’t want to talk to me.”

“Yeah, I was pissed.” His voice softens slightly. “I didn’t want to believe it. I was too busy playing big brother.”

His voice is low now, but tight.

“So I rewound the tape. Over and over. I started looking back—how you were acting after she moved here. And you know what I realized?” He pauses. “You haven’t fucked anyone since she showed up. Not one. And for you, that’s a record. So I asked myself why.”

“The thought of fucking anyone else makes me sick, Dominic.” I look him in the eye as I say it. What the fuck is his point? That I must actually like Melody if I don’t stick my dick into a puck bunny? That’s the logic he wants to use?

Dom barks a bitter laugh, shaking his head.

“Yeah? Well, the thought of anyone fucking my little sister is making me sick, so congrats—we’re both miserable.”

“What is your problem with this?” I square up, eyes locked on him. “What is the actual fucking issue? Forget the brother code shit. What’s your real problem with me being with her?”

Dom crosses his arms tighter and stares at me for a beat.

“You’re reckless. You’re impulsive. You’re childish. You act before you think, and your dick should be sold with the team merch.”

I flinch.

“Jesus fu—”

“Let me finish.” He cuts me off, voice sharp. “You’re chaos. And Melody’s not.” His voice falters. “She’s good. She’s better than both of us combined.”

I shift on my feet, waiting for him to keep roasting my shit. But then his tone shifts.

“But you’re also the most loyal son of a bitch I know.”

I furrow my brows at the unexpected compliment.

“You show up when you say you will,” he says. “You never let anyone down. You’ve always been unapologetically yourself, and watching you live like that helped me figure out who I was.”

I stare at him, frozen. He’s never said anything to me like that before. Sure, we’ve had our moments, but never like this.

“You’re the guy who answers the phone at three a.m. Who’s at my door in five minutes if I ever need you.” He shakes his head. “You’ve got this way of making people think life’s not so heavy. You helped me think that. I hardly remember life before you. And I don’t want to picture life without you.”

“That… wow.” I sit there, stunned.

Something presses behind my ribs and starts to burn. I have the uncontrollable urge to pull him into a hug, but I stay planted.

Instead, I open my mouth to speak, but Dom holds up a hand. He exhales like he’s debating if this is too much. But he goes there.

“Our parents… they’ve been planning Melody’s life since she was born. Planning who she should marry since she was fourteen.”

He starts pacing now, taking off pieces of his gear to keep his hands busy, and I just listen.

“There were always men being walked in and out of our house. Business dinners. Fundraisers. Meetings. And every fucking time, they’d trot her out. Smile, Melody. Shake his hand. Be polite.”

His voice sharpens like a blade.

“She was sixteen and they were already introducing her to men in their late twenties. Potential husbands. Investors. Sons of politicians. They treated her like a contract—something to be signed off and sealed. She’d sit at those dinners, smile like she wasn’t dying, and then go cry in her room while they talked about her like she was a deal they were about to close. ”

My blood starts to boil.

Dom’s staring ahead now.

“It was hurting her, so I started stepping in. Standing next to her. Making sure no one looked at her too long. Scared the shit out of every single one of them.”

“Good,” I mutter through gritted teeth.

He looks at me again, voice dark.

“That wasn’t my job, Jace. That’s something a father’s supposed to do. Not a brother still trying to figure out what to do with his own life.”

I swallow, trying to get rid of the fury threatening to take me under.