Page 127 of Trick Shot

“Brooks!” a voice barks behind me.

I turn.

Coach Bennett. Big fucker, late forties. His hair’s going gray at the temples, but his body’s still built like he could lace up and bulldoze the league all over again. He’s a legend on the ice, a tank off it. And when he talks, you shut the fuck up and listen.

He stops in front of me, slapping a heavy hand on my shoulder pad.

“Hell of a session today, Brooks. That’s the kind of focus I want to see this season.”

“Thanks, Coach.” I nod, grinning.

Dom skates up behind me, tugging off his helmet.

“He’s not wrong,” Dom says, his voice proud, eyes sharp. “Whatever you’re doing? Don’t stop.”

I almost fucking choke.

Whatever I’m doing?

Oh, I could tell him. I could give him a full fucking breakdown of exactly what I’m doing.

Your little sister.

The words echo in my head like a filthy secret with a halo.

My house is loud, the music’s bumping, and my teammates are pouring in and out of the glass doors with drinks in hand.

I throw these parties all the time—for post-game wins, pre-season hype, and just random Tuesday nights—but tonight there’s only one reason I opened my doors.

And I’m looking at it right now, wearing a tight black dress, bare legs, and black Doc Martens. Her dark curls are spilling over her shoulders, and her eyes are already locked on me. She smiles and winks, and biting my tongue is all I can do not to walk up to her. Because her brother’s talking to me.

I lean against the kitchen counter, solo cup in hand, pretending to listen as Dom talks about breakout formations. He leans against the counter next to me with a fresh beer in his hand.

“Didn’t expect you to throw this whole thing together just for pre-season kick-off,” he says, nodding to the crowd.

“Yeah, well.” I shrug, taking a slow sip of my drink.

“You miss us that bad already, huh?” Dom nudges my elbow.

“I cry myself to sleep every night you’re not spooning me,” I deadpan.

“Oh, cupcake,” he sighs dramatically, “just say when.”

I backhand him in the chest, laughing, before turning back to his sister. He gets into Zed’s save percentage, and I nod like I’m engaged, but I’m only half-listening. I’ve been looking for an opening to talk to her, but her brother hasn’t left my side since they got here.

I tilt my body away from Dom and unlock my phone. I need her alone.

My thumb hovers before I quickly type:

Me:Follow me. Don’t make it obvious.

I hit send and glance up at her. Her phone lights up on the counter beside her drink.

She glances at the screen and bites her lip to contain a smile. Her eyes find mine, and she nods—a tiny little nod that nearly levels me.

“Bathroom,” I announce to Dom.

“Go ahead, I’m gonna go tell Dan to slow it down with the shots.”