Page 36 of You’re The One (Saints Hockey #2)

“Ha, very funny.” He spins, proof he hasn’t lost his edgework, and claps me on the back.

“Who invited you, Rook?” I ask as I side-hug Helm.

“You can blame Logan. I’d much rather still be in bed with the beautiful woman I left there.” He does some weird figure skating twirl. The guy has way too much energy for someone who was yanked out of bed.

“Don’t keep us in suspense,” he adds. “What’s the news?”

“He’s dating my sister,” Logan blurts before I can say anything.

The group freezes. Then Helm grins. “I didn’t know that was an option.”

“Please don’t,” I mutter.

“What? She’s closer to my age than yours.” He cuts a wide arc, and I turn to follow.

“Age is only a number.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying. Yet, you guys still call me Rook. Like I’m some sad little chess piece.”

“When we get a new rookie,” King says, stretching his arm across his chest, “you’ll graduate to last-name status. Probably with a ‘y’ on the end.”

“Helmy?” He cringes. “Please no. That’s worse.”

I’ll give him that. It’s pretty bad.

“Then when you’re a veteran like the rest of us,” Logan adds, idly stickhandling in place, “we’ll drop the ‘y.’”

“Bro, you’re twenty-six,” King fires back.

I raise a brow. “Are these the official hockey nickname rules now?”

King shrugs. “Seems legit.”

“What he said.” I skate a slow lap around the group.

Volk finally weighs in, shaking his head with a slow exhale. “Another man falls… in love.”

That gets a snort out of King and a mock gag from Helm.

“So, does that mean the other girls are fair game?” Helm waggles his brows.

“Have at it,” I say without thinking, not considering what Bodhi will make of it. They wanted good television, right?

But that’s it. No trial. No drama. Probably to Logan’s disappointment, there’s no official sentencing. We spend the rest of the morning fucking around, catching up on how everyone’s been spending their time off, and taking lazy shots on goal.

At exactly ten, the girls show up.

I’m eager to steal a moment with Mia, but I take the time to greet everyone first and help them lace up their skates, per Bodhi’s instructions. Once they’re set, I lead them onto the ice.

I was right—none of them know how to skate. Everyone except Mia is unsteady, clinging to the boards.

Now’s as good a time as any to take advantage of having my teammates here, so I pass the women off for skating lessons.

All but one.

I pair each woman with one of my teammates. Emma is the last.

Mia’s trying to help her, but I cut in and gently guide Emma across the ice. I glance over my shoulder, mouthing to Mia, I’ll be back for you .

“It’s fun to see you in your element.” Emma pulls my attention back to her. “It must be nice having your friends here, too.”

“Yeah. It is.”

Of all the women here, Emma’s the one I’m most worried about hurting. She seems genuine. She might actually have real feelings for me.

But there’s no future with her. Not with Mia in the picture.

Honestly, even if Mia weren’t, I still don’t think we’d work. My feelings for Emma have remained purely platonic. Which is why I don’t want to mislead her. Or anyone.

Mostly, I don’t want to give Mia any reason to doubt me.

We reach Helm. “Emma, this is Easton. He’s the other winger on my line. Helm, think you can help her out?”

He takes her hand like it’s a precious gift, and I shake my head. Rookies.

I skate up behind Mia, slide my hands to her waist, and pull her in. “I missed you.”

“You saw me less than three hours ago.”

“Doesn’t matter. I still do.”

She laughs, low and warm, fogging the air between us.

“Say it,” I murmur.

She laughs, gives my forearm a quick squeeze. “I miss you, too. Happy?”

“Very.” I ease her around to face me.

I lean in without thinking, but she stops me with a palm to my chest.

“We can’t kiss in front of them.” She tips her chin toward the others, who are still wrapped up in their skating lessons.

“Why not? I’ve seen the show, they kiss in front of each other all the time.”

“What about the curse?” she whisper-shouts. “If they know it’s broken, they’ll all start kissing you.”

I grin. Wide.

She hooks a finger in my hoodie. “Don’t give me that look.”

“What look am I giving you?”

“You know exactly which one. The self-satisfied look that assumes I care if you kiss them.”

That wipes the smile clean off my face. “You don’t?”

“Still weird,” Logan singsongs as he skates by.

We both laugh.

Once he’s out of earshot, she mumbles, “I do.”

I kiss her forehead. It seems like a safe bet, and she doesn’t pull away.

We get one lap in before Bodhi’s whistle cuts through the rink. He steps onto the ice in his signature flip-flops, the hired ref trailing behind him at least had the sense to wear skates.

“Ready to play some hockey, ladies?” Bodhi calls, earning a few scattered hoots and hollers. “First, we’ve got to get you drafted. Dominic will captain one team, Ryan Logan the other. Goaltenders are Ilya Volkov and Miles King.”

Logan coasts up on my other side. “That feels like a pretty uneven matchup.”

Bodhi must hear him. “Don’t worry. We’ll play two ten-minute periods, and the goalies will switch teams halfway through.”

“I still think I can hold my own between the posts,” King quips.

Volk snorts. “You blocking a couple shots as a defenseman doesn’t make you a goalie. Can’t wait to see you humbled.”

King scoffs and starts stretching like he’s prepping for the playoffs.

“Hey, what about me?” Helm chirps.

“With the girls,” Bodhi says. “You’ll need to be drafted.”

I rub my palms together. “Let’s flip a coin to decide first pick,” I say to Logan, silently begging the hockey gods to be on my side. I need Mia on my team.

She laughs, probably catching on to my excitement.

If Logan wins, he’ll probably take Helm—he’s too competitive not to. But Mia’s the only girl out here who can actually skate. And I’m greedy when it comes to my time with her.

I toss the coin and call, “Heads!”

It lands, and I slap it onto the back of my hand. Please be heads.

I lift my hand.

“Fuck, yeah!” I shout, and Logan shakes his head.

“Mia.” I spin fast enough to startle her, catch her at the waist, and lift her. Not even pretending to play it cool.

“You’re fucking with Helm’s ego,” Logan says with a chuckle. “Must not want to win.”

I do want to win.

Just not the game.