Page 7 of Breakaway

Cooper is the most talented player on McKee’s men’s hockey team, and if Mia’s sources are correct, at yesterday’s exhibition game against UConn, he got into a fight. From the highlights I haven’t been able to avoid, I’ve seen that he practically flies down the ice when he skates, throwing himself in front of the puck to defend the net, gritting it out every single game. He’s almost ready for the NHL, but according to my dad, he didn’t enter the draft when he was eligible, which means he’s at McKee for the duration of his college career.

It also means he’s not supposed to fight. They don’t do that in college the way they do in the NHL, and he should know better. It’s laughable to think of such a rough guy trying to teach little kids how to ice skate.

“He needs to curb his frustrations,” Dad says. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him, but he’s letting himself get distracted. I thought last season was in the past, but now... Maybe if he spends some time with these kids, remembering why he fell in love with the game in the first place, he’ll refocus.”

“You know him, right? He’s an arrogant player, Dad.”

He just raises an eyebrow. “He’s helping you, Pen. He’ll be at the rink tomorrow, so make him feel welcome.”

When my father decides something, it’s nearly impossible to change his mind, so I just sigh. “Fine. But if it doesn’t work out, it’s not on me.”

“No,” he agrees. “It’s on him. He knows it’s this or getting benched the next time he can’t control himself.”

My heart twinges slightly. Just a teeny bit. Say what you want about hockey players—and believe me, I have plenty to say—but their whole lives revolve around the game. Cooper might have a lot of fun off the ice, if the stories are to be believed, but being benched would be an immense blow.

When I skated competitively for the last time, I felt my heart break, and even years later, it hasn’t completely healed.

“That’s harsh.”

Dad rubs at his nose. “He needs to stay focused on his future. Just like you, bug. Tell me how the microbiology exam really went.”

Chapter 5

Cooper

The next morning, I drag myself out of bed before daybreak and get ready for my workout. When James moved out, Izzy moved in, and because we can be nice big brothers when we want to be, Sebastian and I gave her the room with an ensuite. That means I’m still sharing a bathroom with Seb, who graciously ignores when I leave towels on the floor, so in return, I try not to grumble too much about his extra-long showers. We’re used to it; even though we’re not actually twins, our parents act like we are. We’ve been attached at the hip ever since Seb’s parents—his dad was my dad’s best friend growing up—passed in a car accident. Seb came into our family when we were both eleven. James and I defended him in a fight his first week at his new school, and the rest was history.

I don’t bother knocking on the bathroom door. It’s barely five in the morning and Izzy is on her own schedule with her volleyball teammates; she has an away game today. Seb sometimes joins me at the gym, but he’s on a lighter workout schedule because it’s his off-season, so I’ll be heading out alone. I yawn as I try to will away my headache. Why did I choose to get into Izzy’s wine stash last night? Wine always makes my fucking head pound. I could have sulked with a six-pack instead.

The moment I push open the door, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, a shriek fills my ears.

“What are you doing?” someone demands.

I hit the light switch, squinting as the overhead light illuminates the small room. There’s a girl in my bathroom. A very naked girl in my bathroom. She shrieks again, grabbing the nearest towel off a hook. I clap my hand over my eyes, backing away.

“Who are you?” I demand.

“Sebastian said no one else would be up!”

I groan. “You hooked up with him?”

“I’m wearing the towel,” she says, sounding much more collected. “You don’t have to cover your eyes anymore.”

I slowly drop my hand. Now that I can look at her without being an accidental pervert, I see that she’s smoking hot, even halfway through washing away the remnants of last night’s makeup. There are pink streaks running through her dark hair, and tattoos cover half of her right arm. I wouldn’t have taken her for Sebby’s type, but he’s been on a hot streak since the summer. So annoying. Sure, he went out last night, probably to Lark’s or a dorm party, and I was stuck at home stewing over my new role as pee wee skating instructor. “Sorry. I just wasn’t expecting anyone to be up.”

Seb appears at my shoulder, a sleepy expression on his face and, to my satisfaction, some dried drool next to his mouth. “Is everything okay?”

I scowl. “Dude. You’re supposed to tell me when you have a girl over.”

He has the decency to blush. “You were already asleep when we came in. I texted.”

Crap. My phone is still on my nightstand, charging because I forgot to plug it in last night. After Coach let me go, I went straight home and played Dark Souls until I passed out. “Still. Knock on my door or something next time.”

“Nice tattoo,” the girl says, gesturing to the piece on my upper arm. “Is that Andúril?”

“Lord of the Rings fan?”

“I was obsessed with it as a kid.”

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