Page 9 of Mine to Take

“Thanks.”

“No problem, sweetie. Do you want to wear a mask?” She glances around with a frown. “There are so many people packed in here.”

“If the germs don’t kill her,” Holland mutters beneath her breath, “your smothering will.”

By the way Mom narrows her eyes, she heard the comment loud and clear.

Before either one can take another swipe, the lights in the arena are dimmed as the music volume is raised, cutting off the possibility of further conversation.

When the players from the East Town Rattlers are announced, we whistle and cheer as River’s name reverberates throughout the arena. Then it’s time for the home team players to be introduced. I glance around as the fans cheer and applaud until the noise becomes deafening. The Jumbotron gives their fans a close-up shot as each player takes to the ice with a wave.

Since transferring to the university in the fall, I haven’t paid much attention to the athletes on campus. Although, it would be impossible not to be aware of them. Hockey and football are by far the most popular sports at Western. Each team generates a ton of revenue for the school, and they have more groupies than they know what to do with.

It’s been the same for my brother in both high school and college.

It only takes one glance to notice a few girls in the visiting team’s section holding up signs with my brother’s name and number scrawled across the white posterboard.

That’s reason number one as to why I would never get involved with an athlete.

River is the other.

My twin would have a conniption if I looked twice at one of his teammates. He’s always been quick to run off any of the guys who show even a hint of interest.

His behavior is almost as overbearing as my mother’s.

Last year, I reached my breaking point and brought up the idea of switching universities. Holland encouraged it and offered to be my roommate. Even though both my mother and brother objected to the move, I transferred last summer and started at Western in the fall.

So far, it’s been one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.

I only wish I’d done it sooner.

There’s freedom in the people I meet not knowing who I am or my backstory.

I’m knocked from the tangle of my thoughts when the puck gets dropped at center ice and the players explode into action. I unzip my jacket, revealing my brother’s jersey.

His dream is to play professional hockey.

When River was a junior in high school, he reached out to Brody McKinnon, who owns a sports management agency, in hopes of representation. The former NHL player turned him down, saying that they weren’t taking on any new clients.

My brother was crushed.

Especially since his son is Maverick McKinnon. They played on opposite teams in high school, and it’s the same in college. Over the years, it’s turned into something of a rivalry.

A none-too-friendly one.

I blink back to the action on the ice when one of River’s teammates makes a quick pass to him. As soon as the puck lands on the end of his stick, my brother takes off, maneuvering around players as they attempt to swarm.

Energy buzzes through the arena as Western’s fans shout for River to be shut down. A look of intensity settles on my brother’s face as he darts across the ice. I leap to my feet and cheer when he skates closer to the goal. He’s one of the top scorers on his team. Just as he veers toward us to avoid a defenseman, another player slams him into the boards. My eyes widen as my hands fly to my mouth. The sound of the collision reverberates throughout the vast space as I stare at the defenseman who just took out my brother.

Our gazes lock for a heartbeat.

And then another.

Time stands still as icy air gets clogged in my throat. The cheering crowd fades as I stare into eyes that can only be described as the color of rich mocha.

When his gaze drops to my jersey, the loss of eye contact is instantaneous. His lips twist into a scowl. That’s all it takes for my heart to explode into action, racing beneath my breast as my brother scrambles to his feet and plows a gloved hand into Maverick McKinnon’s wide chest.

My knees weaken now that the intensity of his stare is no longer drilling into me.

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