Page 1 of Making the Save

PROLOGUE

Summer

Wyatt Locke

My brother, Liam, and I stood outside the bar in Boston and stared up at the sign.

Brother’s.

“Subtle,” Liam said, knocking me with his elbow.

I knocked him back out of habit.

“I’m nervous,” he said with a laugh. “Are you?”

“No.”

He rolled his eyes at me

“What is there to be nervous about?” I asked.

“I don’t know, man. We’re meeting a brother we had no idea existed,” he said.

“It’ll be fine.”

“Just saying it will be fine doesn’t actually make it fine,” Liam said, like he was warming up for an argument, but I wasn’t going to give it to him just because he was nervous.

“Oh my god!” A woman walking by with her two young sons stopped, mouth agape, to stare at my brother. I stepped back into the shadows. Trying to be unnoticeable at six foot four, two hundred fifty pounds was impossible, but I kept trying. “Are you Liam Locke?”

“Last I checked,” Liam said, grinning, like being recognized on the street was the best thing ever.

“You were fantastic in the finals,” she said, and started rummaging through her purse. “Your hat trick in game one?”

“Thank you, I am very proud of that hat trick,” Liam said, the diamonds in his ears catching the sunlight and nearly blinding everyone.

“Is the Stanley Cup heavy?” one of the boys asked.

“It looks heavy,” chimed in the other one, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“It’s pretty heavy,” Liam said. “It was hard work getting that thing over my head.”

Liam did this stupid thing like he was lifting an imaginary Stanley Cup over his head. The kids loved it.

Mom finally found some kind of receipt and asked for his autograph. There were pictures.

“You’re Wyatt Locke,” the kid with glasses said, eyeing me up and down.

“I am,” I said.

“You lost.”

“I did.”

“Sucks huh?”

“Kinda.”

“Can we get a picture with both of you?” the mom asked.

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