Page 3 of Rosie and the Beast Next Door

Everyone except me. I tightened my laces and grabbed the stick Shiloh and I used to play with when we were kids. Pock-marked and taped, the least expensive stick the sports store in Winterhaven had, it still fit in my hand like it was custom made for me.

It was cold without my pads, but sweat soaked my clothes, dripped from my pores. The empty stands flew by as I skated from goal frame to goal frame, volleying the hockey puck from left to right with my stick. Back and forth, the seats blurred. The lines on the ice blurred. The sound of skates cutting against ice blurred.

I could almost pretend it was me and Shiloh against the world again, skating on the frozen-over pond behind my house, calling out plays like we were professional announcers. Cheering like the frozen tree boughs were an adoring crowd. We’d skate until our shaking knees collapsed us into a heap of pure elation, and then stare at the sky and dream.

“You think Lily’s interested in me?” Shiloh had asked once as we lay there, watching gray clouds drift in the sky. We had to have been fourteen or fifteen.

“Dude, that’s my sister.”

“And …”

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Then why’d you take the blame when I ruined her coat with the snow machine last week?”

“Because I’m an angel.”

He snorted and tried to get in a quick groin shot with his hockey stick. I grabbed it with a grin and wrestled it away from him, then tossed it as far from us as I could.

“I’ll win her over,” he said with confidence, completely unbothered that he’d have to go search for his stick in the snow later.

I rolled my eyes. “I guess Lily’s going to be with someone eventually, and it might as well be you, dumb nut.”

He turned his head to look at me, too serious in that way he sometimes got. “Thanks, Dyl. You’re the best.” Then he pulled his foot back and kicked me in the side, sending me sliding across the ice, his laughter ringing over the entire park as I scrambled to stand and got ready for another round of hockey.

I skidded to a stop, sending ice shards flying around me, and slammed the memory behind a thick, impenetrable wall. I bent over my knees and heaved in air as an avalanche of grief careened toward me.

No.

I straightened to outskate it, gaining speed as I raced across the ice toward the opposite goal. The puck was lying in the middle of the court, and I swung my stick back to hit the puck as hard as I could toward the goal. All of my energy, aggression, grief, memory of Shiloh went into my swing, wanting to send it all into oblivion.

I over-swung and my skates skidded out from under me. I swore as my back slammed to the ice. The wind was stolen from my lungs.

I sucked in air and stared up at the rafters.

At least I still had this.

Ice.

Hockey.

Winning.

It was the only thing that mattered.

Chapter 3

Rosie

Two months later

I called out my hellos as I ran through the Italian restaurant, tying my apron as I went. An announcer’s voice, coming from the big screen over the bar, grew more excited, and then everyone in the restaurant cheered. The Peaks must have scored.

I took my first full breath since I sprinted here from my apartment and clocked in one second before being late.

It was tricky navigating two jobs while living a secret life on the side.

Fine, that was dramatic (even if I liked the sound of it). But I did have a huge secret, one that would unhinge my brothers’ closed brains, if they found out. Which they wouldn’t.

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