Page 5 of Trade Deadline

Do I regret every reckless thing I’ve ever done? No.

But apparently this is the wakeup call I needed.

Being one of the few twins in NHL history has given Elliot and I an automatic entry in the hockey record books, and we're the second set of twins to play on the same team in the NHL. Which means more to me than I could ever explain.

Coach waves toward the screen of his laptop, motioning to the photo again. “This behavior needs to end. Now. Stay away from the bunnies. I don’t want to see your name on this shit again. The only thing I want to see on the internet about you is how good of a fucking hockey player you are, how many goals and assists you have after each game, and how you deserve to be an Art Ross finalist.” He slams the laptop closed and crosses his arms over his chest. “Do you hear me?”

“Yes, Coach.” I nod, clearing my throat. “I’m sorry.”

He lets out a tired sigh and runs a hand down his face. “Your sorry means jack shit to me right now.Showmethat you’re sorry, Blaine. Show me you want your fucking spot on this team. Show me that you respect me, your team, and your-fucking-self. Now get ready for practice, you’re on the ice in five.” He stands to step behind his desk. “And don’t think for a fucking second that I’m not having you run bag skates for this bullshit.”

I grimace. I suppose it’s better than getting benched.

Two

Alex

“You’ve got us rink-side seats?”I shriek when I reach the bottom of the stairs, spinning on my heels to face Nate, my best friend and clearly a very sneaky fucker.

His face lights up with a sheepish grin, his head bobbing in an excitable nod. “Hell yeah, I did! I haven’t seen you in, like, a month, and I wanted to spoil you.”

I press my hand against the boards and gaze over the pristine white ice. It looks like a mirror with the colored lights flashing from above.

There’s something so majestic about ice hockey arenas.

The vibrating energy of a packed stadium. The anticipation of puck drop. The accolade banners spanning decades of accomplishments; retired numbers of legendary players, Conference Champions, Division Champions, Stanley Cup Champions. These walls have seen so much history that it feels surreal to be standing here.

Ice hockey has been a love of mine since I was a child, when I used to sit with my grandpa to watch the Chicago Thunder on TV. The speed, the determination, the passion, the aggression. It sucks you into its orbit and keeps you hooked. It’s an incredible sport, and I haven’t been able to indulge in it in a while due to a few issues.

The biggest one of them being money.

“These must have cost you a fortune,” I say quietly.

Guilt churns in my stomach; there’s no way I can repay him for even half of my ticket. I nearly cried when I spent twenty bucks on a hot dog and beer ten minutes ago, and these seats often sell for hundreds of dollars.

Money isn’t a luxury I have at the moment, and I always feel bad whenever people spend their hard-earned cash on me, even though I know they wouldn’t do it if they didn’t want to.

Nate comes up beside me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders, and gives me a small squeeze. “You deserve it after everything you’ve been dealing with over the last couple of years. Losing your grandparents, graduating college while grieving. Now you’re working yourself into the ground trying to make ends meet.”

He turns me to face him, his smile tinged with a hint of sadness. “I fucking love you, Alex, and it’s been killing me to see you lose that sparkle in your eyes. Plus, I can tell it’s currently eating at you that you want to pay me back but don’t know how, but look at it this way…” He brings me into a hug, kissing the side of my head. “This is your combined Christmas and birthday gift. Let me treat you, please; you deserve it.”

Wrapping my arms around his waist, I swallow the lump in my throat at his words, blinking away the tears in my eyes.

Nate has been my rock throughout these last two years.

My grandparents raised my brother and me, they were the pillars of strength in our lives after we lost our parents at a young age. Losing them both within a week of each other was heartbreaking in ways I could never explain.

“Thank you. I love you too,” I croak in his ear, giving him a squeeze, then shaking off my emotions.

We walk down the aisle to our seats, and once again I’m nearly knocked off my feet with shock. “We’re next to the penalty box, too?”

Nate beams, rocking back on his heels as he rubs his hands together like a happy otter. “Oh yeah, I have a feeling tonight’s going to beprettyexciting on the penalty front, so we have front-row seats to the good stuff, literally.” He wiggles his brows.

I laugh, wiping away tears from my eyes with my thumb. I’m so overwhelmed with emotion right now. I can’t believe this is happening.

The handful of times I’ve been to the Thunder arena was with my grandpa when I was in high school. We were so high up we could almost touch the rafters, so being down here, so close to the action that we’ll be able to see the facial expressions of every player as they fight for the puck…

It feels out of this world.

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