Page 18 of The Sweetest Risk

My stomach drops. “I do.” I stack the orange cones, reach down and place them on the ground on the side of the rink.

“Doesn’t seem like it. You were looking at her like you wanted to fuck her brains out. I mean, I get it. That’s exactly what I am going to do after Casino Night.”

I grab him by his sweatshirt and pin him against the boards. “Have some fucking respect. That’s Beckett’s little sister.” I let him go, pushing him in the process. “Why do you want her so bad, anyway? You can have any girl. Why Brooke?”

“Oh, I struck a chord with you. Interesting. Now why is that, Lawson? Is it because Brooke is like a sister to you, too? Or is it because you actually don’t hate her and want her for yourself?”

I am fuming. I am showing so much restraint. I want to kick this prick’s ass so badly, but he’s not worth it. But one thing I know is true: if he so much as lays a hand on Brooke, I won’t show any more restraint toward him.

“I hope it’s the second option,” Hastings continues, “because it will be so much sweeter when I win this bet. I am closing the deal with Brooke at Casino Night. Are you ready to call me captain, Lawson?”

“That’s not happening, Hastings. Like I told you before, she won’t break her rule. Never has and never will.”

I skate toward the locker room with a smug smile on my face because that’s the safest bet I could make. She won’t break her rule.

She can’t break her rule.

12

“Icannot believe that you don’t go to your brother’s games more often. I would be at every single game if I had the chance. Hockey players are hot.”

I roll my eyes at Tess. When I told her that I needed someone to go with me to see a hockey game, she did not hesitate. Tess was right when she said that my rule was dumb and I think it’s time to break it. Hastings seems like a viable option, especially since he asked if I was going to Casino Night and kissed my hand before he left the other day at school. Plus, it will bother the hell out of Tristan, which is always fun.

But, I was not about to face Hastings alone. I needed my hype woman next to me. She showed up at my doorstep with Dean’s jersey in hand.

“You did not have to get me Dean’s jersey. I have a jersey with my own last name on it.”

“Well, I figured since you are possibly interested in him, you might as well wear his jersey. He may find it hot. Hockey men love when their women wear their jerseys.”

Tess apparently harassed Bradley to give us tickets close to the ice–so there we are, sitting basically right behind the Storm bench.

Another reason I don’t go to games all that much, other than my rule, is that it’s really hard to watch my brother get slammed into the sideboards or pummeled in fist fights. No matter how much he used to get on my nerves growing up, I don’t want to see him physically hurt. But I guess that’s the choice he made when he decided to pursue a hockey career.

“Welcome your Dallas Storm!” Music blasts through the arena speakers. Fans are screaming at the top of their lungs.

“Thanks for coming with me, Tess!” I yell over the chaos. The lights are flashing and I can barely hear anything over the crowd as the team starts making their way onto the ice.

“Always, girl. Oh look, there’s your soon-to-be man.” She points toward the ice while taking a sip of her beer. She wiggles her eyebrows like a silly school girl telling me that my crush is on the other side of the playground.

I shake my head and look onto the ice. Dean lines up next to Jageilski, and he is looking over in our direction. Then a number that I am all-too-familiar with–92–appears next to Dean. My brother follows suit next to Tristan. Dean taps Tristan on his peck and leans toward him to tell him something. Tristan’s eyebrows pull together and then makes direct eye contact with me.

As the resident singer belts out The Star Spangled Banner, I try my very best to not look onto the ice at all. I have a feelingthat someone is staring at me, and unfortunately I don’t think it is my brother or the guy whose jersey I am wearing.

After the crowd sits down and the lights come back on, Tess leans over to me. “God, Tristan must really hate you, girl.”

I gasp as if I am surprised by this news. “You don’t say!” I take a sip of my beer.

“It was like daggers were piercing into your soul the whole time the national anthem was going on.”

“Classic Tristan Lawson. He has no other look for me.” Except for the first night I met him.

The first period seems to last forever. Neither team has scored. I swear, every time I see Bradley get slammed into the sideboards, I wince. I don’t know how Jen does it. I really do hate to see my brother get hurt all the time. At least they are only on the ice for a minute tops, maybe even less. It feels like an eternity, though.

Now I am sitting up close so I get to hear all the fun expletives and trash-talking. I smile when I see someone slam into Tristan or when he trips up. He also gets this very intense look when he is on the ice that I never noticed before. He is very focused. Even though I hate his guts, I can’t help but appreciate his dedication. Bradley has been talking non-stop at Sunday night dinners about how the captain’s spot is about to be available and how much he thinks Tristan deserves it. He is already an alternate, so anytime the current captain is not on the ice, he is the one who takes responsibility or confronts the referee if there is an unfair call.

He is a fan favorite for sure. I scan the stands around me and 90 percent of the people are wearing Tristan’s jersey. Some fangirls are even wearing the jersey with I assume shorts underneath, but at first glance it appears they are just wearing the jersey…and nothing else. I’m sure he loves that.

The buzzer goes off and the players skate off the ice. Dean waves over at me and smiles. I quickly acknowledge him with a wave and pull out my phone from my back pocket.

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