Page 115 of Brace and Chase

On and on it goes until Nik stops them.

“Just call him Charlie,” he groans.

“No,” Jules says without mercy. “Heartbreaker,” he suggests and everyone quickly protests, some even throw napkins at him. I do laugh at that.

“King Charles,” Bear says suddenly, and everyone quiets down.

“I mean, the English might protest,” I argue quietly, wincing at the thought of anyone calling me that.

“He is the best defensive player ever,” Bates argues, and looks sideways at Nik. “Sorry, Santa.”

“It is fine, he is.”

I almost break my neck with how fast I turn to look at him.

Would anyone who’s ever met him blame me for staringwith my jaw on the table and my eyes open wider than they ever have been?

No, they would not.

The whole table is deadly quiet and completely still. Even the particles in the air are shocked still at his words.

“Oh my God,” someone whispers from across the table.

“Are you dying?” Bear asks, looking actually concerned.

Nik rolls his eyes. “You are all drama queens.”

There’s an uproar of offended hockey players then. Benny even stands up and shouts something I can’t understand at Nik, pointing a finger accusingly at him. And the rest follow.

Nik’s eyes are wide open now too, as he looks at all his teammates telling him he’s the biggest drama queen to ever exist, and he’s ridiculous, and when did he get that personality change?

Some start arguing over who really is the better defenseman, me or him, and the debates start to get heated with Spiderman pointing at Nik and Eagle pointing at me.

I just laugh at Nik, and eventually he looks my way and narrows his eyes.

“Shut up, King Charles.”

The laugh that bursts out of me has the day’s emotions draining away, and again I’m reminded that no matter what, I trust him. No matter what, I believe we’re going to be okay.

WithBrick’s help,we do manage to eke out a win against San Francisco, and then with Nik back on the ice and Brick next to him, we dominate against Oregon.

I feel confident for our game in Seattle, and I’m proven right when we get another win against them.

We fall to Vancouver in overtime, but get right back on track two days later when we beat Minnesota.

Then it’s time to go play in Chicago, and when we get there and have our light practice before the game that night, I’m as nervous as anyone with a brain would be when Charlotte Wayne herself steps onto the ice and glides toward Eagle as if she’d been born with the skates already on her feet.

I watch with my mouth hanging open as the three-time Olympic gold medalist and seven-time world champion launches herself at my teammate and calls himVinny, and then he tellsLottieto behave.

“You’re supposed to be a professional,” he scolds her and she keeps laughing at him.

“What is happening?” I whisper.

“They’re like siblings,” Nik tells me out of the corner of his mouth.

“Uh-huh,” I answer. I can see that, but Eagle is—well he’s just Eagle, you know?

And Charlotte Wayne is . . .Charlotte Wayne.

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