Page 68 of Faking It For Real

"That sounds like your sister," I smiled. "She's pretty thoughtful."

Sophia nodded solemnly. "She works really hard, too. Dad says she gets that from Mom's side of the family—the stubbornness."

"I believe it."

"Do you love her?" The question came out of nowhere, delivered with the blunt curiosity only a child could muster.

I blinked, caught completely off-guard. "I, uh..."

"It's okay if you don't know yet," Sophia continued, mercifully sparing me from answering. "Love is complicated. That's what Mia says, anyway."

"Your sister is very wise," I managed.

"She is," Sophia agreed. "That's why she deserves someone really good."

The simple statement hit me with unexpected force. Mia did deserve someone really good—someone who saw her determination and talent, who supported her dreams, who wasn't just using her as a shield against an ex-girlfriend while dangling NHL connections as compensation.

The arrangement that had once seemed so straightforward now felt hollow in the face of Sophia's innocent assessment.

"Hello? Earth to Ethan?" Sophia waved a hand in front of my face. "Did you hear what I said about my obsidian?"

"Sorry," I refocused. "Tell me again?"

When we finally returned downstairs, the celebration was in full swing. Tables had been pushed against the walls to create a larger dancing space, and someone had connected a phone to the stereo, updating the music to a mix of Latin pop and American hits. Elena had emerged from the kitchen and was dancing with Gabriel, their movements so in sync it was clear they'd been partners for decades.

I scanned the room for Mia and spotted her in the corner with Miguel, who appeared to be showing her something on his phone. She looked up as if sensing my gaze, smiled, and waved me over.

"Sophia kidnap you for rock time?" she asked as I approached.

"It was educational," I grinned. "Did you know that pumice is the only rock that can float in water?"

"I did, actually. I've heard the rock facts many, many times."

Miguel looked up from his phone. "Ethan, settle this: prime Pittsburgh captain versus prime Washington captain?"

"Impossible comparison," I laughed. "One controls the game, the other finishes plays like nobody else. Different styles."

"Dodging the question," Miguel teased with a grin. "Okay, different angle: who did you look up to most? Whose game did you study?"

"The star forward from Detroit," I answered instantly. "Maybe not the obvious pick for goals alone, but his hands, his hockey sense—that's the ideal for me."

Miguel's eyes lit up. "Oh, him. The wizard. Less common answer. Respect."

The music changed to something with a stronger Latin rhythm, and Elena appeared, grabbing both Miguel and Mia by the hands. "Enough hockey talk! Time to dance!"

Miguel groaned but allowed himself to be pulled toward the makeshift dance floor. Mia stayed put, throwing me an apologetic glance.

"Do I really have to dance?" she asked her mother.

"Yes," Elena replied. "Everyone dances on Día de Reyes. You too, Ethan!"

I held up my hands in surrender. "I'm afraid I'd only embarrass myself. I have hockey coordination, not dancing coordination."

"Excuses, excuses," Elena dismissed. "Mia will teach you. She's been taking dance classes since she was five."

Mia shot her mother a betrayed look. "Mamá!"

"What? It's true! All those years of lessons should be good for something besides pretty recital photos."

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