Page 5 of The Alternate Captain
“Hopefully we’ll get both Preston brothers here next season. But not a word to my sister.”
“Well, shit. Then we won’t need to watch these replays ever again,” he says.
“Of course we will. Preparation is no joke.”
“You take yourself too seriously,” he says. “But, speaking of preparation, we’ve got ten minutes until we need to head to the rink.”
My phone, Ffordey’s, and Danny’s all ping in unison. Ffordey grins as he checks his screen.
“Vicky’s filming entrances. Better warn Bettsy to put his teeth in.” He taps at his screen before sliding his phone back into his pocket.
“Speaking of Bettsy—where the fuck is he? Not like him to miss a beckon from you, Cap,” Danny says.
I frown at him. “He said he had another engagement. I mean, he’s probably sleeping until he needs to leave.”
Ryan strides back into the living room. “Suits on then, boys.”
Ten minutes. Ten minutes and here starts what could be the biggest evening of my life. Ten minutes and I’ll be readying myself to win.
I can’t describe howmuch I hate hockey. Yet here I am, in a crowd of people, all cheering as my brother smashes an opposing forward into the boards. The entire section of plexiglass vibrates with the impact as the guy falls to the ice.
Mike wrists the puck towards one of his teammates, who clears it from the defensive zone before skating towards the bench. Just before he reaches the door, his whole body flies backwards as he’s hit from the front.
“Oh, my God,” I gasp, covering my eyes. I’ve seen this happen a thousand times before, but I still hate it. I’ve watched him pick teeth up from the ice. It’s brutal and the whole thing makes me sick with worry.
“Are you okay?” The woman next to me leans in and offers a smile. This must be Lauren.
“Not really,” I squeak, letting my hands sink back to my lap. I watch Mike clamber to his skates. He’s off the ice in a flash and back on the bench with the rest of his teammates as if nothing happened.
“First time?”
“Sadly not.”
“Boyfriend?” she asks.
“Brother,” I say.
“Ah, I thought I hadn’t seen you before. That’s my husband,” she says, pointing towards a guy on the ice.
“I hate hockey,” I say.
“I sort of understand that,” she says. “It’s the stench for me. Scott’s hands always stink, no matter how hard he scrubs them.”
I chuckle. Thankfully, I don’t have to smell my brother’s hands, but the lingering sweaty-hockey-player aroma is not one anyone can forget.
“Who’s your brother?” she asks.
“Mike Betts. But I don’t make a habit of coming to his games. I’m just in town for an audition tomorrow and—” I stop talking because I doubt she wants to hear about that.
“Bettsy is hilarious,” she laughs. “I didn’t realise he had a sister.”
Three thousand people let out a sigh of disappointment as our number nineteen’s shot hits the crossbar and sails out of play.
“There’s two of us. I’m the youngest,” I say.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Lauren.”
“Kelly,” I say.
