Page 126 of Full Tilt
Holt frowns. “Probably not, no.”
Tommy nods his head lightly, like he knew that fact all along. “Good. I’m glad they wouldn’t—because they wouldn’t for me if I had a sibling and their new partner had behaved in the ways I have.” Tommy presses his palms together in a prayer-like manner as he edges toward my brother, eyes boring deep into Holt’s. “So, let meshow youhow much I love Jenna. I know we don’t have much time before you return to Europe, but give me a chance and watch the way I worship the ground that she walks on. I have zero excuses other than I’ve not had the easiest life, but neither has Jenna, and I know shit has been tough for you too.”
I watch the way Holt swallows thickly. My brother is a sensitive guy, playing in a sport that demands nothing but respect between teammates and from the opposition. He’s listening to Tommy, and I’m so damn proud of them both right now.
Pride is a difficult pill to swallow, as is bitterness.
“Your sister has changed my life; even if she didn’t realize she was doing it, she was. Sometimes, we’re so blinded by our own agenda that we forget to stop and listen to other people and admit when we’re wrong. I was wrong to lash out at you that day, Holt. I let my ego get the better of me. All I’m asking you to do is watch me as I build the bridges that only I am responsible for burning.”
Tommy turns to look at me, reaching out and taking one of my hands in his. He intertwines our fingers, and suddenly, I’m havingreallyinappropriate thoughts involving sports bras, zippers, and this very hallway we’re standing in.
“Jenna told me that pecan pie is her favorite and it’s yours too.” Tommy smirks down at me. “And since she hates cooking, I figured I could stop by and bring you one I’d made.”
Holt stands motionless. He wasn’t expecting any of that from Tommy. It takes him a good few seconds to reply, and I’d trade anything to know his thoughts.
“Sure. Let’s go eat,” he finally confirms. “Why not?”
Holt spins on his heel to make for the kitchen when Tommy lands a hand on his shoulder, asking him to wait a second.
My brother turns back to him.
“Jenna tells me that you don’t leave Brooklyn for another couple of days and that you like a bit of hockey.” He reaches into his back pocket. “When I was younger, my mom always said that ice-level seats beat any corporate-box bullshit you could buy.” Fetching out three tickets, he holds them out to Holt. “So, I went ahead and secured three seats for our home game against the Scorpions. The third one is for my mom, Helen. She will be there, and I know she’d really like to meet you.” He smiles at me, the corners of his eyes crinkling with warmth. “She’s practically vibrating to meet the woman I love.”
Holt’s large hand wraps around the tickets. I haven’t seen paper tickets in a long while, and I love that Tommy got them for us.
Rolling his lips together, Holt stares down at the seat row and number. “These are hot property.” He lifts his head to Tommy. “Sure. Count me in.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
TOMMY
“Holy HELL!” Emmett announces as we take to the ice for the first period following the warm-up.
Archer slides alongside us. “I have never, in the history of playing for this team, seen an arena this full or heard it this noisy.”
“It’s like the goddamn colosseum or something,” I muse, gazing around.
Archer’s right; I’ve never seen the arena like this. Not during fights, not at any game I’ve played in or spectated.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and adrenaline races through my body. This game is huge—a chance for old rivals to make a statement against each other in a fixture that promises to be significant in the race for the playoffs.
Archer nods his head across the ice, the corner of his lip tipping up. If he thinks I haven’t seen her yet, then he’s wrong. In a crowd of over twenty thousand, I could spin until I’m dizzy and still point her out.
The game’s about to start, and I absolutely don’t have time, but fuck it. Heading straight toward the plexiglass she’s sitting behind, flanked by my mom and Holt, I reach the edge and come to a stop, throwing up ice onto the board.
Our dates to the outdoor ice rink and the beach never made it onto the internet but given that she’s wearing a jersey withWilliamsstamped across her back, there’s a chance that some of the crowd will connect the dots and remember my former last name. I don’t plan on making a big deal or a formal statement about reverting back toWilliams. My silence will speak all the words that need to be said—I’m done with Alex and with the Schneider last name. My “dad’s” legacy can die quietly while I build the life I’ve always wanted.
The life I deserve.
With no one sitting in front of them, I flip a gloved hand toward me, smiling at my mom as Jenna stands from her seat and takes the couple of steps down. I can’t be sure if the arena has genuinely fallen quieter or if I’m zoning out the background noise, but all I can focus on is the dark-haired beauty wearing the jersey I got her specifically for tonight.
With a physical barrier between us, it would be impossible to hold a conversation. Not that I need to open my mouth to say everything I need.
In her sneakers and me in my skates, I tower over Jenna as she looks up at me, eyes sparkling with curiosity.
Tucking my stick under my arm, I twist my gloved finger around, and she does as I asked.
I form a heart with my hands and press it against the plexiglass, right over the name on Jenna’s back.
