Page 58 of My Brother's Teammates

A week under our roof, and we’re all losing our fucking minds. I’ve never been a fan of keeping secrets, and the fact that I’m having to keep a secret from my best friend, my captain, is eating me alive.

She’s the forbidden fruit, and now that we’ve had a taste, she’s the only fruit we want to eat.

Ah, shit.

Had to go there, didn’t you, Ro?

That’ll absolutely help you win the fucking game.

Another glance around the boards, and I come up empty. I can’t see her. Maybe Harrison just told us she was here to fuck with us, to see if we’d react. It wouldn’t be that surprising after that disaster of a dinner.

“Are you planning on playing hockey at some point today or just fucking around?” Speaking of the devil himself, he skates by me on an icing call.

I can’t see the scowl behind his hockey mask, but it’s in his voice.

Goddammit.

He’s right, though. At this point, I might as well put on a sparkly leotard and trade my hockey skates for figure skates. While I may not be able to do those twirling jumps, I’m sure I can work it out. I’ve got to be better at figure skating than I am at playing hockey right about now.

“Dude. What the fuck is wrong with you?” He’s not letting up. Don’t blame him. Two in a minute is fucking woeful.

Oh, you know, just picturing your sister stripping for me and imagining all the dirty things that we could do to her. That about sums it up. Oh, and I’m the worst friend in the history of friends.

That’s all right there, loaded on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t utter a single word. I don’t tell him that after Charlotte and her piece of shit boyfriend broke up, she moved in with us. I sure as fuck don’t tell him we’ve all seen her in her birthday suit. Or that we’ve all had our tongues in her fucking body, either.

Instead, I hang my head like the asshole I am because I can’t even look him in the eye.

“Yeah, I know.” I sigh, pulling off my helmet and sweeping the damp hair off my forehead. I hazard a glance in his direction, meeting the same blue eyes he shares with his sister, and all I see is concern.

“I’m good. Just having an off day, that’s all. Nothing to worry about.” My voice sounds steadier than I feel as I try to reassure him.

We need to figure out how to talk to Harrison, tell him everything, and soon.

It’s the only way to make things right, and get rid of this black cloud hanging over all our heads.

Coach calls a time-out and beckons me over to the bench. This is it. He’s gonna tell me to sit on my ass for the rest of the game and let my backup take over.

Shit.

My stomach sinks.

We’re barely back at the bench when one of the rookies points at the screen. “Fournier, isn’t that your sister?”

My eyes briefly meet Mateo’s before he flicks his gaze to the screen. Everyone looks at Charlotte and the dorky guy she’s here with. And for a fraction of a second, I join them. She’s damn near got her back to him, her face hard-set in a frown, and her arms hugging her body.

This guy’s no threat to any of us.

Who I am concerned about, however, is Jace. He’s chewing on his mouth guard like a dog with a new Kong toy, but worse than that, Harrison is watching Jace watching Charlotte.

Another crack forms in their friendship right in front of my eyes. Harrison’s eyes narrow as he clenches his jaw.

The level of expectation around the arena notches up to an eleven, and the cool air sizzles with the same anticipation everyone feels before gloves hit the ice and fists fly.

Harrison knows.

He might not know know, but he knows something. And something’s more than nothing. There’s no containing this during a game, only waiting to see where the cards fall.

It’s like watching a grenade getting the pin pulled right in front of my eyes. Frozen in place, helpless, breath caught in my chest. Too afraid to move, but needing to act, to speak, to do something.

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