Page 8 of The Sweetest Risk

“I haven’t really noticed.” I shrug and take a drink of my water. Of course I noticed. I’ve always noticed.

“Oh, please, Tristan. You have goo-goo eyes anytime you look in her direction or if we even say her name. Your face lights up in a way that I’ve never seen before. Out of ALL the women you’ve been with…”

“I haven’t been with that many women.” My stomach twists that my sisters have been keeping track. I guess I am their olderbrother and they have been my shadows from the moment they could walk, always following me around the house. Getting in my business.

“Uh, yes you have,” Andi and Nora say in unison.

I don’t like talking about my relationships with my sisters. I feel pressure to set an example for how they should be treated by their partner, and I feel like I’ve failed them because of my lack of long-term relationships. I’ve never truly had a girlfriend. I always use the excuse of my grueling hockey schedule, but even I knew that is a bullshit excuse. People across the league are married and have kids and they make it work. It’s not that I don’t want to make it work. Trust me, I do.

“Whatever. And I donothave goo-goo eyes around Brooke.” I reach over and steal some of Nora’s beignet. Avoiding eye contact at all costs. If I can read them like a book, they can read me, too. “You both have it all wrong. Brooke and I hate each other.”

Nora raises her eyebrows and takes another bite of her beignet. “I don’t know, big brother. You can cut the tension between you two with a knife.”

I raise my glass to my lips. “Maybe because we want to kill each other.”

“Or you want to rip each other’s clothes off,” Andi says mid-chew.

I do a spit-take with my water. That catches our parent’s attention, who were still busy talking about their travel plans. It feels like the whole restaurant is looking our way. I lower the bill of my cap to deter anyone from recognizing me.

“Are you all right over there, honey?” My mom’s signature worried look crosses her face. I give her a thumbs-up as I clear my throat for what seems like the thousandth time. Thankfully my parents’ attention returns to each other as I take the cloth napkin and clean the mess I made. People at other tables alsoreturn to their own conversations. Andi and Nora are snickering across the table, looking satisfied with themselves. Some things never change.

“You both are toddlers.” I wave the server down, desperately needing to change the subject. “Hey, can we have the check? All on one tab. Thanks.”

She smiles, nods and heads toward the register.

I reach in my pocket to get my wallet. I glance over at the two goofballs that are my little sisters. They are just smiling at me and shaking their heads. “What? Stop looking at me like that.”

“We will, once you admit to us that you are so in love with Brooke Beckett,” Andi says before taking another drink of her mimosa.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to get used to you looking like fools all the time, because that will never happen.”

The server returns and hands me a black check-holder. I raise my hand up to my dad before he can protest, stick my card in the slot and hurriedly hand it back to the server, who by the look on her face, has clocked who I am. She not-so-subtly rakes her eyes along my body. I mean, my face is on multiple billboards in the metroplex. I can’t exactly hide who I am in this city. Even if people don’t watch hockey, they recognize me regardless.

“Never say never, Tristan. Life has a way of surprising you,” Nora adds.

Life isn’t going to go my way on this one. There are too many obstacles, one being Brooke’s dating rule and the other being her older brother. I only tell my sisters about one of those obstacles, because the other one shouldn’t matter or have any stock in why I can’t be with Brooke. “She is Bradley’s little sister. She’s off-limits anyway.”

7

“Good practice today, guys!” Brett yells in the locker room. “A few more weeks until the playoffs. Let’s stay focused.”

I pull my practice jersey off my back and throw it against the wooden panel of my locker.

Bradley is sitting on the bench in front of his locker, which so happens to be next to mine. He pulls off his skates and places them on the ground. “So dude, I haven’t seen you take a girl home in a while. Are you feeling all right?” Bradley puts his hand to my forehead, checking to see if I have a fever.

I swat his hand away and growl, “Bro, I’m fine. Just been focusing on the game, man. Didn’t you just hear Adamski? Playoffs are right around the corner. My head has to be in it fully.” I really don’t want to talk about this with him right now.

“I’ve known you for almost a decade, man. You’ve never taken a break from women. If you have the opportunity to take a girl home, you always seize it.”

Even though what Bradley is saying is the truth, it still stings that my reputation with women has gotten so to a level so egregious that my best friend is calling me out on it.

I shrug off his comment. “I guess there haven’t been any opportunities then.”

“Um, were you not there at my engagement party? I saw those two blondes at the bar with you. I would say those are two opportunities right there.”

“Well, I decided not to take it. Just because an opportunity presents itself doesn’t mean you have to take it, bro. They were too desperate for attention. I am not about that anymore.”

“Are you telling me that my best friend for almost a decade, Tristan Peter Lawson…”

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