Page 6 of The Sweetest Risk

“How long are your parents and sisters going to be in town?” Bradley asks me.

“A couple more days. They fly back to Canada on Monday.” I slide on my shoes and begin tying them.

“I’d like to see them. Are they going to meet us outside?”

“Yeah.” I am actually excited to see my family. It has been a bit since they have come down to Dallas to watch a game. I try to go back as often as possible during the off-season, but it’s definitely not enough. My goal this year is to try and get upthere more often. I don’t have a wife or family yet. Nothing is really here for me other than my job and I guess The Becketts, who have really become my surrogate family. They have always welcomed me with open arms. Well, everyone except Brooke.

“So is my family, and Jen of course. It’ll be cool for our parents and siblings to finally meet.”

Oh good. Brooke will be there. I haven’t talked to her since she accidentally texted me last week. That was one of the best texts I’ve gotten in a while. I cannot wait to give her crap about detailing what I apparently did to her in a very steamy sex dream. There is a little tug in my gut at the thought of seeing her face get flushed and annoyed at me. I pull my clean shirt down and throw on my newest hat from my brand, Lawson, turning it backwards.

“Hey bro, that design turned out great. I like that it’s clean and simple with just your initials.”

“Thanks man. Yeah, we have another one that is just going to have Lawson sewn across the front. I think they want to make the thread green. I get to see a prototype in a few days.” I was strongly encouraged to create my own brand since I am basically the face of the Storm and they knew it would be beneficial to me financially. But I insisted that if I were to create this brand, fifty percent of the proceeds would go to charities that help fund cancer research. My grandmother died of breast cancer and I want to do everything I can to make a difference and help find a cure.

We both stand up and grab our duffles and make our way out of the arena, where as expected our families are waiting. My mom, whose blonde hair is starting to turn whiter every time I see her, holds out her arms and has a huge smile on her face. “There he is! Congratulations sweetie. I am so proud of you.” I lean down and embrace my mom, who has always been mybiggest supporter. She would drive me to every practice, every game, every tournament. I owe her everything.

I feel a large hand pat my shoulder. My dad says, “I am proud of you, too, son. Okay, Jo, you are suffocating the boy. Plus I want a bear hug.” My mom finally eases up on her hug and I turn toward my dad. “Seriously, I am so proud of you, Tristan. All your hard work has really paid off and you seem like you still love what you are doing out there on the ice.”

“Thanks, Pop. I really do love it. It means a lot that you all made the trip.”

“We wouldn’t have missed it.”

Then I see my sisters, Andi and Nora, who people always assume are twins because of how much they look alike. The only difference is that Andi has dark hair like me and my dad, and Nora has blonde hair like my mom. But otherwise, their faces, – down to the shade of their icy blue eyes – are exactly the same. I am the only one of the Lawson children to inherit my mom’s hazel eyes. Save for the eyes, I am a dead ringer for my dad, who also played hockey when he was younger. He never went pro but he passed down his love for the sport onto me. The nice thing about my dad is that he never pressured me to pursue hockey or even want to make it a career. He is not haunted by his past and in turn, never made me follow in his footsteps because he wants to live out some sort of lost dream. I always had the choice to play or not to play. My dad was perfectly happy with his life as a regular old dad who provided financially for his family, while my mom stayed at home with us and took care of basically everything else in our lives.

Busy shamelessly ogling every single one of my teammates that walked out of the arena, my sisters didn’t notice me approaching them. “What the hell are you both doing?”

They finally notice my presence and both give me a hug at the same time, practically knocking me off my feet.

“Ahhh! I am so excited to see you, big brother!” Nora says.

“Me too!” Andi says. They both loosen their grip on my neck. “Oh and to answer your question, checking out your teammates. They are all extremely hot.”

“Ew. Don’t talk about my teammates like that.” I grimace.

“Why? I am single and ready to mingle,” Andi protests. Then Andi looks over my shoulder at Bradley, who is practically making out with Jen. Those two are nauseatingly cute. “It’s a damn shame your bestie has a fiancée. I would be all over that.” I see my little sister’s eyes devour my best friend.

“Talk to Nora about what you want to do with men. Do you think I want to hear those things? I am your brother, Andi.”

“Oh and you are such a saint, right? You’ve never seen someone and wanted to pursue them? I know you, Tristan. You are no saint. Far from it, if I recall.”

“Who is that behind Bradley?” Nora nods towards the Becketts, and then I see her. My arch nemesis, who apparently decided to venture out of her introverted cave to come to one of our games. I almost didn’t recognize her since she is wearing Bradley’s jersey. The only thing that acts as a classic Brooke identifier is the knotted pink headband she always wears.

Brooke catches sight of us looking over at her and we lock eyes for a second. Her face suddenly matches her headband. She flutters her eyes and looks back at her parents, trying to actively engage in their conversation.

Without looking away from Brooke, I answer, “That’s Bradley’s little sister, Brooke.”

“Wait.That’sBrooke?” Nora points toward Bradley’s feisty little sister. “The same Brooke you evidently hate? She’s hot. I’m surprised that you hate her, Tristan.”

“No, it makes sense. Brooke’s not even close to Tristan’s type,” Andi pipes in.

Before I can delve into the comment “evidently hate,” Andi and Nora make their way over to where Brooke is standing. Jesus Christ. Once they lock in on something, they are impossible to stop. I run after them, but before I can intervene, they are shaking hands with Daphne, Bill and Brooke.

Dammit.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Brooke. Tristan has said nothing but great things about you!” Andi exclaims.

“He talks about you all the time,” Nora adds. I feel myself starting to turn the color of Brooke’s headband.Jesus, get a grip.If I did ever talk about Brooke, it was to comment at what a pain in my ass she is.

---