Page 155 of Make the Play

I’m not wearing pants with structural integrity

Zoe

By the time I make it down to my seat, the energy in the arena is already electric. The lights are pulsing, the crowd’s still filing in, and music is thumping through the stands.

I spot Tamara near the glass, waving me over with a grin and a bag of popcorn tucked under one arm. Her hair is perfect, her outfit is cooler than mine, and she’s giving off that effortless cool-wife vibe that I will simply never master.

Beside her is Lulu in a cropped pink Storm tee and high-waisted jeans, sipping a drink like she’s here to enjoy the show and stir up just enough trouble to keep things interesting. Every time I see her, I wonder why I love her so much. And then she opens her mouth, and I remember.

“Glad you could make it,” Lulu says as I slide into the seat beside her.

“I was working,” I mutter, adjusting my jersey. “And maybe waylaid hooking up with one of your brother’s teammates in a staff hallway.”

Tamara snorts. “Good girl.”

“I didn’t ask,” Lulu says mildly, without looking over. “But thanks for the visual.”

“Oh, please,” Tamara says, sipping her drink. “You caught Eli and me making out on the kitchen counter once and lived.”

Lulu shudders. “That’s burned into my corneas. I had to stage a personal exorcism.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Tamara says. “You literally told me you were happy he was finally getting laid regularly.”

“I lied. Foryou.”

I bite back a laugh and pat Lulu’s leg. “You’re a good sister.”

“I’m atraumatizedsister,” Lulu says. “I may transfer to another bloodline.”

“Rude,” Tamara says, feigning offense. “What are you gonna do, get married off to one of Eli’s teammates?”

“Maybe…” She pauses, squinting at the ice where warm-ups are finishing. “I mean, Reid’s hot.”

Tamara nods. “Reid’sterrifyingand hot. But also about fourteen years older than you, meaning Eli would try to kill him and die. Do you want your brother todie, Lu?”

Lulu rolls her eyes and points a thumb at me. “She’sliving in an age gap romance! Chase’s maturity is on par with a frat boy who made a wish to become a Labrador, and italmostworked.”

I snort. “That is deeply accurate and also offensive.”

“It’s a gift.”

“And our gap is far less than fourteen years.”

She huffs a sigh and we all stand as the anthem starts. Shortly after, the puck drops and the game kicks off fast. The Stormtakes immediate possession, with Ryan shouting orders from center. Logan is smooth as hell on the breakout, and Eli looks locked in from his very first shift. Everyone’s crisp, fast, and dangerous.

And then there’s Chase.

He hits the ice with all the subtlety of a wrecking ball, legs moving faster than pistons, eyes tracking every play like he’s starving for it. His first shift alone includes a monster hit, a blocked shot, and a chirp that’s so clearly rude that even I feel offended by it through the glass.

The second period starts rougher—one of the opposing forwards throws a late elbow, and Chase snaps. He drops his gloves so fast I barely process it.

Tamara’s already grinning. “Here we go.”

Chase lands the first punch, then the second. The guy gets in a few decent hits, but Chase doesn’t flinch, just takes them and shrugs them off, then keeps going on the power of pure vengeance alone.

Lulu lets out a strangled noise. “Why is this kinda hot? That’ssowrong. I feel wrong.”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Tamara says. “Adrenaline sex is a real thing. Like, scientifically. Eli’s a monster after a win, especially if there’s a fight. Or overtime. Or—honestly, if he just sees me in jeans that make my ass look good.”

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