Page 67 of Playing the Pucking Game
I sniffle as I walk across my room and give up fighting my tears.
As much as I’m grateful that Rett includes me, it’s impossible to forget that I’m not like him. No matter how hard I train, how much practice I put in, I’ll always be weaker.
He’s going to make it. I can already picture him living the high life in the NHL. His dream is to play for our hometown, the LA Vipers. He’ll probably do it, too. I love him, but that asshole gets everything he wants. Everything seems to fall into his lap; whereas, I have to work my ass off for everything I have.
I fall onto the end of my bed with a heavy sigh, tears streaking down my cheeks.
It’s pathetic. I don’t have a reason to cry, not really, but they fall regardless.
Sometimes, I really hate being a girl.
I wish Casey were here. She’s been gone on vacation with her dad for a little over a week, and I miss her like crazy. She’d understand how I’m feeling right now. She knows what it’s like to grow up in a man’s world, and the work we have to put in to making ourselves stand out.
I don’t want to be Everett Donnelly’s little sister. I want to be Parker Donnelly: kickass ice hockey player and all-around decent person. But everything I do gets overlooked because of him. I don’t want to be bitter about it. My brother is the best—not that I’ll ever tell him that to his face. I am proud to be his little sister. I just…I want to be more than just that.
I want…I want to stand on my own two feet and make waves in the world like I know he’s going to.
Maybe it would be easier if I were interested in something other than sports, or more specifically, ice hockey. It’s my life, just like it is his. The only difference is that I’m not good enough to go all the way like he is. If I want to dedicate my life to the sport, I’ll have to go about it a different way.
It’s not going to be easy. Hell, it’s going to be the opposite of easy. But I’m going to do everything in my power to make it happen.
One day, I’m going to be an athletic trainer in the NHL.
My eyes flick to my desk, where I’ve pinned my vision board for the future.
Hard work, determination, and focus. That, along with a whole load of luck, and I might just do it.
It’s either that or I resign myself to a life of being a little sister.
My teeth grind at the thought alone.
Finally, I flip open the first-aid box and pull out a wipe to clean myself up.
I have blood trickling down both of my legs, soaking into my socks. Sitting here feeling sorry for myself isn’t going to fix anything.
I’m wiping up my shin when a knock sounds on my door. I startle, but before I can say anything, an intimidatingly large body slips into my room.
“I thought you—what’s wrong?” Linc asks, his eyes widening with horror when he sees my tears.
Fuck’s sake.
Dropping the wipe, I drag the backs of my hands across my cheeks, trying to clear them away.
“Nothing. I’m just being stupid.”
“Does it hurt that bad?” he asks as he invites himself in and moves closer.
He might only be sixteen, but already, he looks like a hockey player. Gone is the scrawny boy I remember from childhood, and in his place is what is going to be a professional athlete. I let my eyes wander for a moment, taking in the definition of his abs and those V lines that?—
Shit.
“N-No, it’s just…it’s nothing.”
He moves closer still, not put off by my emotional breakdown.
“Let me,” he says, snatching the abandoned wipe from my lap and dropping to his knees at my feet.
“Oh, no you don’t need to—ow shit,” I hiss when he touches the wipe to my scrape.
