Page 130 of Rule 2: Never Join a Christmas Dating Show
“I know.”
Thoughts of Sebastian fill my mind.
“Who is it? Willow or Flora?”
“What?”
“You’re in love with one of them.”
I stare.
“I can tell a man in love,” Dmitri explains. “I am Russian. We are romantic people.”
I snort. “I’ve only ever seen you have hookups.”
“My Romantic Era has not happened yet,” Dmitri says. “It will be strong. Powerful. Russian. Now, I enjoy hookups.”
I roll my eyes, but my lips totally twitch.
But perhaps he’s right. Am I in love?
Actual love? The kind I watch in movies? The kind that is supposed to last a lifetime? The goal of everySeeking Mr. Rightseason?
But I am in love.
With a man.
I wait for the flicker of distaste, but nothing about Sebastian could possibly be distasteful. I don’t care what Bryce thinks. No way.
God, I’m in love. Happiness sweeps through me, then I remember everything I shouldn’t.
I’m in love with a man whose life I’ve ruined. I tighten my grip on my stick and get into position for the puck drop.
Fuck.I do not want to play now.
The Montrealian center leans toward me, his lips drawn into a smirk, the sneering shape more emphasized by his spindly mustache. “Missing your flowers? Ready to go to sleep again?”
I hate that we’re playing Montreal again. I hate it. I hate that the last time I played them I had to be assisted off the ice.
But I’m not going to let them win. They might be rough, desperate to regain their reputation, but I will be rougher. I have lost too much. I will not lose this.
The puck drops, and I shove my shoulder into Montreal as I slam the puck back to Noah.
Montreal’s eyes go comically wide, and I skate toward Noah.
A whistle screeches. The ref glowers over his black-and-white striped shirt. “Face-off violation.”
Fuck.
I’ve never been called on that before. Coach’s always calm Swedish expression is less calm. My teammates look confused because that isn’t a mistake I do.
I look away. Whatever. It doesn’t matter.
We reset, and the puck drops again. This time I lose the second face-off. Probably something to do with focus, and I hear Montreal laughing and murmuring something more about flowers.
I inhale. I’ve given up too much for this game. All my life, I’ve just focused on hockey. I didn’t pay enough attention to what my brother was doing. Maybe I rarely tried to stop Bryce was because all the things he said about Sebastian were things that he could have said about me, and I didn’t want Bryce’s sneers and accusations and slurs to be directed toward me.
I wasn’t brave.
