Page 27 of My Brother's Enemy
The one I wore was a Grays sweatshirt, but his was from his New York team. The fans would’ve been more upset about him wearing that than me wearing a football hoodie. I had to laugh.
He scowled. “Shut up.”
But his mouth twitched as he looked through the other sweatshirts in the back. When he was still looking a minute later, I sighed and tugged off the one I was wearing. I shoved it at him and reached for my original one.
“No.” He caught my hand, stopping me.
“It’s better if I wear a football hoodie than you wear your past team’s, and you know it.”
He growled as he let me go. “Swear to God, first thing I’m doing is filling this fucking truck with Grays apparel.” He yanked on his sweatshirt and glared as I finished, pulling my hair out and smoothing it down.
I paused. “What?”
He continued scowling, his eyes flicking to my sweatshirt. I started laughing again as understanding dawned. “I didn’t take you for a hockey snob.”
“I’m not.” He shrugged, his jaw still tight. “I like football, but I’m hockey.” He came around the front to where I’d gotten out. “You’re hockey too.”
“For now.”
He scoffed, turning toward the hospital. “Someone can’t skate like you do and shoot the way you do and not be hockey. You’re hockey.”
“Football’s been good to me,” I said simply. “Hockey hasn’t.”
“It will be.”
He sounded so confident, as if he just knew. But he didn’t. Hockey had been good tohim. He couldn’t know the future.
He glanced back and stopped to let me catch up.
I found myself holding my breath, a part of me waiting for him to get mad that I’d made him wait, but he didn’t. He turned and kept going. He went at my pace the rest of the way.
Once we got to the lobby, the doors slid open for him. Tyler walked briskly past the front desk and pushed the button for the elevators. He glanced over at me, giving me space. He didn’t crowd me. He wasn’t trying to guide me. The elevator arrived, and we stepped on.
A few other people got on with us, a mom and two teenaged boys. Tyler lifted a hand to the small of my back, but he didn’t actually touch me, just directed me over slightly.
One of the teens sucked in his breath, recognizing Tyler. He elbowed his friend.
“Ouch. Wha—” The kid shot his friend an irritated look, but quieted when he looked over at Tyler.
“Guys.” The mom shot them a look before her gaze followed theirs.
I didn’t know if she recognized Tyler or if her breath just shortened because of how hot he was. I couldn’t blame her. They were supposed to get off on the second floor, but when we got there, they didn’t move.
Tyler moved me closer to the side of the elevator, his hand now touching my back.
The doors began to close again before the woman reached out to stop it. “Guys.”
“Mom.” One of them swung his wide eyes pointedly toward Tyler.
She gentled her voice, giving us an apologetic glance. “Let’s go, boys.”
“Mom…” He tried again.
“Tate, get off this elevator now.”
He let out a dramatic sigh, his shoulders bunched as he followed his friend off the elevator. The mom turned back. “I’m so sorry about them. They’re fans. Good luck tomorrow night.”
The doors closed, and we were both quiet until we got to the fifth floor.
