He pauses, planning his words in advance for maximum impact. “What about Cece?” he says, like it’s a knife he’s pulling from a drawer. “You think she keeps her place at Lakeview if you walk away?”
My jaw locks. He thinks he’s still got me cornered.
“I’m not walking away from her,” I say. “I’m walking toward me. Her tuition is covered for the rest of the year. If she needs to find a new house to live in, I’m sure she can. If I need to find a new house to live in, I will.”
He stares.
“Cece’s fine. She’s thriving. You know why? Because she gets to do what she loves. She gets to choose. And now, I’m choosing that for myself.”
He scoffs. “You’re choosing a maybe career in a sport for goons. That’s not the life you were born into. You have a legacy to uphold.”
“I didn’t ask for that legacy. I didn’t ask to be born into this family. Hockey is what I love. Hockey and Luna. And I’m good at it. I can make a name for myself and build my own legacy with my talent and hard work. That’s what I want. Not some inherited job I did nothing to earn.”
That one hits. His face finally cracks, and there’s a flicker of something beneath the surface. But I don’t wait for whatever comes next. Instead, I stand up. “I’m declaring for the draft. I’ve already told Coach.”
He opens his mouth, and I walk out before he can use it. I’m not interested in what he has to say. The blackmail. The manipulation. I’m over it.
The second I step back into the elevator, I exhale so hard my knees go weak. The doors close. The mirror shows me the same image. Same hoodie, same damp hair. But now? Now he looks like someone I recognize. A guy I want to be.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. It’s Cece.
Cece: DID U TELL HIM????? ARE YOU OK DO YOU NEED ICE CREAM OR A LAWYER??
I grin for the first time all morning and send back a quick reply before she zips out ten more.
Me: Did it. I’m good.
Another text hits before I can lock the screen.
Cece: IM SO PROUD OF YOU now go cry into a cat and get ready to SCREAM for your gf at the game. bring signs.
I lean back against the elevator wall, and let the events of the past week seep in. This is really happening.
Cece insisted we get there early.
Which means we’ve been in the front row right near the glass for over half an hour. We’re both wrapped in three layers of team merch and armed with an arsenal of snacks she smuggled in like we were prepping for a full-day festival.
Dev’s next to her, wearing a jersey. And I finally understand the smile he gets when he turns to my sister. I get it. The absolute adoration that lights up his usual stoic features when he looks at her.
The anticipation builds to a crescendo, tipping over the edge into an explosion when Luna skates out onto the ice. Cheers echo so loud they rattle the glass. The rest of the team emerges behind her in synchronized formation, tapping their sticks on the ice as the announcer runs through their names.
And there she is with her helmet under one arm, braid tucked into her jersey, jaw set like she’s going to war. My stomach flips. She doesn’t look nervous. She looks ready.
“Your girl’s dialed in,” Dev says, nudging me.
Cece’s already filming, eyes glittering with pride. “She’s gonna tear it up.”
I nod but can’t find the words to agree. Because the lump in my throat is too big. I’ve never wanted anything for someone else this badly.
Not even for myself.
The game is beautiful. What hockey is meant to be. The puck movements are fast and precise. Luna’s line dominates the second period, and she scores the tying goal in the third with a one-timer that has the crowd roaring.
When they win, when the buzzer sounds and the entire arena surges to its feet, I don’t even realize I’m yelling until Cece elbows me. “You’re gonna blow out your vocal cords, Bo Bo.”
I don’t care. I’m already pounding on the glass, doing my best to be the loudest in the arena. It’s freeing. This lack of concern for my image. I don’t care what people think of me or the Whitakers. All I care about is letting my girl know how proud of her I am.
The team piles on the ice, gloves and sticks scattered across the surface. Their arms are around each other, and the support and love these women have for each other is palpable.
