The inside of the rink is cold and loud—the familiar sounds of skates on ice, sticks hitting pucks, parents cheering from the stands.Ally shivers slightly in her dress and jacket, so I shrug off mine without thinking, draping it over her shoulders.
She looks up at me, surprised.
“What?You're cold.”
“I didn't say anything.”
“You were going to.”
“I was going to say thank you, actually.”
“Oh.”I grin.“Well, you're welcome.”
When we're inside the rink, there's a bantam league game in progress.Kids in green and blue jerseys are skating their hearts out, while parents cheer from the stands.
“Jay...”Ally starts, clearly confused, pulling my jacket tighter around her shoulders.It swallows her, and something about seeing her in my clothes makes my chest tight.
I guide her toward the stands, my hand settling on the small of her back.“Just watch.”
We climb up a few rows and find seats with a clear view of the ice.The game is in full swing.It's a little sloppy compared to college hockey, but with that raw enthusiasm that reminds me why I fell in love with this sport in the first place.
“Okay, I give up.”She turns to me with narrowed eyes.“Why are we watching peewee hockey?And why am I wearing a dress to do it?”
“It's not peewee.It's bantam, and you're wearing that dress because you look incredible in it.”I nod toward the ice, scanning until I find him.Number seventeen in green, dark hair visible under his helmet, skating with the kind of reckless confidence that's definitely genetic.“We're watching because that's my little brother.”
Her head whips toward the game.“You have a brother?”
“Owen.He's fifteen.”I watch him chase down a loose puck, and pride emanates from my chest.“He's been playing since he was four.Kid's got more natural talent than I ever did.”
As if to prove my point, Owen intercepts a pass and takes off down the ice, weaving through defenders with surprising agility.His footwork is clean, his positioning perfect.He winds up for a shot—
It goes wide, hitting the post with a clang.
I groan.“He always shoots too early.I've told him a thousand times that he needs to wait for the goalie to commit.”
“Sounds like someone else I know.”
I shoot her a look.“I don't shoot too early.”
“You pushed yourself too early.Same principle.”
“Okay, Doc.Point taken.”
On the ice, Owen recovers, chasing down the rebound with the kind of determination I recognize.He doesn't give up.Never has.Even when he was five and could barely stay upright, he'd fall down and get right back up, over and over, until he got it right.
“Does he know you're here?”Ally asks, pulling my jacket tighter around herself.
“Not yet.”I lean back in my seat, watching him set up in the offensive zone.“I try to come to his games when I can, but with my schedule and his...it's hard.He lives with our mom about an hour from here, so I don't get to see him as much as I'd like.”
“That must be tough.”
“It is.”The admission comes easier than I expected.Things always do when I'm around her.“He's the main reason I signed with the Leviathans, actually.Monterey's only a few hours from where we grew up.Close enough that I can come home for holidays, watch his games, and be around for the important stuff.”
Ally is quiet for a moment, and when I glance over, she's watching me with an expression I can't quite read.She looks soft in the dim arena lights, wrapped in my jacket, that red dress peeking out underneath.
“What?”
“Nothing.”She shakes her head slightly.“You just keep surprising me.”
