“Good surprises or bad surprises?”
“I haven't decided yet.”
Owen gets the puck again, and this time he doesn't rush the shot.He waits, fakes left, draws the goalie out of position—
And buries it top corner.
I'm on my feet before I realize it, cheering loud enough that a few parents turn to stare.“That's my boy!Let's go!”
Owen's head snaps toward the stands, and even from here I can see his face light up when he spots me.He raises his stick in acknowledgment before his teammates mob him.
I sit back down, grinning like an idiot.
“You're such a proud big brother,” Ally says, and there's something soft in her voice that makes my heart stutter.
“He's a good kid.Works harder than anyone I know.”I pause, watching Owen skate back to the bench for a line change.“He wants to go pro, like me.Has since he was eight.”
“Think he'll make it?”
“If he doesn't shoot too early, maybe.”
She laughs—actually laughs—and the sound hits me right in the chest.I want to hear that sound every day for the rest of my life.
“So,” she says, settling more comfortably in her seat, my jacket still wrapped around her, “is this your move?Bring girls to watch your little brother play hockey?”
“You're the first.”
She turns to look at me, eyebrows raised.“Really?”
“Really.”I hold her gaze, letting her see that I'm serious.“I don't bring people here, Ally.This is...this is mine.Owen's games, watching him play—it's the one thing I keep separate from everything else.The team, the media, the campus stuff.This is just family.”
“Then why bring me?”
The question hangs between us, heavy with meaning.
I reach over and take her hand, threading my fingers through hers.“Because you're not just anyone.You never have been.”
She doesn't pull away.Doesn't make a sarcastic comment.Just looks at me with those brown eyes that see right through every wall I've ever built.
“Jay...”she starts.
“You don't have to say anything.”I squeeze her hand gently.“Just...watch the game with me.Be here.That's enough.”
She's quiet for a long moment.Then she leans into me slightly, her shoulder pressing against mine, and turns her attention back to the ice.
“He really does shoot too early,” she murmurs.
I laugh, wrapping my arm around her shoulders and pull her closer.“I know.It's a family curse.”
“Maybe I should tape his thigh too.Seems to be the only way to get you Cross boys to listen.”
“Careful, Hart.I might get jealous.”
“Please.You're mouth is the only one I'm taping.”
I get the implication the second a slow smirk draws across her lips.Fuck, am I getting hard?In a very cold rink?Yes.
If she notices, she doesn't call me out.She places her hand on my thigh, and gently strokes my jeans.
