Tate points at him. “That one. That’s the real reason.”
I laugh because it’s probably true. Abby would absolutely lose her mind if Tate tried to bail on us now.
Landon stands up and tests his balance, doing a spin that makes me shake my head. My brother has always been a show-off, but what can I say? So am I.
“Come on, slowpokes,” Landon calls out, already gliding a few feet away from the dock. “The ice is perfect today. Look at that! It’s like glass.”
I finish checking my own laces and push myself up. I step onto the ice carefully, testing my weight, and within seconds, I’m moving across the frozen surface. The cold air hits my face, making my cheeks burn, and I can’t help but let out a laugh.
Tate joins us, pushing off with a few tentative strokes before he gains confidence. We spend the first several minutes just skating, getting a feel for the ice, and warming up. The sun dips lower in the sky, painting the clouds orange and pink. It’sbeautiful and peaceful, and I briefly wonder what life would be like without the pressure of hockey and instead living like this, a normal life in the middle of nowhere.
“Hockey or just skating?” I ask, looking between Landon and Tate.
“Hockey,” Landon says, already moving toward the bench where we’ve stashed the equipment. “I didn’t drag everyone out here simply to skate around.”
I laugh because that’s so Landon. Even when we’re supposed to be relaxing, he needs to turn it into a competition. It’s part of why he’s so good, but sometimes I wish he could let loose without needing to win at everything.
“Fair point,” I say, following him back to the bench. “Tate, are you in?”
Tate nods, and we gather the sticks and puck that we brought with us.
“All right,” I say, looking between them. “What’s the format? Me against you two? God knows Tate needs all the help.”
Tate grins. “Let’s do two on one, but we’ll rotate so everyone gets to be the solo player.”
“Then let’s start with you two against me, because we all know I’m the better athlete,” I fire back.
“Fine, you’re on, and we are going to kick your ass.”
The game is intense, but I knew it would be. Landon hates to lose, and he especially hates losing to me. It’s why we have always played together—both of us are too competitive to play against each other.
Landon comes up beside me during a brief pause in our game to reset. “You’re playing like shit,” he says. “Is this what retirement looks like for you?”
“Says the guy who just fumbled that pass,” I shoot back. “Remember when you used to be good at this... just yesterday?”
“I am good at this,” Landon says defensively. “A lot better than you. We all know you have been riding on my coattails all these years.”
Tate skates over. “Are you two done, because for elite players, you’re both playing like shit.”
“Is that how it is?” Landon laughs, grabbing Tate by the hoodie and dragging him into his body.
“Yuck, are you done with the love fest?” I say.
“Yep,” Tate says, and then he takes off with the puck. He weaves between us, and for a moment, I think he might score. But Landon speeds after him, cutting him off at the goal line.
“Still got it, Coach,” Landon taunts. “But I remember you being faster than that.”
Tate grunts as he tries to maneuver around Landon. “That was before you started taking up all my time and distracting me with your ridiculous egos.”
“Blame us,” I say, stealing the puck from him. “I like that strategy.”
“You started it by suggesting I needed training wheels,” Tate calls after me as I skate toward the goal.
“That was a compliment!” I yell back. “I was saying at least then you’d stay upright!”
At one point, I sneak a pass through Tate’s legs, and Landon is there to slam it into the goal before Tate even realizes what happened.
“That was dirty,” Tate says, skating back toward us.
