Chapter 1Mackenzie
Summer of freshman year
“Hockey is just a guy’s sport, you know?” It was the last thing I felt like hearing at the end of a hard first day at hockey camp. All I wanted was to eat my dinner in peace. But the boy sitting across from me in the dining hall wouldn’t shut up. And between his casual misogyny and the way he talked with his mouth full of food, peace was hard to come by.
“See, girls are naturally weaker,” he explained as he gnawed on a chicken wing. “They’re not as fast, and nowhere near as strong.”
I was far too horrified by the massacre taking place inside his mouth to respond. The way his chewed food sloshed around was putting me off my own dinner, and yet I couldn’t seem to look away.
“Like you.” He pointed his chicken wing in my direction. “Way too short, especially for a goalie.”
I wasn’t sure the guy even realized he was being insulting. Given his cheery tone, we could easily have been talking about something as simple as the weather. Not his belief that girls didn’t belong on an elite ice hockey summer camp—or playing the game at all.
“Shows how much you know,” my brother said calmly from beside me. “Shorter goalies are usually much more agile. Mackenzie’s reflexes are insane.”
“Whatever,” the guy snorted. “I think we all know the only reason your dad opened the camp up to girls this year was to check the diversity box.”
“Actually—” My brother tried to object but Chicken Wings kept on talking.
“I guess having a few girls around camp isn’t theworstthing in the world.” He was grinning now, a large piece of his dinner hanging from his teeth. “Itisnice to have something pretty to look at.”
“Watch it, dude,” Max warned.
But I didn’t need my brother to defend me. I was already leaning forward on the table, smiling as sweetly as I could at the guy. “Yes, I guess you’re right, there’s obviously no way I could ever be as skilled as you.”
He winked. “You haven’t seen half my skills. Yet…”
“Seriously,” I continued. “It’s really impressive—you can talk, thinkandchew all at the same time. I’m sure that’s just what they’re looking for in the NHL.”
It took a moment for him to process, but then his grin quickly transformed into a scowl as a few girls at the other end of our table started to snigger.
His gaze flashed to my brother. “Can you get your sister in line?”
Max simply shrugged. “She’s got a point.”
Our friend shot me a glare as he gathered his things and stood up.
“Just because your dad played in the NHL, doesn’t mean he passed any of his talent onto you two.” He stormed away, and I swore I could still hear him chewing as he went.
I should have known the guy was a jerk the moment he sat down; the peroxide-blond tips were a dead giveaway. But while I was relieved to see him go, a small part of me—the insecure part I mostly tried to ignore—wondered if he might be right.
My dad had refused to let me play hockey competitively my whole life. He didn’t usually take much of an interest in my hobbies, but something about me and hockey turned him into a stubborn, irrational tyrant. It didn’t matter to him that I’d spent years practicing with my brother. That I’d been stopping pucks since the moment I first learned to skate, when Max realized he could prop me up in front of a net. No, as far as he was concerned, Chicken Wings was right. I didn’t belong here.
Still, Iwashere. From the moment I’d heard my dad was adding a girls’ team to his famous summer camp, I hadn’t stopped bugging him. And he’d finally caved. Now, I had one chance to show him I deserved to play. The only problem? He hadn’t once looked my way since the start of camp. The girls practiced with a separate coach, and Dad was too focused on his role coaching the boys. How could I impress him with my skills when he wasn’t even aware I had any?
“Remind me to never piss you off,” my brother said, smiling.
I sighed and rubbed a hand over my face. “I know, I should have just ignored him, but it’s been a long day and he really got on my nerves.”
“Hey, he deserved it. I’m surprised you didn’t knee him in the balls for that ‘something pretty to look at’ comment.”
“I’m surprisedyoudidn’t knee him in the balls for hitting on your little sister.”
“Why would I do that? You’ve got knees of your own, andI’ve seen you use them plenty of times before.” His expression turned thoughtful. “Seriously though, I don’t care what that dude says, you belong here just as much as anyone. You were brilliant out there today, Kenz. Didn’t let a single goal in.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t even see me play today. You were busy trying to impress Dad, just like everyone else.”
“Okay, fine,” he admitted. “Iheardyou didn’t let a single goal in. And I don’t need to impress Dad.”
