Cameron puts the frozen pizza rolls in the oven while Lainey mixes the ranch dip. Once the tray is in, he braces his forearms against the island counter, lips twitching.
“Weren’t you wearing a different shirt?” His eyes flick to me and he chuckles. “Thatshirt?”
Easton rubs my back sedately before slipping his arm around my waist. He shrugs, an easygoing smirk tugging at his lips.
“Nah. That’s all hers now.” He leans in, his breath fanning across my neck. “I’m glad you came.”
My stomach dips at his proximity, remembering every detail of our kiss.
“Me too,” I whisper.
FOURTEEN
EASTON
A few days later,we have our last game before the short break in our schedule for Thanksgiving. I’m amped up for it because this season is shaping up to be our best yet.
We’ve always been good, but the team is playing better than ever with the chemistry the current roster has built.
Losing to Elmwood is a distant memory now that we’re further into the season and crushing our standings on the road to playoffs. We’ve pushed hard in practice and in games, earning rare words of praise from Coach Lombard.
During warm-ups, I hit every puck Madden sends my way, sinking them into the net before our second match up with Princeton.
It gets the crowd going. People wave felt flags that sayGo Knightswhile we run through drills.
A couple of girls call my name when I skate by. It used to be my fuel before a game. The effect it has on me isn’t the same.
Not anymore. Not by a longshot.
There’s only one girl I want to hear screaming my name right now.
I go through pregame stretches, then pass some loose pucks to Madden and Elijah while I warm up my legs by circling the rink.
On my next lap, I wave to my mom and younger brother on the other side of the glass. My bag is packed for Thanksgiving weekend. We head out after the game.
“Easton! Do the thing!” Asher shouts, miming a crossover by tapping his foot excitedly.
Grinning, I oblige. Dad showed me this technique when I was around his age. It helped me perfect handling the puck while moving like I’m one with the ice. Asher is obsessed with backwards crossovers and has started asking me to teach him when I bring him to my local rink at home.
“You ready?”
He nods eagerly. I flash him a crooked smile and scoop up a puck, skating in a tight circle before pushing backwards, one leg crossing over the other a few times like I’m running on the ice to pick up speed. Changing directions, I race back to the boards, firing off a pass to one of my teammates zipping around me.
“Woo!” Asher claps and throws his fists above his head while Mom ruffles his hair.
The ref blows his whistle to end warm-ups. I circle up at the bench with my team after the announcer’s opening.
“Graves,” Coach Lombard barks. “Get out there.”
Madden jolts before flinging himself over the boards to join me, Theo, Noah, and Brody on the first line in Hutchinson’s place while he recovers from a sprain. We’ve played this formation in practice, but this is the first chance he’s been given to join a game for the first puck drop.
“Like we practiced, boys.” Coach hands off the iPad to Kincaid and folds his arms across his chest. “Work up those appetites for tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir,” I say.
The guys echo me and we skate off ready to take on Princeton.
First period passes without either team putting up points. I’m not worried. In fact, I’m feeling awesome, switching on and off the ice for a few minutes at a time as we work through our lines.
