Everyone at the table cringes at the termhalftime. “Intermission, not halftime,” I correct.
“That’s what I meant.” A flush washes over her cheeks. “It wasveryentertaining.”
I take a sip of my beer. “What game did they play?”
“Chuck-a-Puck. Two siblings played, and I don’t knowwhathappened down there, but one of the boys started throwing his pucks at his brother instead of the target,” she informs me. “Do you guys not watch?”
“Berrett was doing his captain duties during intermission,” Jake teases. “Whipping us all into shape.”
Maya tilts her head. “Oh, really?”
I shrug. “I usually work with the coaches on strategy. Who to put on the ice, which plays to set up, and any adjustments we need to make. That sort of thing.”
“Impressive, Captain Berrett,” she comments with a smile.
“You know…” I lean in close, my forearm resting on the table. “I can work my magic and get you picked to be on the ice for one of the intermission games. You may even win a Bobcats stuffed animal or something equally amazing.”
Maya frantically shakes her head. “Nope. No, thank you.”
“You don’t want thousands of people cheering you on?”
Her eyes widen in horror. “Absolutely not. Some of us have this thing called stage fright.”
“She’s not kidding.” Elliott breaks into a smart-ass smile. “Remember how you threw up during auditions for your school play, Yaya?”
Her blush darkens to a deep red. “I don’t enjoy being the center of attention.”
“Youlovebeing the center of my attention,” I tease with a wink. “It’s honestly shocking you haven’t admitted that you’re in love with me yet.”
“The day I admit to being in love with you is the day I willingly subject myself to one of those publicly humiliating intermission games.” Blinking rapidly, she untucks her hair from behind her ears so it curtains her cheeks. “And I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to ever get near a skating rink again, anyway.”
Elliott tilts his head, frowning at his sister. “Why not?”
When Maya tenses at the question, it hits me. She didn’t tell her brother what happened. Of course she didn’t. She’d rather suffer in silence than worry him.
Completely oblivious to the tension, Jake rests his forearms on the table and angles forward. “She got a concussion while learning how to skate.”
Elliott, who’s been spinning his glass in circles on the table, goes lethally still. “You had a concussion?”
With a dismissive wave, Maya takes a slow sip of her drink. “It wasn’t a big deal.”
“Wasn’t a big deal,” he repeats incredulously. “You’re kidding me, right? Why didn’t you call me?”
With a sigh, she leans closer to me, a move that I’m pretty certain is unconscious. “I’m fine now, Elliott.”
“Yeah,nowbeing the operative word. Clearly, you weren’t fine when it happened.”
I angle closer to Maya and place my hand on her nape in silent support. I may not agree with her decision to not tell her brother, but what’s done is done. And based on the flush creeping up Elliott’s neck, he’s not letting this go anytime soon.
“I took her to the doctor immediately after it happened,” I tell him. “He reassured me it was a mild concussion, and she had no worrisome symptoms after the first few hours.”
It’s ironic that I’m the one acting cool, calm, and collected about the concussion when I was anything but when it happened.
“See, babe? She’s fine now,” Logan placates Elliott in a soft tone. In any other situation, I’d revel in his reaction. Because, for once in his life, Logan is soothing instead of starting shit.
“She was concussed.” Elliott huffs. “And didn’t deem it important enough to tell me.”
“Because it wasn’t.” Maya straightens, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s not like you could make it go away, Elliott. And if I’d told you, it would have distracted you from studying.”
