Baxter clears his throat, covering a laugh with a cough, before he finally answers Lawson’s forgotten question. “Apparently the one she lives in. Had an incident that involved ice, noodles, and a bunch of other shit.”
Oscar and Lawson both send us confused looks and I beam. “Don’t ask. It was a whole thing we promised not to discuss.”
They look more intrigued than put off, but they let it drop, turning back to the funny girl putting on a helmet that Morgan snaps tightly onto her head just after throwing her hat toward her uncle. As soon as he’s done, they both grip one another’s helmets before headbutting each other, Mads teetering on her skates for a moment before she catches herself again. When she looks over at us, she holds her stick up and says, “Hey, look! I’m part of the team! Puck me, bitches.”
Silence answers her for a long moment before everyone nearby starts laughing, and her head drops back with an audible groan. “That sounded better in my head.”
“You’re fucking weird,” Morgan snickers.
“You’re weird, you six-toed goose,” she volleys, making him fake a gasp.
“You promised that would stay between us,” he dramatically accuses, right before he pushes her and she flails before dropping like a sack of shit to the ice, all while she cackles like it’s just another day for her.
Hell, I could believe it is, too, just based on this morning.
Chapter Nine
Maddie
One of the other guys on the team helps me up as I continue laughing, all while my cousin smirks at me like he’s done something impressive. The only impressive thing about that oaf is the size of his forehead.
“Why are you staring at my forehead?” he wonders, his smile dropping as he narrows those matching blue eyes on me.
I smirk while I continue to stare, because giving him a complex just before practice is always fun. When suspicion builds in his expression, and I can tell my staring is getting to him, my grin forms.
“Knock it off,” he demands, an obvious warning in his tone as he points his hockey stick in my direction.
Obviously, I don’t. Sure, I’m an only child, since Mom and Dad were happy enough to deal with raising a hellion like me, their words, not mine, but I’ve never been lacking in the pseudo-sibling department. Morgan, along with his sister, Billie, and brother, Denton, have always been more like siblings than cousins. We argue and aggravate one another as such, but it’s all done with love, which is why I keep staring at a particular spot on his forehead, going so far as to squint at it.
“What? What the hell are you looking at?” Morgs blurts, wiping his forehead with the back of his arm, looking down at his white and blue jersey as soon as his arm lowers.
It’s then that I strike, swiping out with my own hockey stick and sweeping his feet from under him again. The moment my cousin collides with the hard floor of ice beneath him, a chorus of laughter breaks out all around me.
Pointing my stick at him, grinning widely, I inform, “Make better choices, my dude. That was payback. I’m gonna have a wet spot on my ass until I get home now.”
“Fuck my life,” Morgan groans, huffing under his breath as he drops his head back with a shake that makes me snicker.
The rest of my cousin’s team comes over for more high-fives and pats on the back, enjoying the ridiculousness between me and my family. I mean, there’s never a dull moment, that’s for sure. We might be grown, but there’s always time to act a fool with one another. Aging doesn’t remove the silly.
Leaving my cousin on the floor, I skate over to my uncle, grinning when I spy him covering his mouth with his hand. I point at it, snickering, “I just know you found that as funny as I did.”
“I’ll deny it if anyone asks,” Mack volleys, wiping away the grin I know is hidden behind his palm, leaving a respectable smile in its place.
I flash him a grin before leaning on the board that surrounds the rink, removing my helmet as I turn to look over at Morgan, who’s currently being dragged around the rink by his blades once more, the guys chanting what a dumbass he is while they take him on an adventure across the ice. I love it when the team follows in my footsteps.
My eyes stray to the two guys speaking to Lawson and Oscar, Morgan’s besties and extensions of him, because where there’s a Morgan Brady, there’s a Lawson Beckett and Oscar Nash, and the butterflies in my belly somersault, especially when Caiden laughs and Baxter grins at whatever shit Oscar is spewing.
Shaking my head, I turn back to my uncle, only to find him watching me closely enough that I instantly go on the defensive. “What? What’s that look for?”
“I’ll tell you what mine is if you explain what yours is,” he quips, eyeing me with a scheming smile I don’t like one bit. The last time he wore that smile, Morgan and I were forced to do a photo shoot that advertised deodorant. I don’t even know why I was dragged into it, since I’m far better behind the camera than in front of it. My photo was plastered over countless magazines when the campaign ran, and I’ve always been wary of that damned smile ever since.
“What look? I didn’t have a look. Unless you’ve forgotten what amusement looks like. Because that’s what it is, especially since your son is currently taking on a lot of ice under his jersey,” I slowly answer, eyeing my uncle carefully. “What’s your look for?”
Mack snorts, but he does answer me. “Just looking at the expression on your face when you look at those two newbies. Don’t know which one takes your fancy, but let’s hope their dicks aren’t the size of a thumbtack.”
The bastard.
Shock has me snapping my head around to gape at my uncle, only it has a ripple effect that sends me teetering on the ice like a newborn deer. With how my body moves, there’s no righting myself, and so, with arms flailing and body tilting, I lose my footing entirely and land heavily on the ice, hissing when the unforgiving floor catches my ass with a hearty thud.
