Campus. My favorite coffee spot. The library where Katie, Willow and I study when we’re pretending to be responsible. He laughs at my dorm room - “You live like this?” - and I can see how instantly both my roommates are smitten with him.
But the place I really want him to see is the lake.
Willow and I take him there in the late afternoon, frost crunching under our boots, our breath fogging the air between us, skates in tow.
The lake isn’t perfectly smooth - there are faint white cracks threading through the ice and patches where the wind has brushed snow into soft drifts - but it’s good enough. Good enough that the three of us glide out across it carefully, the sound of our blades ringing faintly in the quiet.
Willow spins once immediately - she can’t help herself.
Her edges carve a perfect circle as she turns, arms lifting gracefully above her head before she settles back into a smooth glide beside me.
“Show off,” I mutter.
She grins. “For the benefit of the professional athlete.”
Markus snorts beside us.
Seeing him here feels weird in the best possible way. My brother belongs in giant professional arenas now, under bright television lights and roaring crowds, not bundled in a winter jacket on a frozen campus lake.
But he looks completely at home.
He skates backwards easily in front of us, hands tucked casually in his pockets.
“Alright,” he says suddenly. “Wait here.” He skates back tohis car and returns with three sticks. He throws a puck down in front of us.
“You’re kidding.”
Markus tosses one of the sticks toward me and I catch it.
“What kind of big brother would I be if I didn’t bring equipment?” he says.
Willow claps her hands in delight.
“Oh my god, we’re doing this.”
“Wait,” I say, already laughing. “Right now?”
Markus shrugs. “When else?”
He uses his backpack and a tin of coke to make a rough goal.
Professional league star - improvised equipment manager.
“Alright,” he announces, tapping the puck onto the ice. “The two of you versus me.”
“That seems unfair,” Willow says.
“Yeah,” I agree sweetly. “For you.”
Markus rolls his eyes.
The puck slides between us and suddenly we’re playing.
It’s chaos.
Willow glides like she belongs in the Olympics, every movement smooth and elegant, but the moment the puck comes near her she swings and completely misses it.
Every single time.
