Page 10 of Securing the Pucking Rebound

“Yeah, I know. But this seemed like the perfect opportunity to celebrate it, seeing as your day always gets engulfed by the holidays. And anyway, you couldn’t visit and not go to a game. It would be practically illegal.”

“Illegal,” he mutters. “Shit, these seats are insane.”

“Helps having friends in high places.”

“I still can’t believe you get to hang out with the team whenever you want.”

That’s far from how my life is right now. But I can’t deny that considering a handful of the LA Vipers hockey players are friends by association is pretty damn cool.

I’m dragged from my thoughts when Garrett’s squeal of delight rips through the apartment.

“Holy shit. This has the signature of every player on the roster. Sienna, this is…I can’t. I—” He gives up trying to tell me how awesome I am and instead jumps from the couch and pulls me in for a hug.

His strong arms, along with his familiar scent, wrap around me, and I smile against his chest. I really have missed having him around recently.

“I love you, sis. This is fucking amazing.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“I can’t wear it tonight. Imagine if I threw a drink down it and ruined it.”

“You mean you didn’t pack a jersey just in case,” I tease.

“You said we couldn’t go to the game, so no, I didn’t.”

“Good thing I saw that coming, huh,” I say. “There’s more in the box.”

He pulls out a brand-new jersey with his favorite player’s name printed across the back.

“I can’t believe I’m not going to get to see him play,” he says sadly, staring at Killer’s name. “How’s he doing?”

“I mean, we’re hardly BFFs. But I think he’s doing okay. Well, as good as you can be when you’ve torn your ACL and can no longer skate.”

“He was lucky to be able to get surgery straight away. Fucking sucks for the team, though. His stats this year were looking incredible. From what my spreadsheet was showing⁠—”

“Are you still doing that?” I balk. I kinda assumed he’d stop when he moved away. From as early as I can remember, Garrett has been tracking player and team stats and analyzing the shit out of them. Honestly, he’s such a fucking nerd. Most days, it amazes me that we’re related.

“Of course,” he says as if the thought of not doing it is utterly absurd.

“Just promise me you won’t pull it out tonight. Just enjoy the game.”

“I can’t make those kinds of promises,” he teases. “We’re gonna need to get ready soon if we want to catch the warm-ups.”

“That we are,” I agree. “The bathroom and guest room are all yours. Be ready in an hour?”

“You got it.” I walk toward my bedroom but stop when he says my name.

“Thank you, Sienna.” When I turn around, he’s hugging the signed shirt to his chest.

“You’re welcome. I can’t believe you thought we were going to miss the game. Don’t you know me at all?”

4

CALVIN

Isit in the dressing room in street clothes while my teammates are in full gear, ready to take on the Blackhawks. Jealousy races through my veins. I want to be dressed and ready to head out on the ice and kick ass.

I zone out as Coach gives them all a pep talk. It’s not like I need to listen anyway. The only thing I can do tonight is watch. My presence will have zero impact on the result, and it fucking hurts.