Page 29 of Breakaway Hearts

“It should have gone to Alvarez. Donovan. Lewis…literally anyone else.”

“Colt?” she asks.

“You know what I mean.”

“I’m shocked my baby brother thinks so little of himself.”

“Because I’m so amazing?” I tease, though this is one instance where I might actually want her to stroke my ego a bit. I know I’m good on the ice, which makes me cockier than I should be, but I feel like I spent my entire life, as she so kindly puts it, as the baby brother, and now I’m suddenly the captain in charge of my teammates and making sure we don’t break our streak of at least making it to the Frozen Four – not to mention winning every home opener – and the big brother who needs to make sure nothing happens to Tab. Which I know I’ve always been, but there’s a year between us. I was never an authority figure teaching her right from wrong, I was the bad influence who convinced her to go along with my shenanigans. Until now.

“You usually think you are.”

“I can’t tell if that’s a compliment, but I’ll take it as such.”

“You’ll be an amazing captain, Owen, because you put your whole heart into everything you do. That kind of dedication matters more than the final score.”

I know in a big picture way, she’s right, but I won’t go down as a great captain if we don’t make it to the Frozen Four, no matter how supportive and dedicated I may be.

Whatever I was about to say in response completely leaves my head when Madison shows up with Jason. She looks cautious, while he excitedly points out all the cool things we have going for us.

“Who’s she?” Ray asks with a smile, and a look like I might have missed whatever she said before that while watching Madison.

“I was looking at him,” I lie, then add, “I’m trying to get him to join the team,” before she gets the wrong idea. She would be so excited to double the dating pool she already wants to set me up with.

“The goalie.” I’m not surprised Katie told her. “I was under the impression he categorically refused your repeated attempts to recruit him.”

“Guess I’ll have to convince him otherwise.”

The pressure is on, and a huge part of me is stressed knowing I have the next few hours to convince Jason Hargraves he wants to join the Wynchester Wolves, but I also can’t stop smiling.

She came.

Chapter Twelve

Madison

It’ll never be Owen

Iwish I’d read Jason’s invitation. Or that I’d bothered to ask Owen for details, rather than avoiding him. Because the event isn’t thrown by the hockey team. It’s hosted by and benefitting the Sierra Glass Women’s Shelter, which wasn’t advertised because a lot of the women there are escaping abusive partners, and don’t want to be found. But every single guy on this year’s roster is here at the giant open field and parking lot that has been transformed into a carnival. So is the coach, and a bunch of guys I assume are players who’ve graduated. A lot of people are here but the hockey players seem to be part of it, not just attending, which I hate. Because it either makes it harder for me to convince myself they’re assholes, or this gives them a clear opportunity to prey on women who’ve already been beaten down, at their most vulnerable.

Owen knows everyone. The organizers, the women staying at the center, their children, the volunteers making food…I find myself watching his interactions more than I should. Which Jason hasn’t noticed yet, because he got a roll of tickets and has been crushing every single game, then handing his prizes off to a different kid each time. He also keeps offering to buy them funnel cakes and ice cream, because the thermometer fundraising goal is getting to him.

“Here, you should play too,” Jason encourages, handing me his roll before going off to buy more.

“You’re ridiculous!” I call after him, but he just smiles back.

To be honest, I haven’t felt nervous or afraid once. Crowds never bothered me; some of my best memories are of my dad taking me to hockey games, where everyone is pressed against each other, cheering and shouting, hugging each other when our team scores, sometimes when they lose. We couldn’t afford NHL tickets, but we went to high school games long before Jason was on the team. And thankfully, the hockey players aren’t huddled together today; they each have a station. Currently, Owen is working Dunk a Hunk, where he’s above one of those tanks filled with water, waiting to be dropped in.

It looks like someone already managed, because his white t-shirt is soaked, pretty much see-through, sticking to him in all the right places. It leaves nothing to the imagination, and my blood runs hot, which I want to say is because this is inappropriate with children present, and not because his abs look like they were chiseled from marble.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Owen calls as I walk past the line of students waiting their turn.

I shouldn’t stop. It’s presumptuous of me to even think I’m the one he’s talking to, but when I turn, he’s staring right at me.

“Wasn’t really given a choice.”

“There’s always a choice,” Owen argues. “I’m really glad you made the right one.”

“It’s a carnival for a good cause; this doesn’t mean he’s saying yes.”