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“You can’t be serious, Harrison. We made that pact when we were thirteen!” My free hand flies up in the air in aggravation, even though no one is here to see it.

I can picture the tic in his jaw that’s probably happening right now. I bet his nostrils are also flared.

“I’ve kept our pact.”

I snort a laugh through my nose. “My sisters are older than you and would never even be interested, and you know it.” I take a bite of my sandwich to appease my stomach.

His heavy exhale sounds fuzzy through the phone. “Alright, forget about the pact. I’m more worried about the revolving door of women you’ve dated. Melanie isn’t someone you can just have a fling with.”

My shoulders slump, knowing he has a point. I definitely haven’t made myself appear to be a serious relationship kind of guy. “I understand you wanting to protect her, and why you’re worried. But I’d never hurt Melanie. I haven’t even dated anyone since Kat, and I ended things with her before I even moved here.”

“You’re like a brother to me, West.” He pauses for a second like he’s contemplating his words. “But if you ever hurt Melanie, I will never forgive you.”

I nod my head. “If I ever hurt Mel, I’d never forgive myself. But she’s it for me, man. She always has been.”

“So, are you going to like… date my sister?” His voice sounds annoyed, but at least he’s not angry. I think.

“I’d really like to, if she’ll let me. As far as I’m concerned, I’ve wasted the last five years not being with her.” I rub the back of my neck. “But I have some work to do to win her over.”

“Good, she should make you work for it.”

I laugh but Harrison doesn’t join me.

“Break her heart and I’ll break your nose. I don’t give a puck how famous your pretty face is.” His voice sounds slightly more light-hearted now, but I know he’s completely serious.

“You know I hate your hockey puns. But it’s a deal.”

* * *

It’s Monday morning and I want to do something nice for Melanie. I’m sure she’s at work being her responsible little self, but I bet Madden Windell’s office wouldn’t be too hard to find. I have some time before I need to leave for practice, so I do a quick Google search. Unfortunately, his address isn’t listed anywhere, except for a post office box. It seems dramatic to send a letter to a congressman; there has to be another way to find his office so I can surprise her with something.

When I walk into the rink for practice an hour later, I notice Coach Young is in Tom’s office. A thought pops into my head... Tom might have Madden Windell’s contact information. I stop in my tracks and knock on the door frame.

Tom stands to his full height, which is almost as tall as I am. “Hey, West! Come on in,” he says in his jovial voice.

His dark hair is cut short in a businessy style, which makes him stand out from the guys on the team. We tend to be a little more unkempt. Looking between him and Coach Young, I observe that they’re both wearing their blue Eagles polos with black dress pants.

Coach Young must notice my amused expression and rolls his eyes. “Yes, we know we’re matching again. And no, we didn’t plan it.”

Tom laughs; there’s always a twinkle in his blue eyes like he’s withholding a joke. “I’m going to start packing extra clothes, Coach. Then we won’t have this issue.”

One side of Coach’s mouth pulls up slightly. “That’s probably a good plan. We all know I’m better looking, and it’s way more noticeable when we wear the same thing.”

Tom scoffs and they start flexing their arms and laughing. It’s nice to see Coach Young like this, having fun and joking around. He’s always so serious with the guys on the team, but I suppose we give him more respect that way.

“Sorry, West. What did you need?” Tom asks, pulling his shirt sleeves back down after his impromptu gun show.

I clear my throat. “Actually, I was wondering if you happen to know the address of Madden Windell’s office?”

Coach Young and Tom eye me curiously. Tom speaks again, “I don’t, but I have his cell number. What do you need it for?”

I rub the back of my head with one hand. “Well, I wanted to send something to his assistant, Melanie.”

Coach and Tom give each other a quick glance. Both of them are smirking.

“Ahh… of course it’s about a girl. I’ll let you handle this, Tom. I need to get to the locker room and keep the guys in line anyway.” He slaps Tom on the shoulder and nods his head in my direction before leaving.

We listen for a moment until his steps are no longer echoing in the hallway. Tom crosses his arms over his chest and sits on the edge of his desk. “So the assistant, huh?”