Page 227 of The Pucking Coach's Daughter

Above all, I’m just trying not to think about the holidays without my mom. We never did anything major, but the few traditions we did have involved cutting down a tree—usually sneaking in through the back of the farm and stealing one of the smaller, undeveloped trees.

The refs finally restart the game, and I drag my thoughts away from the past.

With the score still tied, the final horn blows. Because they’re in the same conference, it’ll go into a five-minute overtime. The teams get organized and prepare to restart, and my anxiety creeps higher. Carter and Oliver are both on the ice. Penn looks ready in his crease.

“I can’t watch.” I jump up and slip past them, darting up the row before the game can restart.

In the hallway, I lean against a wall and close my eyes.

“Sydney?”

Of course… I can’t have a moment of peace.

Scarlett is in front of me, just out of reach. Her brows are furrowed, a look of disdain painted on her features. I’m not sure how I ever… liked her. Got along with her.

My gaze moves past her, to her entourage. There are the familiar players. The girls she keeps close-but-not-too-close. I only don’t recognize one. If I had to guess, Scarlett picked those clothes for her, much like she did for me. Same style and everything. Short dress, the hem of which she tries to subtly pull down her pale thigh, hair and makeup done almost over the top.

Almost.

A pang of disappointment rings through me. Not that I’m so easily replaced—there was never a question about my individuality within her friend group—but that she actually went and did it. She found someone who seems a lot like me, who probably didn’t have a ton of friends, who will dress however she wants just to keep a friend.

“Leaving before the end of the game?” I ask.

“We’re going to get the party ready,” Scarlett says. “Are you hiding out here because you don’t want to see FSU lose?”

I lift one shoulder.

“There’s a rumor going around that you and Carter…” She looks me up and down. “There’s no merit to that, right?”

“You don’t think he’d date me?”

She coughs. Even that is delicate, behind her balled fist. Her tongue flicks out, wetting her cherry-red lips. “I don’t think he’d have looked twice at you if not for me. And you broke up on such ugly terms…”

Did we?

“Ah, well. We’ll see him tonight.” She smiles. Nasty, cruel smile. “But not you. Because you’re not welcome at any St. James parties.”

“Don’t worry, Lettie. I wouldn’t go even if you paid me.” I push off the wall and pass her.

I don’t bother telling her that there’s a great chance Carter will end up at my apartment tonight. And even if he didn’t, I know he won’t be with someone else. My newfound confidence straightens my spine and lets her nettling slip away.

I pause and eye my replacement. “Enjoy the ride, new girl. You’ll probably end up in my shoes soon enough.”

The roar of the crowd almost blocks my last word, and I smile to myself. I don’t know who won, but it sounds like someone finally scored.

And I am ready to go home.

seventy-one

oliver

“Decide.”

It comes from Penn, his arms folded over his chest. Carter’s hands are in his pockets, leaning against the wall beside him. It comes off as supposedly less intimidating—and sure, it’s not meant to be. But it fucking is.

I don’t like being ganged up on. As the oldest sibling, I spent much of my childhood being outnumbered by Felix and Daniela. Which is why I let out a rough sigh and run my hand down my face.

“Decide,” Carter says now. “It’s not fair to her. She said she’s not picking. She said she loves us. She loves you, too. Obviously.”