Page 23 of Sticks and Stones (Shadow Valley U)
I put my earbuds in and warm up off the ice, ignoring my teammates. They’re ignoring me, too, sensing my bad mood from a mile away. “Sweet Emotion”by Aerosmith takes me into the zone, and I crank up the volume on my outdated iPod until I can’t hear anything else.
Hands yank the back of my shirt and spin me around. I barely have time to brace myself before Evan slams me into the wall. He’s furious, judging by the way his chest is heaving. He’s not an enforcer on the team. He plays clean. If someone needs checking into the boards or given an attitude adjustment, it sure isn’t him.
But now he looks ready to murder me.
I rip out an earbud and stare at him. “What the fuck?”
“You haveno right,” he seethes. “That’s crossing a fucking line, asshole.”
I tsk and shove him away from me. It takes a second to click that he’s talking about the photo. Of course he is.
“You’re not even her brother,” I snap. “And you gave hermy room. She’s pulling some crazy shit, and you don’t even see it because you’re so obsessed with having a sister. Some childhood wet-dream shit.”
“You’ve got it so twisted!” Evan yells. “Take it down.Now.”
I roll my eyes. “When Wren grows a pair and asks me herself, then I will. Until then…” I turn away from him and grab my skates. I finish getting ready, the Aerosmith switching to an angry Nirvana song. I block out the rest of the shit going on and get on the ice.
Coach doesn’t like us listening to music while we skate, but he says nothing about warm-ups. Working with this coach has made all the idiocy of living in the hockey house worth it. I’m learning more, playing better. He’s got a good team here, and I have nothing but respect for him.
It’s why I begged my father to let me come to Shadow Valley.
It’s why Wren has to be the one to leave.
She can work at any restaurant in any town. She’ll probably be a waitress for the rest of her life, honestly. Once you’re at the bottom of the barrel, it’s damn hard to claw your way out.
I put my music away and inspect the practice schedule taped to the glass. Conditioning, then individualized drills. Conditioning usually means torture in Coach’s language, but I can’t deny that I’m going to enjoy the burn.
Coach comes out. We line up for sprints, and I avoid Evan. The whistle blows. I push everything out of my mind, focusing on being quick. The fastest that I can be. My muscles are screaming by the time he blows his whistle twice and calls for a break.
“Five minutes, then we’re switching to drills.” He steps off the ice.
The rest of us go for our water bottles on the bench. I uncap mine and yank off my helmet, dousing my head with half of it and guzzling most of the remainder. The cold water feels like heaven on my heated skin, and I pull off my glove to run my fingers through my hair.
Evan is still avoiding me, which is fine. I don’t really want to get fucking yelled at again.
“Stone!”
The female voice cuts straight through me. It’s worse than nails on a chalkboard. I turn toward the sound, my eyebrows already rising. It’s impossible to mistake it.
And sure enough, Wren is marching out onto the ice like she fucking owns it.
“Stone,” she calls again.
Why does she have to be so goddamn pretty? Her dark hair is braided, there’s not a speck of makeup on her face, and her hazel eyes are lasered in on me. She’s got on an oversized t-shirt and black shorts.
Definitely not fall-weather attire.
And the more I stare at her, I realize it’smygoddamn shirt.
What the fuck?
It’s unsettling. Which means she did it on purpose because she loves to fucking mess with me in unusual ways. Like the vibrator. Like wearing my clothes.
She makes it all the way to me on the far side, waving off Evan when he tries to steer her away. Her jaw is set.
She’s damn lucky Coach went back to his office, or else we’d all be screwed. She’s drawing her fair share of eyes, but so am I.
“You trying out for the hockey team, Sticks?” I put my hands on top ofmystick. “You can play with the one shoved up your ass.”