“What do you mean? Why wouldn’t I want him to have this win?”
He rolls his eyes dramatically and leans in like he’s giving me sage advice. “I’ve known Ty for as long as I can remember. He wants to win, but even if he doesn’t, he already got what he truly wanted this week. Believe me, he already feels like a winner.”
I don’t know what to say. Again, Ham and I aren’t usually the kind of siblings who are this supportive. We usually trade insults. Maybe with all the changes I’m making, it’s time for me to change our relationship too. “Wow, that’s a nice thing to say.”
“It’s the truth.”
I swallow that statement and it settles deep and feels good. I value the truth so much, and I vow to always tell it. No more lies.
Time to turn my focus back on the game. The third period starts with a huge disappointment—the Stripes score again. My heart drops to the floor. I want this win for Ty.
But then something amazing happens. The Stars answer back, and somehow we score two more times after that and tie it up.
It’s so exciting, I stay on my feet. I don’t know why I never watched hockey before. This kind of action is incredible. Right as time is expiring, something even more incredible happens—our goalie launches himself across the ice like a human miracle and stops what everyone around me swears would’ve been an empty-net goal.
The buzzer sounds and we’re tied heading to overtime!
I don’t leave my seat while the guys regroup. I don’t even think I blink. I wait as they reset the clock and play resumes. Someoneon our team goes to the penalty box almost immediately. Ham mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like a prayer. Apparently, whatever is happening is bad.
But then—
It’s an explosion, and my eyes can’t keep up. A shot is blocked. There’s a pass I almost miss because I’m gripping Ham’s arm so tight he yells at me. One of our guys tucks the puck in the net so cleanly it takes half a second for my brain to catch up.
The fans are in a frenzy.
I’m at a loss.
Until I check the scoreboard: 7–6. “Is it over?” I squeeze Ham’s arm again. “Did we win?”
“Yeah, the Stars won.” A wide smile stretches across Ham’s face.
I scream and wave my arms, trying to get Ty’s attention as the Stars players pour off the bench and onto the ice. My eyes lock on Ty as he removes his helmet and skates straight toward the pileup; victory written all over his face.
Unable to handle the excitement, I press my hands to my face. The applause doesn’t stop. When Ty finally comes out of the pile at center ice, he lifts his glove toward me—and then his eyes find mine.
I sink into the softness of his gaze, and everything else disappears.
I’m no longer hiding anything.
The smile he gives me makes everything worth it.
thirty-five
Tyson
Thearenaemptiesslowerthan usual. It seems like every fan is staying to cheer. This is exactly what I dreamed of my whole life. Most of the guys beam from the never-ending applause. Even with all the celebrating going on, I can feel the question hanging in the air like static. No one said anything about my online drama today. It’s almost like they’re waiting for permission, which is odd. Especially Houli, who lives for a good chirp at my expense.
When we make it to the hall, Lottie’s standing there, right next to Ham. I’m not going to lie, seeing Ham with her makes me a bit emotional. I hadn’t expected him to risk his job, or his privacy, for me, and I’m touched.
“It’s going to be a while yet,” I murmur, trying to keep my voice low. “After we get dressed, we’re going out to dinner to celebrate. I’d love it if you could come...”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Lottie’s expression calms me as she approaches and holds out a marker to me. “But first, I need you to sign my jersey.”
A chuckle slips out as I can’t believe she’s doing this in front of people. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to the way my heart flutters from the way she looks at me, but I’m here for it. I take the marker from her and bring it to her sleeve. “Hold still.”
It’s like every person in the hall takes a collective breath, rising onto their toes to see what I write. I’ve thought about Lottie so much over the years. It’s odd I never imagined this moment. Still, I don’t have to think twice about what to write. Leaning in and in my best penmanship—because I want everyone to be able to read it—I write:
To My Queen, Your Ollways, Ty.
