It was him. A jolt of recognition went through me. God, he really was good at everything he did. He was a natural on the ice. Coach Williams was splitting the guys into small groups to doan exercise that involved maneuvering around cones, while the rest of the group attempted to smash into them. Hockey was so brutal. I hadn’t gotten the appeal before, but I did now. How freeing would it feel to just start a fight if you wanted to? To just smash and crash and shout and let all your anger out? I’d been a cheerleader for years, and I’d seen more than my fair share of violence on the football field, but it wasn’t the same. If you started a fight on the football field, you were in trouble. In hockey, you had a few minutes in the penalty box and then back on the ice.
Brody had the puck. It was his turn to try to guide it around the small cones and avoid the guys trying to crash into him and steal it.
I watched as he looked up, waiting for the other guys to get into position. His unfocused gaze moved over the stands and past me, before zooming right back when he recognized who I was.
His eyes met mine. That jolt of awareness zipped through me again. It felt weird. It was like sticking my finger into an electric socket.
Then the whistle blew, and he dropped his head, focusing on the ice, then bursting into motion.
He took off at an incredible pace, guiding the puck like it was the easiest thing in the world. His stick was just an extension of him. It seemed like he didn’t have to make any effort at all to control the puck. It went exactly where he wanted it to go. The first guy arrived to tackle him, and Brody somehow seemed to slow for a second, pushing the puck out in front of him, farther than before. With his body slowed, and the puck moving faster than before, a gap opened and his attacker sailed through it, not recovering quickly enough to do a damn thing. As soon as he’dpassed, Brody raced back to the puck, twisting his stick just right to get it around a nearby cone at the very last second. Even with his little evasive move, he hadn’t missed a single cone.
I found myself sitting forward to see how he’d manage the other two guys in his group, speeding up the ice toward him, one on each side.
He sailed toward them, seeming unconcerned, until they were close enough for contact. He tapped the puck, and it stopped behind him, while he barreled on. One of the guys went to crash into him, and he just turned in a tight little spin that sent the other player flying off in the other direction. The last one, seeing the strategy, went for the puck. But Brody’s stick was already in motion, flung out as far as he could reach and hooking around the puck just before the opponent closed in on it, then shooting it up the ice ahead of him.
Now, the last attacker was behind him, and they both skated after the puck. The goal sat at the top of the ice. They both gained on the puck, but Brody was so much faster, spinning at the last second again and whisking it into the air.
I found myself rising as he somehow bounced the puck on his stick, spun around, and shot midair at the goal.
It sank in easily.
“Nice!” Beckett called from the sidelines. “Not bad at all, Sinclair. Maybe there’s a place for you on the team after all.” His naturally loud voice carried across the entire rink. “What do you think, Cade?”
Cayden had just finished his own drill. He skated in a lazy circle, watching Brody.
“Maybe. Let’s see next week,” he said.
“Who are you watching?” Winter asked beside me.
“What? Me? No one in particular,” I lied, sitting back and trying not to look so intense.
She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, are you trying to figure out which one is Nick?”
No. I was staring at my new stepbrother.
Since that wasn’t something I’d be admitting ever, I just nodded.
“Yep. I can’t tell which one he is.”
Winter smiled. “I’ve got you. He’s over there. Left winger, near Asher.”
I nodded and followed her finger, pointing across the ice.
“Oh, okay. No, I don’t know him.”
I couldn’t see much of him with his gear on, but one thing I could tell right away. He didn’t have Brody’s smooth confidence on the ice. Few did, apart from the Ice Gods, and Cal. Cal was easy to pick out. He moved like his brother. He passed close to the glass and tapped his glove on the partition when he skated by.
“Is that your new…”
“Stepbrother. Yes, one of them. The good one.”
“That’s Cal, right? Asher said he keeps to himself. The wordbroodywas used.”
“As in… wants to have babies?” I teased.
She laughed. “As in moody and mysterious.”
“Yep, that’s a pretty accurate description, actually. But he’s not awful. He doesn’t interfere with my life, at all, so that’s already a step up on his brother.”
