I sit absolutely frozen as I watch myself pivoting to lose the red-clad defenseman and break away to achieve a better angle for the shot. The puck finds its way into the net just above the goalie’s left shoulder, and a bunch of Bats swarm me for hugs and pats. There’s a huge grin plastered on my lips as Xander throws his arm around my neck, pulling me to his broad chest.
I remember that game. It was the day of the Halloween party.
“No, this is not important,” Coach Kovachev interrupts Walker’s breakdown of the play.Myplay. “It was a lucky shot. Hoff—the other Hoff—does not usually play like this. Right, Nicholas?” My eyes widen as Coach addresses me from across the room, a cold shiver running down my spine. I manage asuffocating sound of agreement as some of my teammates cheer about having “the better Hoff” on their team.
Walker just shrugs before skipping forward to the next clip.
I can feel Coach’s eyes linger on me as I lean forward to feign extra focus.
I think I’m going to pass out. There’s definitely not enough air in my lungs right now. Did he catch on to us? Does he know? Has he known this whole time?!
No.
Definitely not.
No one else caught on, and Nate didn’t even play in my place since I was officially excused with a doctor’s note.
The thought follows me all the way back to my room. Some of the guys went out to explore the city and take their minds off of tomorrow’s game while others favor exercise. I don’t feel like strolling through some mall, but when I see Zollweg heading down to the hotel’s gym, I quickly abandon that option too.
Heaving a sigh, I drop onto my bed and open Instagram. There’s a red ring around Nate’s icon, indicating that he put up a Story. My thumb is hovering over it while I’m struggling with my own curiosity, the need to hear his voice. Biting down hard on my lower lip I flick past it, pulling up Xander’s Story instead.
It’s probably an even worse choice, but at least I don’t have to look at his stupidly handsome face—the one that, as of recently, makes me question my future. Instead, the image of a basic gym pops up on my screen, the wordstaking it easy today,#SBU,#SBUBatsand#goBatsadded to the bottom. There’s no location tagged in it, but Nate shared their hotel’s address in our family chat. It’s two blocks from here.
I put abetter practice that backhand some moreinto the message box while my mind is already forming a plan. A very, very bad plan.
The right thing would be to go down to our own gym, put some headphones on, step onto the treadmill, and ignore my treacherous desires.
That’s what a smart, responsible hockey player with a good future would do.
But I’m not Alexander Hart.
***
The moment I set foot into the hotel lobby, I realize that I did not think this through. For one, I don’t know where the gym is around here. Or, if Xander is still in it. And worse, if he’s with my brother at the moment!
“This was the dumbest idea,” I grumble as I pull the plain black cap deeper into my face. Turning around on my heels, I’m about to hightail it out of here before I embarrass myself, only to collide with a firm chest.
“Whoa there, Hoff. Thought you wanted to check out the spa?”
Panic surges through me when I come face to face with Baker’s cheerful grin, my mind taking a moment to process his words.
The spa, huh?
I have to fight hard not to laugh. It’s so like Nate to treat himself to some sauna-hot tub-massage routine. The information leaves me with newfound confidence in my outlandish plan.
“I actually forgot to pack my trunks,” I grimace, gesturing down to my athletic shorts. “So I might hit the gym instead.”
“Again? You came out of there half an hour ago!” He lets out a surprised laugh, and I cringe inwardly at my misstep.
“Just some light walking on the treadmill, to...you know, take my mind off the game.”
Baker hums empathically as he gives my back a friendly slap. “I get it, but don’t overdo it, man. We need you well rested to keep your brother in check tomorrow.”
I can’t help a sly grin now, winking at him as we part ways. “Don’t you worry about that, buddy.”
There’s a sign in the elevator indicating the gym area is upstairs. I press the button for the top floor then take a moment to glance at myself in the full-body mirror. I put contacts in and even made the effort to gel my hair back, although it’s hidden under my cap. Flipping the shield around, I give my reflection a cocky grin, tilting my head to the side. My workout clothes don’t bear any B-Tech logos, but they’re a little more worn than Nate would prefer. Maybe our parents would notice but definitely not a stranger. Or Xander.
I feel bad tricking him like this again, but I also plan to make it up to him.
