"Am not."
"Why are your cheeks wet then?"
"Because"—I lied, quickly wiping my face—"this building must have a leaky roof."
He tilted his head. "My brother says it's okay to cry. Even if you're a hockey player."
I nodded. "He sounds smart."
"I guess."
"Are you going to skate?"
"Yeah," he said with a shrug. "I just wanted to make sure you're good first."
I blinked. "That was thoughtful."
He flashed me a toothy grin.
"How old are you exactly?"
"Ten. How old are you?"
"Seventeen," I said, and he chuckled.
"Wow, you're old," he said.
I laughed at that. "And I thought you were nice."
"My other brother says nice guys finish last. Hudson says crying is for losers and you should always look out for number one. But I don't know."
"Hudson sounds like a jerk. I think I prefer the first brother," I mumbled. Something about the name rang bells in my head, but my brain was too full of my mother's big news to sort it out. "So, who's your favorite?"
"Everyone likes Tolliver better—except maybe girls."
My heart stuttered at the name.
"But my favorite's my sister, Elle," he said with a grin. "That's her down there."
As one of the players on the ice rammed another player into the boards, the sound of a whistle cut through everything.
"There's no contact, Elle," Tolliver said, skating out to center ice. My pulse picked up at the sound of his voice, the mere sight of him, and I gave myself a mental shake. "You know that. We're working on speed and agility today."
The girl threw off her helmet. "But Tollie, he shoved me first."
I grinned at the nickname.
"Did he?" Her brother narrowed his eyes. "Or did you decide to throw him into the wall again just because?"
The girl shrugged. "Well, he could've shoved me."
"Elle."
"He checked me five seconds ago! You just missed it."
The boy who took the hit removed his helmet as well. "She's right, sir. I did," he said.
Elle rolled her eyes. "I don't need or want you sticking up for me, Kowalski."
