Page 127 of Top Shelf

The arena quiets instantly. Anticipation crackles through the air.

I lift the microphone with slightly shaky hands.

“When we started organizing this weekend,” I begin, my voice echoing through the arena speakers, “we wanted to create something unforgettable for the kids who came out to support the Kings Youth Foundation.”

Thousands of eyes lock onto me.

“And since hockey has always been about community…” I glance back toward the tunnel, unable to stop smiling now. “I thought maybe we could expand that community a little.”

I nod toward the sound booth.

The lights cut completely.

For one suspended second, the arena falls into darkness.

Then music explodes through the speakers.

The giant screen flashes with the unmistakable logo of the Atlantic City Serpents.

The crowd loses its collective mind.

Children scream. Adults gasp. Phones shoot into the air, recording instantly as the tunnel doors slide open and the first Serpents player skates onto the ice beneath a burst of flashing lights.

Followed by another.

And another.

My brother grins at me as he passes, before turning that blinding white-toothed smile to the crowd, raising his stick as he steps onto the ice.

The cheering grows deafening with every player introduction. Even the Kings players look impressed as several NHL stars skate onto the ice, laughing and waving toward the crowd.

The atmosphere inside the arena turns electric almost instantly as the Kings and Serpents gather at center ice, surrounded by excited children practically vibrating in the stands. It’s chaos in the best possible way.

And standing there watching all of it unfold, I feel something settle deep in my chest.

Pride.

Pure, overwhelming pride.

BecauseIdid this.

Me.

The realization steals the breath from my lungs for a moment.

Beside the bench, Dean Carver stands stiffly with his arms folded across his chest, his expression thunderous enough to rival an approaching storm cloud. He’s still waiting for something to go wrong. Waiting for the event to implode so he can swoop in and remind everyone that I never belonged here in the first place.

Too bad for him.

The puck drops moments later, and the exhibition game immediately dissolves into playful chaos. The fun kind. The kind where nobody really cares about the score because every big hit is exaggerated for the crowd and every goal gets celebrated like it’s game seven of the Stanley Cup Finals.

The Serpents might be NHL players, but the Kings aren’t exactly making life easy for them.

Lucian steals the puck from one of the Serpents’ forwards before skating past him with a cocky grin, only for my brother to immediately body check him into the boards hard enough to make the crowd gasp.

Lucian pops back up laughing. “That all you’ve got, old man?”

“You’re literally one year younger than me,” Carson shoots back.