Page 51 of The Fake Out

I nodded.

“Hmm.”

“What, asshole?” I seethed.

“Kinda Astrid’s polar opposite, no? From the sunshine girl to the edgy goth girl.”

I glared at him.

Ayden had made the same snarky remark about Veronica, and it pissed me off. Before I could shove Eli to the ice, the press photographers started snapping photos of us together. The league loved to run stories about hockey families. I got it, but sometimes I wished my achievements didn’t always come with the asterisk of being Halvard Holmstrom’s son or Eli Holmstrom’s little brother.

Maybe I wouldn’t have felt this pressure if any of my other brothers were in the league. My brother Brendan would have been an amazing goalie, but he knew being openly gay in a league full of toxic masculinity wouldn’t have been a good experience. Brendan told me not to come out as bisexual, but he was why I did it. Because fuck that shit. Brendan was a brick wall, and he would have won the Vezina multiple years in a row; I hated that he held back having a career because of the issues in the league. But maybe one day, none of that would matter. That’s why I came out. So queer kids could see themselves in me and know there was a place for them in hockey.

“I get to meet her later, right?” Eli asked and nodded at Veronica while we posed for more photos.

I jabbed him with my stick. “Be nice to her.”

“I’m nice! Are you and Dad still not on speaking terms?” he asked, jabbing me back.

If grunts and hmmm were speaking, then sure, we were speaking again. I already talked with Eli about this and told him to stay out of it. But he didn’t know when to mind his business. Eli picked up the pieces of our family when Dad was lost, but sometimes it was like having a second micromanaging dad, who you wanted to punch in the face.

“Stay on your side of the ice!” I told him with a grin. Then I skated off to shoot pucks into the Bulldogs net. It was going to be fun beating him and rubbing it in his face.

Chapter Sixteen

VERONICA

“You and Blaise are so cute,” Rox sighed dreamily next to me during the TV time-out.

“Why are you sighing like you don’t get fucked as much as you want?” Dinah asked her.

I almost spilled my beer at that. The petite girl gave me an innocent smile. Dinah was so blunt, but I loved her for it.

Rox smirked. “But D, they’re so cute together. That whole heart-tapping thing they do! So cute!”

I felt a blush creep up my neck. That was all for show, but the smile Blaise had when he saw me tonight made it worth it.

“Do you think they can win tonight?” I asked.

There were ten minutes left in the last period, and it was 2-1 Philly, but the two women had informed me that anything could happen within ten minutes of play on the ice. I was learning so much about hockey just sitting and watching the game with them.

“Blaise has been good on the PK tonight,” Rox said.

“And Metzy’s been on fire,” Dinah agreed.

“What do you mean by PK?” I asked.

Rox groaned. “Oh my God, girl, I need to teach you hockey.”

“You’re Canadian. Isn’t it like the law to know this sport? I don’t even like sportsball,” I argued.

“Girl!” Dinah yelled at me.

“She means the penalty kill,” Rox explained. “When the other team has the power play—the man advantage because our guys took a penalty—our guys want to kill off the penalty and keep them from scoring.”

All this sportsball talk was so foreign to me. All I knew was that the Bulldogs could win tonight if they hung on. Blaise sat on the bench, but he looked focused and ready to go if his coach told him to get back on the ice.

I sipped my beer and watched the captain of the Bulldogs take the puck up into Montreal’s zone. Everyone around us was yelling ‘shoot,’ but Dinah explained he was trying to set up a play. He faked a shot and then passed it to another player. His teammate went for the shot, but the goaltender covered it.