Page 60 of The Overtime Persuasive

She’s on her feet, clapping, her smile so wide I can see it from the ice. When our eyes meet, she points at me.

I lift my stick toward her and her smile softens into something that belongs only to the two of us.

Beside her, Lucy turns her head. She looks at Eva. Then she looks at me. And even from this distance, I see the exact moment my twin realizes there could be something happening that no one has told her about.

There’s no time to dwell on it because Campbell hooks an arm around my neck and drags me toward the tunnel before I can decide whether to wave, run, or fake a lower-body injury and collapse on the ice.

The game is over, but adrenaline is still tearing through my veins, searching for somewhere to go.

And the only person I want to see? Is standing beside my sister.

CHAPTER 14

EVA

Ihave seen Liam Snyder in a lot of different settings. For instance, I’ve seen him leaning on the counter at Side B, busy chatting while I work. I’ve seen him at home, making s’mores and worrying about whether a squirrel could drive him to the brink of his own sanity or not. I’ve seen him in the rain, looking at me as though he knows exactly what it is that I’m trying not to say.

And, until tonight, I had never seen him play hockey.

Turns out there is another version of Liam, and it’s one I’ve not been introduced to before. It’s one who slams grown men into walls, throws himself in front of speeding pucks, and somehow knows exactly where everyone on the ice will be at least three seconds before they get there.

I may have developed a new obsession.

“You’ve gone quiet,” Lucy says.

“I’m still wrapping my head around what I just witnessed.” I look at her dad, my eyes wide. “That was intense.”

We’re standing inside the family room on the event level of the arena, waiting for the players to finish showering, changing, and doing whatever else happens in a hockey locker room after a win. The televisions mounted around the room are replaying highlights from the game, while family members move between clusters of couches and high-top tables.

Every time the winning goal appears on one of the screens, the room cheers again:

Liam drops to block the shot. The puck hits him, falls to the ice, and within seconds, he’s sending it the length of the rink to Tripp. Tripp carries it forward, draws the defense toward him, and leaves it for Sawyer, who scores.

The whole play happens in less time than it takes me to decide whether I want soy or almond milk.

“How does he know Tripp will be there?” I ask any Snyder in earshot, pointing to the TV.

Lucy follows my gaze toward the screen. “Because Liam sees everything.”

“That is uncanny and also, wow, disturbingly competent.”

“Okay, there has never been a world where you reacted like this when you came to one of my games.” She turns toward me slowly, her mouth hanging open. “Did you think my brother was bad at hockey?”

“No. Of course not.” I fold my arms. “He’s a Snyder, of course he’s going to be good. I just didn’t know he was like that.”

“Like what?”

I wave one hand toward the television, where Liam is now driving a Toronto player into the boards.

“See? That.”

Her mouth twitches. “You’re going to need to be more specific.”

“He’s so…” I watch the hit again. It was clean. I know that because the officials didn’t call a penalty and every Dominion fan around me celebrated as though Liam had personally delivered them a million-dollar check. “Intense.”

“He’s playing hockey, Eva.”

I swat her arm. “Yes, thank you. I gathered that when everyone put on skates.”