Page 81

“I can’t steal my own dumpling.”

“They’re Hayes’s.”

I stare at them.

“Good to know where I rank.”

Dad grins. “You’re the one living in the penthouse.”

“Temporarily.”

Mom gives me a look.

I ignore it.

I silently agree with him. Tonight will be better.

Seeing Bishop play in Ignite Arena for the first time, sitting next to my parents, will be a lot easier knowing my brother is on that ice with him.

Just like it was supposed to be. The way they had planned since they were teenagers. But some families don’t talk about Bruno… and we don’t talk about Declan and Chicago.

Ignite Arena is nothing like watching Bishop and Declan play on television. It’s louder. Brighter. Colder. And so much bigger than it looks on a screen.

The air smells familiar, faintly like popcorn, beer, and ice, and every time one of the arena doors opens, another blast of cold rolls over my skin under the layers I’m wearing.

Green and white light sweeps across the lower bowl as we make our way toward the seats Bishop arranged for us. Music pounds through the arena, vibrating through the soles of my Converse, and everywhere I look there are Phoenixes jerseys.

MORROW.

MERCER.

BISHOP.

Especially Bishop.

Number twenty-two is everywhere.

One jersey. T-shirts. A little boy walks ahead of us, holding his dad’s hand. A woman leaning over the glass with BISHOP stretched across her shoulders.

It’s weird. Obviously, I know Bishop is famous—the same as Declan. I’ve known for years.

But there’s a difference between knowing your brother and his best friend play professional hockey and walking into an arena where thousands of strangers are wearing their names.

Maybe that’s why I’ve never come.

The thought arrives so quietly that I almost miss it. I push it away before I can examine it too closely.

Mom catches me looking. “Something wrong?”

“No.” I tug self-consciously at the hem of my own jersey.

It’s old. The green has faded over the years, and COLLINS is across my shoulders above a number belonging to a retired Phoenixes defenseman Dad loved when we were kids.

Dad found it buried in a closet and brought it for me after I complained I had nothing neutral to wear.

I’m not wearing Archers navy into Ignite Arena.

And I am definitely not wearing Bishop’s jersey.