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"Nah, I think I would remember meeting you."
"We talked for like fifteen minutes."
After giving it some thought, Elliott says, "Don't think so," before turning his attention back to me.
"Elliott, that was kind of rude," I scold him.
Elliott dismisses my complaint with a wave. "You know, I'm so darn happy I decided to come today. You never know what the day will hold, and you just made my day. No, no! You made my week! My sister and a boy. No, a grown man. Look at this guy."
I give him a playful slug on the arm, feeling my cheeks burn with embarrassment. "You're ruining my day! If there weren't children here who wanted to see you, I'd have Lane kick you out."
He pretends to act wounded, dramatically grabbing at his chest. "You wound me, sister."
Elliott begins to skate backward, throwing his head back and laughing. It's odd to see him acting so out of character without his usual partner in crime, Marcus. Once he's far enough away from us, Lincoln turns toward me. "How did I not know that?"
I shrug. "You didn't ask."
Lincoln explodes with excitement, his most expressive moment I've seen so far. Should I be offended that it's over my brother and not me?
But I can't help but smile. "It's not a big deal."
"It's not a little deal," Lincoln responds with a wistful look. "I love your brother."
"Me too," I tease him.
Seemingly oblivious to my jokes, Lincoln continues to praise my brother. "Not only is your brother in the NHL, but he is one of the best players."
"That is true," I nod in agreement.
Lincoln scans my body as if sizing me up. "He's so much bigger than you."
I shrug. "Yeah, I don't know how that happened."
He keeps moaning and groaning. "Ah, Sutton."
Lincoln needs to get over it. He's acting like he's not just as talented at hockey as my brother and won't make it to the NHL soon enough. "What? Leia's brother is Marcus Nash."
Lincoln's bright green eyes practically pop out of his head. "I didn't even think about that! I knew he was the coach's son, but it never crossed my mind."
I hold my hand up and pinch my fingers together without actually touching them. "I think you just might be a little dense."
In response to my comment, Lincoln jabs his fingers into my ribs. I gasp and scramble away from him. It feels like the wall that was separating us has crumbled. Maybe we can be genuine friends now.
Skating after me, he hooks me around the waist again. It no longer feels like I'm forcing him to be my friend. Lincoln wants to be my friend just as much as I want to be his.
"Damn, you keep too many secrets," he says with a disbelieving smile, suggesting he's not joking.
"They're not secrets. I just don't share unless I'm prompted to." As I speak those words, I realize how that could be a problem when I say it out loud.
I'm used to keeping everything inside until Leia forces it out of me. It's not my healthiest habit, but it's not my unhealthiest either.
Lincoln grunts, "Yeah, well, we're going to work on that."
I feel like he's trying to give me a heart attack.
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
SUTTON
