Page 14 of Securing the Pucking Rebound

“So we’re going?” I tease. There wasn’t a single moment when I thought that Garrett wouldn’t want to go up to the friends and family suite with the others. He might have already guessed our next move—following the guys to the Fractured Compass to celebrate their win—but I haven’t confirmed it. I’m having too much fun blowing his mind.

“Do you think Killer will be up there?” he asks excitedly.

If I thought front-row seats would ensure I get the best birthday and Christmas presents from my little brother for life, then I really maxed out when I spotted Killer loitering in the tunnel and pointed him out to Garrett. My little brother is in love with all hockey players. He isn’t one to discriminate, but he has a soft spot for Calvin Keller, and he always has. And seeing him earlier, even if he wasn’t on the ice, made his night. Well, along with the incredible game we just watched.

“Probably,” I muse.

He squeals like a preteen girl before wrapping me in another hug, almost squeezing the life out of me.

“You guys coming?” Bea calls, forcing Garrett to release me.

“I am there,” he announces, spinning around and racing after her.

“Don’t worry,” I call after him. “I know where I’m going.”

He spins around with a wince and an apology in his eyes, although at no point does he slow down to wait for me.

“This is hands down the best night of my life,” he confesses after he’s taken a sip of his Malibu and Coke and scanned the room for the tenth time, looking for players. I can’t help but roll my eyes at him. Does he really think they have the ability to slip into the room unnoticed? Not only is everyone here buzzing to see their loved ones after that performance, but hockey players live for the praise and to be the center of attention at all times. They will make sure to announce their presence.

“What about last night?” I tease.

“Pfft, already forgotten.”

“You’ve still got the hickeys,” I say, nodding at the angry red marks on his neck.

“Meeting a hockey player trumps sex with a stranger.”

“Said like a true whore,” I mock.

“Oh, shut it, you. Maybe if you got some every now and then, you wouldn’t be so uptight and judgy.”

“Judgy? Me? Dude, you know that’s not what I’m doing. You go out there and sow all your oats if it makes you happy. Just make sure you’re safe. I refuse to have to write ‘beloved brother, but was constantly led astray by his dick’ on your headstone.”

“You would not.”

I shrug, fighting like hell not to laugh. “The best bit about it is that you’d never know,” I say before barking out the laugh I’m holding in.

“It’s a good thing you’re awesome.”

“Right?” I say, wiping away the tears that have formed.

Garrett takes another sip of his drink. “I’m always safe.”

“I know you are, bro. I’m just yanking your chain.”

“You think a hockey player would?”

“Would what?” I ask, confused.

“Yank my chain.” He wiggles his brows as he says it, and I groan.

“As far as I know, you and them play on different teams.”

He shakes his head. “Nah, I refuse to believe that. There has to be at least one player on every team in the league who is secretly gay.”

“Okay, let’s hear it then. Give me your predictions.” I lean in closer, desperate to hear what his gaydar is telling him.

“I always hoped it would be Killer. I think the two of us would be very happy together.”