Page 81 of Rookie Attraction

“Nothing you need to know about.”

Karson’s raspy chuckle tells me he’s right: whatever he said, I don’t want to know. While he’s the quietest of our sibling group—relatively speaking—he’s also the one you can never predict. He plays hockey the same way, and that’s why he’s so damn good.

“Tell me.”

“Forget it, bro,” Karson quips. “Now, to the important talk. After you check in, meet me at Dominico’s Wine Bar. I’ve booked a private room for dinner. Bring along your captain and whoever else wants to join.”

“Including Makela?” I add and get a glare from my teammate.

“Anyone but that egotistical prick,” Karson replies dryly, then pauses. “Nah, go ahead, invite him. Chances are, he won’t have the nerve to show his face.”

“I’ll spread the word.”

“Cool.”

Will Finn join us? I need to talk to him, but not with others around.

“Everything okay, Sel?”

There’s an undercurrent of concern in Karson’s voice. My brother can always tell when something’s off with me or with Atticus. He’s got that weird sixth sense.

“Long day,” I lie. “Tired. Hangry.”

Karson, ever the peacemaker in our family, doesn’t push.

“We’ll talk, just you and me, before dinner,” he confirms. “Text me when you’re on the way.”

The call leaves me comforted on the one hand but unsettled on the other. I can’t hide anything from Kar and maybe I don’t want to. Shaking off my unease, I inform Berg and Makela about the dinner plans. Berg says yes right away, but Makela grunts and shakes his head.

I group text the rest of the team and about half the guys respond with a “yes,” including Finn.

Good. Great. I can do this. It’s only a meal with teammates, just like any other day.

Sure. Right. Definitely.

Two hours later (thanks to a delay from a blocked lane), our car finally pulls up to the Landing, a hotel located in the King West neighborhood of the city. The area’s got a laid-back vibe, full of funky shops, cafés, and popular restaurants. And when I can’t stay with my brother, the Landing is my fave place in the city, with only seventy suites so it’s very private. Each suite has tons of natural light and comfy living rooms. It’s kind of like a home away from home. Several staff members recognize me and checking in takes no time at all.

Soon I’m showered, dressed, and ready to meet Karson. It’s a fifteen-minute walk to the wine bar, and the exercise helps to burn off some of my nerves. The air is crisp, the sidewalks crammed with people. When I turn the corner, I find my brother waiting outside the restaurant, in his usual outfit of black jeans, biker boots, and a leather jacket, a plaid scarf wrapped around his neck. Kar’s my height, but leaner, with ash-brown hair that’s shaggier than mine, and curling at the ends. When he spots me, he offers a warm, familiar grin.

“Celery!” he calls out, and I offer an eye roll in greeting.

Karson and Atticus couldn’t pronounce my first name when they were toddlers—so they say—and to this day, the ridiculous nickname sticks.

“You ready to get your butt whooped by my team?” Karson teases.

“Can’t we have dinner first?” I counter.

We reach for each other, hugging tight. My tension eases, if only for a moment.

“Miss you, bro,” I whisper.

“Miss you too. Come on, we have a lot to catch up on.”

Karson leads the way into the restaurant, and not surprisingly, he knows all the staff by name, charming and flirting with everyone until we’re finally seated in a private room that could easily accommodate fifty. After we order drinks—vodka tonics—we talk about family and of course, hockey.

Ten minutes into our catch-up and my brother leans forward, tapping my knee.

“How about telling me what’s really going on with you?” Karson interrupts.