Page 21 of Ice Queen

My eyes lift to meet her mom's, and the camera goes off again. Damn it, I feel like a circus monkey. Nothing feels genuine when I know I’m being watched. “I don’t think so, but we have ice cream if that’s okay with your mom.”

“Please, mommy!” She cries, latching onto her hand once again. Her mom smiles down at her, a look I’ve seen from my own mother more times than I can count.

She looks at me and nods. “Sure, that’d be great.”

“Would you like anything?” I ask.

“No, I’m okay. Thank you, though.”

I raise my hand for a high five, and I’m met with a tiny conspiratorial smack. We head to the concession stand and I ask the manager if she can make me a souvenir ice cream. Luckily for me, she’s more than happy to entertain the little girl and all the topping requests she has.

“Have fun!” I carefully hand the ridiculously stacked ice cream to her mom.

I make it three steps before someone asks for a picture, and before I know it, there’s a line. My cheeks are starting to hurt at this point. My eyes drift to where my teammates were last I saw them, but they’re nowhere to be found.

Kaitlyn is, though. She’s happily chatting away with someone, picks up a book, slides a bookmark inside, then hands it to the lady in front of the table. Her smile is bright, but then she laughs. It’s the same melodic laugh I heard from outside the bookstore the other day.

Then what Lettie said earlier registers. She owns the bookstore. How’d she end up here? Does she have family here? Is she here by herself? Is that asshole of an ex still trying to find her? The thought makes my blood boil. I wish more than anything I had gotten a look at his face, or even a name. What I would have done with it, I don’t know. But it’d be better than all the wondering I’ve done over the years. The numerous times I’ve thought, “Is she okay, or did I fail someone else, too?”

“You ready to get out of that monkey suit?” Reed chides as he steps in front of me, clad in his actual game day suit.

I scoff. “And hop right into another one?”

I take one last glance around the room, and everything seems to be running smoothly. In fact, it seems to me like this event was a success. No one ended up in the hospital, that’s something for an ice rink.

“Smile!” Carly, our game day photographer, says, popping out of nowhere to take our picture.

“Ay Dios!” My hand dramatically grabs at my chest. “Whatever will I do if this picture of my brother and me makes it onto social media?”

Wrapping my arms around Reed’s shoulders, I hike my leg up, letting it hang in the air in front of him. Then, because he really is like my brother, I plant a kiss on his cheek, which makes him cringe.

“Get off me, you moron.” He shoves me away, swiping at his cheek.

“Oh, come on.” Skipping after him down the hallway, I grab his hand in mine, swinging it between us. “Tú sabes que yo te quiero.⁠*”

“I don’t know what that means,” he grumbles, snatching his hand away. “Lock in, dude. We have a game to play.”

That we do, my friend. That we do.

I’m on fire tonight, maybe the stupid velveteen suit is my new good luck charm. My chest heaves as I hop the boards, sliding down the bench as the next line gets on the ice.

“Looking good, Samuels,” Coach Stevens says, leaning over with his play board to give us something he’s been wanting to try in a game for a while now.

He scribbles a play we’ve seen a hundred times in practice, but he’s switched Wilder and I position wise. I look to my left, checking in with him to see if he’s okay with it. He gives me a nod. “If we’re going to try it, now's as good a time as any. We’re up by four.”

My mouthguard hangs out of my mouth, lazily bobbing up and down as I chew on it. My eyes trace the board one more time, memorizing the routes he wants us to take. The skidding sound that comes with someone stopping to come in has us up and moving. Our skates hit the ice at almost the same time.

The whistle blows, and the previous play stops. Wilder sets up at the face-off circle as I set up on his right, Hannah’s pressed up against the glass, confused about why her husband is there instead of me. Her long red hair has been braided over her shoulder since I saw her last. Scarlett and Cam stand next to her, Cam’s fingers wrapped around Scarlett’s, as I assume, she narrates what’s happening.

The puck drops, and Wilder immediately swats the puck in my direction. With me running a route he normally would, the defenseman is thrown for a loop, mainly because I’m bigger than the person he’s been defending all night.

Taking advantage of that confusion, we meet in front of the goal before reverting to our normal positions. He steals the puck, skates back around the net, fakes a pass to me, then drops it over the goalie's shoulder. It’s a simple play, one that feasts on the confusion of the opponent.

And it apparently works. Skating into the corner that Hannah and Scarlett are in, we jump into a huddle, smacking each other's helmets as we celebrate the goal. Coach Stevens stands behind the bench with a slight uptick on his lips that’s rarely seen during a game. But it’s the scowl on Sterling’s face that catches me off guard. Shouldn’t he be happy that worked? Whatever, he’s probably just pouting because his pathetic attempt to embarrass me failed. And now, we’re killing it.

The buzzer rings, signaling the end of the second period. Morale is high as we head to the locker room. Monroe starts up his usual Sing-along with Lucas, this time to the tune of “All I do is win.”

“Second period done, we ain't even tired.” He hops up on the bench, using his hand as a microphone, his blonde hair bobbing back and forth around his shoulders. “Sweat on the ice, yeah, the boys gettin’ fired. Shots on the net, pressure never quits. Titan’s chasin’ shadows while we run this shit.”