Page 6 of Only Ever You

Michael takes a deep breath and smiles. “It was great. Coach made us race across the ice, and I beat everyone.”

My heart lifts in my chest. “That’s amazing.”

“And I got second.” Asher waggles his eyebrows.

“Wow. So practice really was good, huh?” I survey the two of them. Their chests are puffed out, their shoulders pulled back with pride. Behind them, movement catches my eye. Their coach is back, waving his team over to the boards. “You should go,” I say. “Looks like your practice is over.”

Asher nods and skates away.

Michael, on the other hand, lingers, tilting his head to the side. “What about your practice?”

A short laugh escapes my mouth. “It was good. Go. We can talk in the car.”

“Okay.” Grinning, he skates backward toward the bench.

Shaking my head, I move toward the other side of the rink, a smile on my lips and a strange fuzzy feeling forming in my stomach. I don’t know what it is, but I kind of like it, and I’m pretty sure it’s because of Michael.

When I exit the locker room, Michael is waiting, expression pinched, foot tapping, and his whole posture rigid.

“Ready to go?” I ask.

He nods, jaw clenched, but he doesn’t speak.

Side by side, we head down the hallway and find Mom waiting for us by the door. She smiles at me, and then her deep blue eyes land on Michael. “Did you get everything?”

“Yes,” he replies, the word short and sharp.

“You sure?” Her lips tremble like she’s suppressing a smile. “I don’t want to get halfway home and find out you forgot your shoulder pads. Again.”

A groan slips out of his mouth. “That’s not fair. It happened only once.”

“Yeah, but we were ten minutes from your house,” she points out.

“Aunt Bella, I swear,” he practically whines, “I didn’t forget anything this time.”

“Good.” With a wink at him, she heads to our car.

Michael and I quietly follow her. With how annoyed he seems, something must have happened after practice. Rather than trying to get it out of him, I stay silent. I’ve known this boy since we were little, and he always needs time to cool off.

The hockey bag slung over his shoulder looks way too big for him, yet he walks like he owns the place: shoulders back, head high, eyes ahead. He’s no more than an inch taller than me, but he won’t stop reminding me about it. Lately, he’s been going on about how he’s not only one month older than me, but also taller. His teasing doesn’t bother me, though. Plus, I like that we’re not the same height.

Mom opens the back hatch of her SUV and helps Michael tuck his bag inside. When I sling my own bag off my shoulder, Michael takes it from me and hefts it in.

My cheeks feel hotter than they did a moment ago, and my voice is rough when I mumble, “Thanks.”

He sneaks a glance at me and nods.

Once we’re buckled up and on the road with the radio playing, I half-turn and peer at Michael. He sighs and mirrors me.

“What happened?” I ask.

“Nothing.”

“Can I take a guess?”

He rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t say no.

“You got into another argument with Cade—true or not true?”