Page 40 of Pucking Good Girl

I wait until she walks inside the house before leaving. Just as I’m about to turn on my heels, the curtains on one of the windows that I know is in the entrance hallway move.

A smile stretches my lips and I lift my hand to wave but I realize it isn’t Talia saying goodnight from behind the curtains.

The person looking at me from inside the house is a lot taller. The curtains close before I can take a better look.

Macklin

I snap the lid of the plastic container shut and put it back into the locker I claimed as mine in the guest locker room.

Everything in the room is in cardinal red, white, and green with black accents. Those are Stanford’s official colors, and I miss the cool blue and silver of our own locker room. I find our colors much more soothing.

“How can you eat right before a game?” My brother makes a gagging noise.

Stifling an eye roll, I turn to look at him. “Did you choose the locker next to mine to be a pain in my ass? Not that this is any of your business, but I eat a Granny Smith apple with organic peanut butter before every game. If I don’t, we lose.”

Becks shakes his head. At six foot four, he’s two inches taller than me now, and with his skates already on, he towers over me.

“Forget I said anything then,” he pulls a small square of plastic out of his locker and slips it into his glove.

I arch an eyebrow in a silent question. “You have your own good luck ritual. I’ve seen you put something in your glove every game.”

Becks pulls the small square of plastic out of his glove. “Mom gave me this when I left for the hockey program in Canada. It’s a small image of St. Michael. He’s an archangel who protects against evil.”

“I didn’t know Mom was religious.” I frown.

“She isn’t. But back then she was really anxious about me living so far away from home. She remembered the Mother Superior at her boarding school would always pray to St. Michael for protection. So she told me to always keep him on me on the ice. But the paper was getting damaged after a couple of years, so I got it laminated.”

A familiar pang of jealousy settles in the pit of my stomach, but I ignore it. It’s unfair to be jealous. Becks has always been closer to Mom, Dad and I have always been tighter. It isn’t a reflection of any kind of preference in our parents’ love for us. It’s just about finding common ground. Mom and Becks are a little quieter and introverted than myself and Dad.

I clasp my brother’s shoulder. “That’s good. Keep that on you. Let’s give them hell out there tonight.”

We look at each other for one long moment before Becks nods. “You got it.”

“You’ve been playing at a very high standard,” I say honestly. “You might be one of our newest additions, but you’ve already become one of this team’s biggest assets.”

“Thanks, Captain.”

The praise is well deserved.

Becks has been playing so well that he got on Seattle’s radar.

He impressed their scouts so much that they didn’t offer me the contract that I thought I had in the bag. Their roster has space for just one winger. So they decided to keep watching us and then choose between us.

It’s a tough spot to be in. Because on the one hand, I want this for Becks. I’m proud of him, both as his brother and as his team captain.

But on the other hand, I’ve always wanted to wear the same jersey Dad wore for most of his NHL career. That’s why I chose number nineteen, his number. Not being able to win a Stanley Cup is the biggest regret of his career, and I want to change that. I want to win one wearing a number nineteen jersey with Shayba on the back.

It’ll be a victory for both of us. I owe my dad everything. I wouldn’t be half the player I am without his constant support and encouragement.

Unless Seattle chooses Becks. And he’ll get to lift the Cup wearing Dad’s same colors.

I ignore the voice in my head. I love my brother, and I want him to succeed. But if he wants to play for Seattle, he’s going to have to earn it fair and square.

He’ll have to outperform me if he wants to be chosen. I’m not going to make it easy for him. I respect him too much as a player and as a person not to give one hundred percent to get what we both want.

Coach is about to come in to give us his usual pre-game pep talk, and I turn to grab my skates and close my locker.

A buzzing sound reminds me that I put my phone on silent rather than turning it off.