Page 200 of Cross Check

“Unbelievable, dude. Great defense, great goal. Holy hell. Hey, Sully! Get your ass in here!” I bark, and our grumpy goalie squats next to us.

“Thanks for having my back, Everett.” Liam ruffles my hair. “You’re a damn good teammate.”

We take our time leaving the ice, spending a few minutes with the fans and some of the training staff. When we finally head to the locker room, I walk down the tunnel next to Hudson, wiping the tears from my eyes.

“Huddy Boy. You were amazing out there,” I say. “Even in your old age.”

“Thanks, kid,” he teases, pulling me in a hug.

“God. I love the high a win brings. We need to go out and celebrate. How about⁠—”

I snap my mouth closed. I frown, my eyes narrowing as I stare at the couple lingering outside the locker room.

The laugh is familiar.

So is her blonde hair.

I blink, confused why my sister is wearing Coach’s old Boston College jersey, but then Coach sweeps her off her feet. He spins her while her arms loop around his neck, and they grin at each other like they’re the only people in the world.

What the fuck?

Hannah rests her forehead against his. She whispers in his ear while Coach holds the back of her thighs, and understanding dawns.

Bile works its way up my throat. I drop my stick and gloves like I’m getting ready for a fight.

“What the hell are you two doing?” I ask, my voice cracking around the question.

They both turn to look at me. Hannah lets go of Coach. He sets her down, a hand still on the small of her back.

“Someone better tell me what the fuck is going on.” I try to clear my vision, but all I see is red. “Right fucking now.”

“Brody.” Hannah touches his arm. “It’s okay.”

Brody.

Casual.

Fucking friendly.

It’s obviously not the first time she’s said it, and I want to hurl.

“You’re sleeping together,” I whisper. “I fucking knew it. I thought I saw something going on with the two of you at team dinner last month, but I blamed it on being tired.”

“We’re doing more than sleeping together,” Coach says, and it’s the equivalent of being slapped in the face.

That means this—whatever the fuck it is—has been going on for a while.

That means they’ve been hiding things from me.

That means my sister has been lying to me.

“I fucking respected you. I looked up to you. You’ve been my idol for years, but the whole time, you were exactly like everyone else,” I grit out. “You’re a goddamn fuckboy. You have a kid, and you’re out here spending time with a twenty-five-year-old? Grow the fuck up and go out with someone your own age.”

“A fuckboy? I love her,” Coach answers. “And you’re not going to drag my daughter into a discussion where she doesn’t belong.”

“Why not?” I move closer and press an arm into his chest. He’s taller than me, but I don’t give a shit. My trust is broken. I’m fueled by rage and wanting to protect my sister. “Hannah is young enough to make you a father of two.”

“Enough,” Hannah practically yells. I freeze and take a step back. “How dare you talk about me like that when I’m right here?” She looks at me, and her bottom lip trembles. “You want to call out my age and say I’m your younger sister all while you sit here and act like a child. How could you think this has anything to do with you, Grant?”