So with a nod, I try to ignore the nervousness in my belly. There is something about unknown J-name guy that makes my heart skip a beat like a little high schooler. He also makes me nervous. I’ve been hurt by guys like him, but maybe I can have fun. There’s going to be food and drinks, and I like both of those. And if, for some reason, unknown J-name guy wants to talk to me and hang, cool, but he won’t get in my pants.

Meeting Delanie’s gaze, I smile. “Okay. Let’s go.”

“And you’re gonna try to have fun?”

I nod. “Yes.”

“And you won’t bring up hockey?” she asks me, her eyes challenging mine.

Smiling, I decide I can do that. I can not be hockey player Baylor for one night. No problem. So with a nod, I say, “Hockey? What’s that?”

That seems to please her, and as we head out and down the beach toward their condo, I let go of the cautious, overzealous, Baylor. And embrace wild, fun Baylor.

Sorta.

Pushing my shoulder into Jude’s chest, I carry the puck around him before shooting hard toward the goal. But instead of hitting the pipe like I wanted to, I hit it in. That would have been ideal if there were a goalie, but since it’s one-on-one, Sinclair-style street hockey, our goal is to hit the pipe.

“You suck,” Jace calls at me, and I scoff.

“I suck? I can shoot circles around you, you cocky little shit.”

“Both of y’all suck,” Jude decides, getting the puck and skating out to the line we drew with pink spray paint. Hey, it was the only thing we could find in the condo we rented. Since we can play hockey with a sock wrapped in tape, the pink spray paint doesn’t bother us a bit. “Now, watch how it’s done.”

Squaring off, I watch as Jude does some fancy-schmancy stick work, and I’m ready to block him while Jace yawns beside me.

“Just because you’re in the NHL doesn’t mean you’re good,” he calls out at him. Jude laughs and cuts left, trying to go around me, but out of nowhere comes Jace, taking the puck back to the pink line, a smug little grin on his face. “Man, if I can steal off you in some street hockey, how are you gonna survive in the NHL? I think they should have left you for the fifth pick,” Jace taunts, and I can’t help but laugh. They are both such smack-talkers—not that I’m any better. I’m an asshole too, but at least I choose the right time to do it. These two are always going at it.

“Jace, let’s remember who made it into the draft and who didn’t,” Jude says, taking a low blow at him, and even I cringe.

I know that it still stings Jace that he didn’t get to go into the draft. Even with being one of the highest-scoring high school players in the league, they wanted to mold him a little more before throwing him in the draft. Our agent blames it on the fact that he never played for the junior team like Jude and I did. Mom didn’t want to let him since he was playing travel and high school hockey so much. Our dad tried to talk her out of it, but she wouldn’t budge. We always tease him and say it’s because he’s the baby, but there is truth behind the teasing.

Unlike Jace, we didn’t get babied. We were off playing hockey all over the damn place. He actually got to hang out with Mom and be spoiled. Sometimes, I wished I could have traded places with him. He’s very oblivious to everything. Me, I could have seen the signs that my dad was a cheating bastard and maybe prepared my mom a bit. Or called out the situation. Instead, everything blew up in our faces, and because of that, I really don’t think any of us will ever be the same.

But I still try to have hope we will.

Jude will marry Claire, I’ll make the draft this year with Jace, probably, and hopefully Lucy will find a man. But even that scares me because then my mom will be alone. She’s always had one of us with her or had my dad, but if Lucy leaves, she’ll have no one. It’s all so nerve-racking, and I know I shouldn’t worry as much as I do—I have to life my own life—but it’s hard not to. My mom is a really great mom, and I wouldn’t be who I am without her. I want to give her the world, but first, I’ve got to get into the NHL.

This year is my year. I know it is, and the great thing is that I’ll have Jace with me. I always thought it would be Jude and me going back-to-back in the draft, but going with Jace won’t be so bad. I know it will make my mom proud too. She cried so hard when Jude made it. I think we all did. We were just so proud, and I want my family to experience that with me and Jace. It’s going to happen. I can feel it.

In the meantime though, I’m gonna kick my brothers’ asses in some Sinclair street hockey.

Training my eyes on the puck, I grin as Jace slides the puck between his legs, bringing it back around before trying to deke around Jude. He’s cocky as always, and I know his next move. So when he then goes to spin the puck around to shoot left of Jude, I’m there, taking the puck back to the line, ignoring the cussing he’s giving me.

“Motherfucking cheater!”

“How?” I laugh, shaking my head as I carry the puck in, watching Jude out of the corner of my eye. He’s a sneaky little shit. Being the biggest out of all of us, I call them both little, but that’s not the case. Jude’s almost my size and older, but to me, he’s a little shit and Jace is a nugget shit.

Glancing at Jace, I grin. “You’re such a crybaby. What are you going to do, go call Mom next?”

“Fuck you,” he sneers.

I laugh. “Fine, I’m calling Mom and telling her you said the F word.”

“I’m so gonna fuck you up,” he says, trying to keep his eyes on the puck but also on me, giving me his angry eyes while I just laugh.

“Do you hear the mouth on this kid?” I call to Jude, who is smirking.

“He gets it from you,” Jude calls back at me, but I scoff.

“The fuck he does,” I say, turning with the puck to give myself some room to find a shot.

“Hey, guys!”

The sound of a girl’s voice has all three of us stopping to look to the right where the voice came from. It’s the girl from the beach, Delanie.

“Hey!” Jace says, going over to greet her, which leaves me wide open.

Shooting the puck, I throw my arms up when I hear the clink of the puck against the pipe, and I grin so big when Jace yells, “Hey!”

Shrugging my shoulders, I say, “What? You didn’t call time out, asshole.”