End Game (Bellevue Bullies 4)

“Hey, nerd.”

Her face lights up. “Dude, you were spectacular out there.”

I smile as she smacks my arm. “Thanks, Am.”

“I texted Mom and Shea pictures from the game. They both said great job.”

I wrap my arm around her as we head for the door. “Thanks. I thought you were coming with a friend.”

She rolls her eyes. “She blew me off. One of our professors gave us a paper due Monday. She’s a freak and won’t do anything until the paper’s done.”

“Perfectionist?”

“Oh my gawd, you have no clue,” she says, leaning into me. “But she’s super cool and crazy-ass talented. I can’t wait for you to see her tomorrow. She makes me look like shit, I swear it! I love her to pieces.”

“That’s good.” And it is.

Amelia’s boyfriend moved away. Though, I don’t think she really cares anymore, but so did her best friend. With Shelli being gone more than usual, I worry Amelia could get lonely. We’re close, but there is no way in hell I’m doing duck-lip selfies with her.

I open the door for her, and she walks out. “I’m more excited to see you kill it.”

She beams up at me. “I’m only doing vault and floor. I’m sort of bummed.”

“Don’t be. You’ll get up there. We all know beam isn’t your jam.”

“I know, but I love bars.”

“So, work harder.”

“Yeah.” She sighs, yet she’s grinning. “I love it, though.”

“That’s great, Am, really,” I say, squeezing her shoulder. “You like your classes so far?”

“Yeah, they’re good. Yours?”

“Yeah. I have an easy year so I can focus on hockey.” Though, maybe it’s not easy enough since I suck at passing.

Fucking hell.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Yes, there is,” she says, setting me with a look.

I shake my head. “I messed up on a pass, and I can’t let it go.”

“Well, that’s dumb,” she declares. “Why are you doing that?”

“’Cause maybe I’m a perfectionist?”

She scoffs. “No, we hate to fail. But what did Dad always say?”

My chest tightens up as I glance down to her. She looks so much like him. Her eyes are just like his. While she has the classic Adler blue eyes, they’re not as narrow as Mom’s and mine. Amelia’s are wide and full, her lashes so long and dark, kissing her cheeks when she blinks.

“‘Accept what it is. Let it go, and have faith in what it will be.’ Or in Shea’s words, ‘Leave it on the ice, mat, or stage.’ Depends who he is talking to.”

I quirk my lips. “I know.”

“So stop being a grumpy ass and let me meet your linemate.”

I’m confused by the change in subject. “Excuse me?”

“Moon?” she asks, looking out at the crowd of people on campus. “He lifted the cage of his helmet, and holy hot hell, he is yummy. Hook me up.”

I just blink. “Go home.”

“Ryan!”

“Go home now,” I demand, and I’m met with her laughter.

“Don’t be such a baby! I’m a woman.”

“Ew, you’re like ten.”

“Eighteen!”

“Same thing,” I say, yet she follows me to my truck.

“Come on, Ryan. Guys are intimidated. I swear they look at me like I’m a kid. But if I have you introducing me, I’ll be good.”

“No and no,” I say simply, looking seriously at my baby sister. “I will not hook you up.”

“Ugh. You suck.”

“You’ll thank me when your heart stays intact. Guys suck.”

“So? It’s part of the experience.”

“Experience? Are you insane? Go home.”

“No, please.”

“No, plus Moon has a girlfriend.” He doesn’t, but I’m not telling her that.

She’s deflated for maybe a second before she asks, “McNeil. He’s huge—”

“Go home, Amelia.”

She whines playfully. “No, drive me home.”

I give her a dry look. “You live not ten minutes from here.”

“I know, but I wore heels, which I know is dumb. But Sofia is like stupid gorgeous, so I had to look good.”

I raise a brow. “Hot, huh?”