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PROLOGUE
OLLIE
SENIOR YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL
“Good game, Burnham,” Chase yells out as he walks toward the exit with his parents.
“Nice deke, Matthews,” I respond to his back as he pushes through the doors.
Chase faked out an opposing defenseman to score in the third period tonight. His goal secured the victory against our crosstown rivals.
Chase smiles over his shoulder with an arrogant expression on his face before disappearing behind the door. It was a sweet move, and we both know it.
“We’ll see you at home,” Dad promises, slapping me on the shoulder as Mom pulls me in for a quick hug.
I shift away when she starts to ruffle my hair. I hate when she babies me, especially in front of my teammates. I’m an eighteen-year-old man, not some kid.
“Give Oakley a ride home.”
“Okay.” I agree, watching as they leave.
As much as I complain about my mom hovering and my dad taking too much of an interest in my hockey playing, I secretly love the fact that I can’t remember a single game that they didn’t attend over the years. From junior league to high school, they’ve been a permanent fixture in the stands, cheering me on from the sidelines. My sister too. Even when I played on that traveling team and we competed every single night.
I search around the foyer until my eyes land on my sister. She’s a little over two years younger than me, and she doesn’t have her driver’s license yet, but that will change in a few months when she officially turns sixteen. She’s standing against the wall, twirling a piece of her long hair around her finger, watching as my teammates approach from the locker room. My eyes narrow when I see her stare land on Sam Anderson and linger a little too long.
“Oak,” I yell, my voice sounding harsher than I intended.
Her eyes whip over to me, wide and innocent. She’s beautiful and sweet. She’s too trusting for her own good. Most of these guys would chew her up and spit her out. I know because I hear what they say in the locker rooms. The way they treat girls. I don’t pay much attention to it until I think about my sister being with one of them. I’ll do everything in my power to prevent her from getting hurt. And so far, my efforts have worked. My teammates are too scared to come within a foot of Oakley. Mostly because I’ve threatened them within an inch of their lives.
I tip my chin toward the exit. “Let’s go.”
“Hold on. I need to find Madison.” She lifts a finger and starts glancing around.
I sigh and run a hand through my wet hair impatiently. It’s damp with sweat, not from a shower. I want to clean up at home before going out for the night. Reyes, one of the senior forwards on our team, is having a party later, and I plan on making an appearance.
I track Oakley as she starts walking back toward our locker rooms, and that’s when I spot Madison, her best friend. She’s leaning against the wall and staring up at Jared Ackerman, a senior at our high school who plays on the soccer team. Madison’s blonde hair is down around her shoulders. Her sweater is too tight, showcasing those breasts she’s developed over the past year that I shouldn’t notice, but do. And her jeans look like a second skin. But what makes me really frown is the way she’s staring up at Jared, like she’d give him anything he asked for. I don’t like it because I know Jared will take whatever it is that she’s offering. He’s already conquered half of the girls in our senior class.
I guess he’s moving on to the sophomores now.
I shouldn’t feel protective of Madison. She isn’t my blood, but she feels like family as much as she hangs around our house. Though the more her body keeps changing, the less I look at her as a sister, and the more I see her for the gorgeous blonde that she’s becoming.
Her hair falls to the top of her hips when she leans her head back and cackles at something Jared just said.
“Mads,” I yell, using her nickname.
She glances over at me at the same time Oakley steps up beside her.
“Time to go.”
Madison frowns at me as Oakley says something in her ear. She glances back at Jared, that coy smile reappearing.
“Now,” I demand.
I know I sound like an asshole, but I don’t care. I’m tired and impatient and ready to leave. And the last thing I want to do is sit around this arena and watch my little sister’s best friend flirt with a douchebag from the mediocre soccer team.
Oakley gives me a look, silently telling me to chill, while Madison glares over at me.
I turn to go, knowing if they don’t follow, I’ll leave both their asses stranded here even if I have to endure the wrath of my father later because of it. But they push through the doors a few seconds behind me, their heads dropped together as they talk, probably detailing whatever it is that idiot was saying.
