Page 85 of Wild Card 13

He skated straight toward our corner before peeling away at the last second, reaching out with one gloved hand to tap the glass exactly where I was standing.

Thunk.

Just once.

Quick.

Almost secret.

Then he pushed backward toward center ice before Coach could yell at him again.

"You've got to be kidding me," Arlo groaned melodramatically.

"What?"

"He celebrates with you before his teammates."

"He absolutely did not."

"He literally ignored everyone else."

"He had six people hugging him."

"And somehow still found you."

Naomi didn't even look away from the ice. "I told you," she said quietly. "He always knows where you are."

The words wrapped around my heart before I could stop them.

I looked back toward center ice just as Ty adjusted his helmet.

For one brief second, across the noise and bright lights and hundreds of people packed into the arena, he smiled only at me. Like scoring had been fun. But making sure I'd seen it—that had been the point.

Northbend held onto the lead for the rest of the game.

Ty took one spectacular hit halfway through the third that sent him sprawling into the boards hard enough for the entire arena to suck in a collective breath.

I was already half out of my seat.

"He popped right back up," Arlo said before I could panic.

"I know."

"You weren't watching."

"I was."

"No," he said with entirely too much satisfaction. "You were making the face."

"What face?"

"The one where you look like you're about to climb over the glass and fight somebody."

Naomi nodded thoughtfully.

"It is a very specific face."

"I do not have a face."