Page 2 of Against The Boards

I pulled out my phone and hit the only number I had on speed dial. I pressed my phone to my ear while I paced in the parking lot and waited for Tristan to answer. While everyone else referred to my brother by his hockey nickname, our family still called him Tristan. Like how he was the only person I tolerated calling me Roxie.

“Yo, what up, slut?” Tristan teased in greeting.

“Hoe!” I teased back.

Your brother calling you a slut might offend other women, but Tristan and I had always teased each other this way. It was kind of our thing, and I knew he didn’t mean it.

“What’s up?” he asked again.

I sighed. “Theoretically, if I needed to move to Philly, where would be the best place to move to?”

“What?”

I dug my headphones out of my purse and popped them into my ears. I opened the web browser on my phone and scrolled through apartment listings. “Is Kensington a good area? Or Northern Liberties?”

“Wait, time-out. What do you mean theoretically?”

Maybe it was a twin thing, but I could practically see his brow furrowing at my question. “Okay, not theoretically. I’m moving to Philly.”

“Okay…” He trailed off. “Okay, cool. Come down after I get back from The World Hockey Championship. We’ll go tou—”

“No, Tristan, I need to move today. ASAP.”

“Is this because you’re homeless?”

I squeezed my eyes shut and swore under my breath.

My brother and I told each other everything. Although he knew about my break-up, I had conveniently left out the part about Lisa kicking me out of the apartment. I had a pretty good idea who told him, considering I had been sleeping in her guest room for the last two weeks.

“Nat told you?”

“I called her.”

Shit, that wasn’t good.

Tristan had dated my friend Natalie in high school, but she had been cruel to him. So cruel that I thought she was the reason he never let himself get close to anyone. I didn’t think they were on speaking terms. If Tristan called her because he knew I was keeping something from him, that meant my life had spiraled more out of control than I realized.

“I’m worried about you,” my brother said in a small voice.

“I’m fine! I just got a brand new job, and I’m gonna start a new life in Philly. So get used to seeing me a lot more.”

“Where are you?”

“Broad Street.”

“What’s the job?” he asked in a huff.

“Sales Manager with the Bulldogs.”

“Stay there. I’m coming to get you.”

He didn’t even say goodbye before he promptly hung up. Typical TJ Desjardins! Shoot the puck first and pray to the hockey gods it went into the back of the net.

I scrolled through apartment listings while I waited for my brother and tried to figure out my next step. The rumble of an engine ten minutes later made me look up. I rolled my eyes when I saw the sleek black Maserati idling in front of me. Tristan rolled the window down and grinned at me from the driver’s side. I rolled my eyes at his backward baseball cap. Was it the law for hockey players to wear those?

“Get in!” he yelled.

I sighed and got into the passenger seat.