Unbreakable

by Jennifer Lazaris

  Part of me regrets not telling them, though. After all, it’s the biggest night of my life, and I just want people I love in the audience. I want to share it with someone.

  Time flies by as we finish getting dressed and ready for the game. I’m trying hard to stay in the moment and absorb all of this—the coach’s pre-game talk, the players lining up to take the walk down the tunnel and out onto the ice, and the pre-game rituals and joking around.

  A few of the other guys on the team clap me on the back before we head out to the rink. It’s just so surreal.

  Before I know it, we’re heading down the tunnel and toward the ice. Little kids hang over the railing wearing Wolverines jerseys. They yell and hold their hands out as we go by, anxious for the players to acknowledge them. I hold up my fists and try to bump all their hands as I go past. After all, I used to be one of them, and I remember the feeling of watching the players take the ice. They were larger than life to me, like gladiators.

  Everything comes at me at once when I’m finally on the rink—the sound and feel of my skate blades on the ice as I tear around our zone, the smell of the arena, heavy with popcorn and cotton candy, and the noise of the fans. They’re excited and cheering, even though it’s only warmups. Music blares from the speakers as the players begin stretching and taking shots at the net. I pause for a moment near the boards and glance around, trying to take everything in and commit it to memory.

  Directly in my line of sight across the rink in our zone, I see someone holding a big white sign with my number, 14, written on it in purple ink. It’s directly against the glass and impossible to miss. Lots of Toronto Smoke fans attend the Wolverines games, so it’s cool to see this little show of support for me. It pumps me up.

  I take a few shots at the net and glance up in the direction of the sign again, but it’s changed.

  In its place is a sign that reads, “We’re so proud of you, Mav.”

  Emmy peeks out from behind the sign and gives me a smile.

  Everything feels like it switches into slow motion when I see her, except for my heart, which is pounding away in my chest.

  Her hair is straight and loose around her shoulders, and she’s wearing a purple and white toque—Wolverines’ colors—and a Wolverines home jersey. She turns around, and emblazoned across the back is my name and number.

  Happiness floods me, and a huge, stupid grin practically splits my face in two when she holds up a package of cigars.

  She remembered.

  She remembered everything.

  It takes a second for me to register that Sully’s standing next to her. He nods and gives me a sheepish look, then shrugs. Axel, Dylan, and Violet fill the seats behind him. Peyton stands one row behind Violet, dancing on her seat to the warm-up music and holding her beer out in my direction. A few more of my Smoke teammates stand nearby in the aisle.

  A lump forms in my throat as I glance back over at Emmy.

  I’m not sure how any of this happened, but knowing they’re here has made this day a million times more special than it started out. I’m on the verge of crying like a big baby, and hockey players don’t fucking cry. I quickly gather my composure and take another shot at the net before someone sees me getting all choked up.

  John Breaker skates past me and tilts his head toward the stands. “That your family, Maverick?”

  I swallow against the lump in my throat and nod. “Yeah. That’s my family.”

  It feels so damn good to say that aloud, but even better knowing that it’s the truth. Emmy and Sully are my family. We’ve had a rough few months, made stupid decisions and fought, but it’s over now. We can move forward and put it behind us.

  Emmy has no idea what she’s done for me tonight. I’m on top of the goddamned world, and I have her to thank for it. It’s almost like she gave me back my parents tonight, even if it was just for a moment. That’s a gift that I’ll never forget, and one I can’t repay.

  She places one hand against the glass as I go by, and I can’t resist giving her a wink. Seeing her look so damn proud gives me the extra shot of confidence I didn’t know I needed.

  I have to get her alone later tonight. We need to talk. But first, I have to take care of business and get my mind right for this game.

  It’s time to focus and give my family a few more reasons to be proud of me.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  EMMY

  Will skates past me and winks, and butterflies take flight in my stomach. No one, and I mean no one, pulls off a wink better than Will Maverick. It’s never cheesy or corny. It’s just the sexiest thing ever.

  Instinctively, I reach out and touch the glass as he goes by. I know he’s not going to return the gesture, and I wouldn’t expect him to in this environment. Still, I can’t help reaching out for him. I’m pretty sure I’ll be reaching out for Will my entire life, no matter what ends up happening between us.

  Sully elbows me as Will takes a few more shots at the net.

  “I’m heading up to the VIP boxes. Luca’s dad has a box, and he invited the guys. Do you ladies want to come with us?”

  I glance over at Sebastian “Luca” DeLuca. He’s a defenseman for the Toronto Smoke and one of the most popular players on the team, thanks to his reputation as a rough and tumble enforcer. Luca’s known for always stepping up to defend his teammates and never backing down from a fight.

  He’s well over six feet tall without skates, and one of the strongest, most muscular guys on the Smoke. He’s also incredibly good looking, with dark black hair that’s a bit too long in the front, and icy blue eyes that seem to look right through you. Women fall all over him, but he doesn’t stick with any one of them for long.

  I glance over at Peyton, and she doesn’t even bother to hide her open admiration as she stares shamelessly at him. She’s a second away from needing a drool cup.

  “No, I think we’re going to stay here. I want an up-close view of the action.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you all after the game.”

  Peyton and Violet move down to the seats on either side of me as the rest of the guys take off up the stairs. Peyton winks at Dylan as she passes him by, but she also makes sure to brush up against Luca, who gives her a thorough once-over.

  I roll my eyes as she plops down in the seat next to me.

  “Holy crap. That guy is sex on a stick.” She turns to watch Luca as he climbs the stairs. “Look at that ass. Good Lord.”

  “I thought you were into Dylan?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

  “Dylan doesn’t respond to a damn thing I do. Did you see me wink at him? And you know what he did? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I didn’t even get a smile,” she says glumly.

  “Dylan doesn’t seem like a flirty kind of guy, Pey. That’s not going to work on him.”

  “What do I have to do? Strip down to my underwear and throw myself at him?”

  Violet takes the seat on my left and snorts. “Well, shamelessly staring at another guy right in front of him isn’t going to help your case any, Peyton.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Dylan didn’t even notice I was looking at Luca,” she mutters.

  Violet gives my jersey a tug. “What about you? Are you doing okay?”

  I give her a hesitant smile. “I guess so. I’m just not really sure how to feel right now. Does that make sense? I have no idea where Will and I stand, so it’s weird.”

  Peyton shakes her head. “Look, I don’t care what he told you at the cottage. The way he looked at you a minute ago? It’s like you’re his entire world. Just sex my ass.”

  “But Will and I have always been close friends,” I argue. “And he’s the one who told me not to confuse our friendship with sex. So how do I know he wasn’t looking at me just now like a friend? Or like a friend with benefits?”

  Peyton rolls her eyes. “Get a clue, Em.”

  I pull off my toque and sink back into my seat as the Wolverines begin the final skate around their zone. They’re going so fast it’s almost a complete bl
ur, but I still manage to find Will as they speed by us. He looks so tall and imposing on his skates. And so, so handsome.

  “You’ve got it bad, Sullinger,” Peyton laughs, poking me in the side. “Was the sex really that good?”

  “Peyton!” Violet reaches over and gives her a playful smack on the arm. “Some things are private, you know.”

  “What? I’m merely pointing out that she looks like a lovesick puppy watching her man skate around out there.”

  “He’s not my man,” I counter. “And yeah, the sex was that good.”

  Violet sighs. “Can we please keep this conversation G-rated, ladies? There’s families with little kids sitting nearby.”

  “Yes, Mother,” Peyton says, giving her a mock salute. “Oh, man. Vi, I can’t wait until you’re getting banged and want to shout it from the rooftops.”

  Violet turns a deep shade of red. “I wouldn’t be shouting that from the rooftops.”

  “Even if it was Sully that you were banging?” Peyton challenges.

  “Okay, can we please not discuss my brother and banging in the same sentence?” I ask, making a face. “Gross. And if that ever happens, talk to Peyton about it. That’s a conversation I won’t be able to have without vomiting, so spare me the details, I beg of you.”

  Peyton snickers and tosses a piece of popcorn in her mouth. “She’d never tell me. Vi doesn’t bang and tell.”

  “Damn right I don’t,” she says, glaring.

  Peyton blows her a kiss. “We’ll see about that. Anyway, I’m going to find a bathroom and get another beer. You guys want anything while I’m up?”

  “Nope. I’m good,” I say, taking a sip of my cola.

  “Get me popcorn, please.” Violet hands her a twenty-dollar bill.

  We watch as she slides past a group of college-aged guys farther down our row. They turn and follow her progress up the stairs. Peyton puts some extra swagger into her step and gives them a flirty smile over her shoulder.

  I elbow Violet. “Ten bucks says she has a date with one of them by the end of the night.”

  Violet glances up at the Jumbotron, which is counting down the minutes until the start of the game.

  “She exhausts me sometimes,” Violet says quietly. “I love her, but I wish she knew when to quit, you know?”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Is everything okay with you two?”

  “Yeah, of course,” she says quickly. “I’m just a little worried about her. She’s always been a wild one, but…”

  I turn in my chair to face her. “What’s going on?”

  Violet sighs. “That’s the problem—I’m not really sure what’s going on. I mean, we all know Peyton loves sex, but lately, she’s hooking up with guys who she’s barely known for five minutes. And I mean that literally. We went to a party on campus, and she went into a bedroom with someone we’d been introduced to only a few minutes earlier. Something’s just off.”

  That worries me. Peyton’s always had a very active sex life. And though she does have a tendency to hook up more after breaking up with someone, it’s usually after an entire night of flirting. Not minutes.

  “Ever since she broke up with Finn, it’s gotten really bad. It’s like he broke her spirit and her confidence. But you know talking to her about it isn’t going to make a difference. She’ll just blow it off,” Violet says.

  “Well, we might have to if this keeps up. I don’t want her to get hurt.”

  Our conversation is interrupted by a loud buzzer, signaling that the break is over and it’s time for the game to start. Lights flash and music blares as the announcer introduces the Wolverines to the hometown crowd.

  We jump to our feet and cheer as the players skate out of the tunnel and onto the ice. I find Will immediately, and my heart swells with pride. He looks so intense out there. I can tell he’s in full-blown game mode. He probably won’t see a lot of ice time, but judging by the look on his face, he’s more than ready for this.

  “Are you in love with him, Em?” Vi asks.

  My cheeks get hot, and I can’t even bring myself to meet her eyes. “I don’t know. I’m not sure how I feel.”

  “I’m just saying, I’ve never seen your eyes light up around any guy like they just did when you saw Will.”

  “Everything’s so jumbled up right now, Vi.” I toy with a loose string on the end of my jersey. “I’m almost afraid to feel too much. I don’t know what he wants from me. I’m still wrecked over what happened between us.”

  “For what it’s worth, I think Peyton’s right. I think you’re going to find out he’s crazy about you. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t just sex for him, Em.”

  We both watch as Will skates over to the bench and grabs a water bottle.

  “I wish I hadn’t told him I had feelings for him. Because when I told him, he almost looked like…” I shake my head at the memory. There had been so much anguish on his face that it had stolen my breath.

  “Like what?” Violet asks gently.

  “Like he was in pain,” I admit. “What does that mean, Vi? That he can’t stand the thought of me falling for him?” I push a lock of hair out of my eyes. “Ugh, I can’t think about it any more right now.”

  John Breaker, the first-line center for the Wolverines, prepares to take the face-off against an Ottawa player at center ice.

  From the corner of my eye, I catch Peyton juggling popcorn and a tray with two beers as she brushes past the college guys at the end of our row. She sinks into the chair next to me and hands Violet her popcorn.

  “I thought you could use this,” she says, smiling as she hands me the other beer. “Might help calm your nerves.”

  At this moment, she’s just Peyton—she’s not hiding behind teasing words or a wall of false bravado. And as much as I want to believe that Violet’s overreacting about Peyton’s recent behavior, I can’t anymore.

  For the first time, I notice the dark circles she’s trying to hide with concealer and the slight strain lines around her lovely green eyes.

  I take the beer and give her a smacking kiss on the cheek. “Have I told you lately that I love you and that you’re a wonderful friend?”

  I can almost see her protective walls slide back into place as she rolls her eyes at me. “It’s just a beer, babe. Not a million-dollar cash prize. Though the prices in this damned place are astronomical.” She takes a big swig of beer. “What did I miss?”

  I gesture at the Jumbotron. “It just started, so nothing.”

  Despite being my friend forever and surrounded by hockey players like Sully and Will, Peyton knows absolutely nothing about hockey. She hates all sports and usually avoids any professional sporting event like the plague. The only reasons she’s here tonight are to support Will and because she knows it’s important to me.

  Not even five minutes go by, and she’s firing questions at me.

  “Why did they blow the whistle again?” she complains. “They’ve already had three whistles, and this thing has barely even started. It’s going to take forever to get through this game.”

  “Because the play was offside,” Violet says, leaning over to grab Peyton’s beer. She takes a big drink and hands it back to her.

  “What does that mean?” asks Peyton.

  “The Wolverines are trying to score, and their forward crossed the blue line into Ottawa’s zone before the puck did,” I explain. ‘The puck has to cross first.”

  She gives me a pained look. “Yeah, I’m going to need more beer to get through this game.”

  Violet grabs my arm. “Will’s taking his first shift!”

  My heart leaps into my throat as his skates hit the ice. My palms begin to sweat as I lean against the glass. I crane my neck to follow his progress as he enters Ottawa’s zone.

  I can’t even begin to imagine the emotions he’s feeling right now, but his face gives away absolutely nothing. He flies down the ice, every powerful stride he takes exuding pure confidence.

  I’ve seen Will play many times before, but this is
different. It’s like getting a peek at what his life will be like in a year or two, because I know he’ll make it to this league full-time.

  He’s not only talented; he’s got vision. Hockey’s a fast game, but Will’s mind is like a machine, reading plays and people faster than most of his teammates. Every single shift, he tries to create opportunities on the ice for himself and his teammates to score, and that’s something that every team values.

  Will gets into a wicked battle for the puck along the boards, but manages to steal it away. He sends it behind the net to his center.

  “Is that Lilly?” Peyton asks, leaning forward and peering a few rows down from us.

  “What?” I glance away from the game and look around, distracted.

  Peyton points to the next section on our left.

  Sure enough, there she is, wearing skin-tight jeans, ridiculously high-heeled boots, and a Wolverines jersey just like mine, with Will’s name and number on the back. Her straight black hair is pulled away from her face into a sleek, high ponytail.

  “How the hell did she find out Will’s playing tonight?” I snap. “Did you guys tell her? Because I really can’t see her reading the hockey news sites to find that out.”

  Violet shakes her head. “No way. I haven’t talked to her since that night at the cottage. Have you, Pey?”

  “Of course not. I don’t want this one killing me,” Peyton says, hooking a thumb in my direction.

  I glance back out at the ice only to discover that Will’s shift has ended. Ugh! That girl ruins everything. I don’t want to miss one second of action tonight.

  I take a long sip of my beer and try to keep my mind on the game, but seeing her wearing his jersey makes me want to punch walls. The more time that passes, the more steamed I get. Even when Will gets two more shifts, I have trouble concentrating.

  Why won’t she give up?

  “Oh, sweet baby Jesus. Check it out—she has his number painted on the opposite cheek,” Peyton says, palming her face as Lilly turns in our direction to talk to a girl sitting in the seat next to her.