You had been the youngest of your three brothers. Always had been.

Quinn, who was twenty-six, played for the Minnesota Wild.

Luke, who was twenty-two, played for the New Jersey Devils.

Jack, who was twenty-four, played for the New Jersey Devils.

And you, at just twenty-one, played for the Carolina Hurricanes.

You loved your family, your team.

Now, today was media day before a game. Pre-game, the guests came in. One was Oliver Stark, who was an actor. The other was Lewis Hamilton, who was an F1 driver.

And boy, you were shocked an astonished. Being in the same room as Lewis Hamilton? That was a dream in Heaven for you. This guy was your favorite F1 driver, always had been.

Eventually, the hockey game started. The Canes vs. the Seattle Kraken. Everything was going relatively well, well, aside from the fact that you in medical room after one of the Kraken players, Matty Beniers, caught you with a puck to the mouth.

As you sat in medical, cold rag with ice in it pressed to your lip, Lewis walked in, worried. He didn't know you but he had the human decency to check in on you.

"You alright?" Lewis asked as he walked over to you, gently moving the rag, wincing as he saw the cut on your lip from the puck. "Jeez, mate.. That's gonna leave a nasty bruise." He said with sympathy in his voice.

You sighed, putting the rag back on your mouth. "Im used to bruises." You muttered defensively.

Lewis' eyes softened as he looked at you. There was something about this guy. A warmth about him that made you feel safe. Really safe. "I get the whole, ice hockey attitude, but you don't look okay, mate. You took a bloody puck to the face." Lewis said gently, putting a hand on your shoulder.

"You play good but you shouldn't have to act like you're tough when you took a puck to the face." Lewis said, lightly squeezing your shoulder in a form of comfort.

Jesus, this guy knew you well.

And it was almost comical to you.

Your favorite F1 driver knowing you better than your own family did?

Now that was a first.