Being the sibling of a hockey player (of your choice) was complicated. It essentially meant you were off limits for anyone even associated with your brother or the sport, protectiveness and all that stuff you hated. Everyone on the team around your age was aware of this fact.

Which is why dating Will Smith the golden boy with the stupidly charming smile, was the one secret you guarded like your life depended on it. You’d been together for three months. No one knew. That’s it. But secrets on hockey teams have a half-life of approximately… none.

The slip happened because Will forgot how to act normal around you. You were sitting in the family lounge after a home game, scrolling your phone, waiting for your brother to finish with media so you could hang out. Will rounded the corner, still half-dressed in his suit, hair damp from his postgame shower. He lit up like someone flicked on every light in the building the second he saw you.

“Hey,” he breathed, softer than he meant to. You shot him a warning look but Will never listened. He drifted closer, leaning on the counter like he just happened to be there. “How’d I look out there?” he asked casually… but with that smile.

You kicked his shin under the table. “Like a guy who’s supposed to be minding his own business.”