And I knew my brothers felt the same.
The drive to the hockey rink was quiet, the kind of silence that wasn’t uncomfortable but charged, like we were all gearing up for battle. Because that’s what hockey practice always felt like—especially under Coach Ward. The guy was ruthless, and he demanded nothing less than perfection. No excuses, no leniency.
Which meant tonight was going to be brutal.
“We’re gonna get murdered,” Alan muttered from the front seat, stretching his neck like he was already trying to loosen up for the beating to come.
Alek smirked, his hands steady on the wheel. “You mean *you’re* gonna get murdered. I’ve been skating circles around you for years.”
Alan shot him a glare. “Keep talking, and I’ll aim for your face during scrimmage.”
“Enough,” I said, my v
