2. Sophie

2

SOPHIE

This is my first time attending an ice hockey match. Game? I’m not exactly sure what they call it. I’m uncertain how Dec ended up here. I know he’d skate on the loch with Miranda when we were kids but I didn’t think that would become this. Maybe he played while he was attending university in New York. My family is into horses. We’re Irish and Scottish, we’d play rugby, maybe shinty if we were doing stuff with sticks. Not ice hockey.

Our parents are here, too. Daphne, the team’s social media manager who’s married to the coach’s cousin, has given us all Devil Birds shirts to wear. Ma and Dad have sweatshirts with Mackenzie on the nameplate and Dec’s number 80 on it. I have a generic team sweatshirt since I’ll be attending a bunch of games as Trevor’s dance partner as well as Dec’s sister. Everyone goes by last names, so Declan is Mac and Trevor is Carter. It’s confusing as hell. Going by Mac at home would never work with so many Mackenzies around.

I wish Declan was playing tonight. I know I’ll have other chances to see him play once his hand is healed, but I don’t know when our parents will get to see him play live. Now that I’m emerging from the tea fog, I can see just how screwed up my actions were over the last few weeks. Dec smashes his hand into a wall, and I blame Miranda because she broke up with him? Guilt twists in my gut. I can’t understand how I could’ve ever thought that. Dec’s responsible for his own shitty actions, not her. I shouldn’t blame myself for my actions while drugged, but I can’t help it. I know I was a bitch to Miranda because she broke up with Declan, a choice she’d made while under the influence of the tea too. And even if she had really wanted to break up with him, he should respect that choice, not choose violence. I should have accepted that choice. It’s a mess, and I can’t help but feel some guilt, even though I know the tea and Miranda’s mum caused all the trouble. I rub at my temples, where a headache has started pounding.

Dec is watching the game with us from the owner’s box. He’s toward the back, so he isn’t as easily seen by the crowd. I understand not wanting to be gawked at by spectators. It’s been announced he’s injured and will miss the All-Star Game with a broken hand, but obviously how he broke it wasn’t disclosed.

Team owners Teagan Penhall and Jake Whitman are in the box. So are Daphne, the coach’s fiancée Mallory, the team captain’s girlfriend Kendall, and some other folks I was introduced to but can’t quite remember details about. It’s not crowded, but it’s not completely private either. That’s fine by me. No questions about the craziness from the past few days with Miranda and her family or feelings or anything else I want to avoid. Nigel is wandering around with Daphne’s husband, Logan, the Devil Birds’ team photographer.

“You started rehearsing today?” Ma asks as we watch the players take the ice for practice. Everyone has their helmets on, but I can pick out Trevor by the way he moves even before I see the Carter and number 24 on the back of his gray-and-blue jersey. I know he’s a wolf shifter like me, but he’s smooth and almost graceful—like a powerful jungle cat stalking his prey. If a disk of hard rubber could be considered prey. I guess it’s a good thing I’m a dancer and not a writer.

“Yeah, just the meeting with Nigel and Nancy…”

Ma makes an ew face. “You got Nancy? She’s the worst. No one wants to work with her. That’s how she ended up on the shifter show.”

I don’t think Ma realizes she essentially called the US shifter edition of Celebrity Dance Dare the dumping grounds of the CDD world. Is that how I ended up on it? I’m not good enough for the UK or Irish versions, not even the Irish shifter Celebrity Dance Dare , so I got shipped off here?

“Yes,” I say, “but she went back to New York, and we have Nigel as our cameraperson. He’s lovely.”

Ma nods. “Nigel is lovely. One of the best camerapeople in the whole franchise. I guess he’s making up for Nancy.”

That’s like saying a cupcake can make up for the bubonic plague, but sure.

“What’s your first dance? Oh, thanks.” Ma accepts the drink Dad hands her as he sits next to her.

I guess I can die of thirst. There’s a bar at the back of the box so I’ll grab something myself, but it would’ve been nice to have been thought of. Whatever. I’m used to it.

“Cha-cha. He’s used to counts and choreo but for cheerleading. I don’t know if he can be fluid with choreography. But he can certainly dance. I just don’t know if he can move with that freedom while following steps.” I cock my head, hoping I’m making sense. “Do you know what I mean?”

Ma nods. “Absolutely. That happens a lot. Sometimes it’s the folks that don’t have a dance background at all that do the best. They’re a blank slate, so we don’t have to retrain them or undo what they’re used to. Does he want to do the show?”

I shake my head. “I don’t think so. It was sprung on him. You know it’s a promo for the team and the league. But he’s being a good sport about it, and I think he’s going to try his best. Can’t ask for more than that.”

Dad leans forward. “How are you going to balance practice and hockey? Are you traveling with the team?”

“I am. We have a practice space at Devil’s Den. He has a dance studio in the barn they all live in. We’ll work it out. We only need to be in New York one day each week for the live shows, and the way the schedule is, there aren’t games on live show days, but who knows if there will be any press commitments that screw things up. If he has to miss a lot of games, he’s going to resist.”

“Well, he’ll just have to deal with it,” Dad says. “My little girl wants to win the Platinum Paw.”

He reaches across Ma’s lap to pat my hand. I have to swallow a couple of times to work the lump back down my throat. I know Dad loves me, but it’s been forever since he’s called me his little girl. I was always grumpy that Miranda was included in everything when we were girls, but considering how screwed up her childhood was, I’m so grateful we were loved and protected by my parents. Dad always made sure we were safe. Of course, as a child, I didn’t have the maturity to see how valuable that was. Okay, I didn’t have the maturity four days ago either, but I’m growing up.

The Devil Birds are playing some Sasquatch team from out west. Their mascot is a big hairy thing. Honestly, I’m not sure it’s someone in a costume. It may just be a Bigfoot shifter fan. I’m surprised they make jerseys and jeans that big. I think the sassy seagull the Devil Birds use is cuter. Cute may not be the right word. Like all seagulls, Shifty the Seagull, also known as Shitty, has an asshole attitude. If I saw him outside with a cigarette, I wouldn’t be surprised. His beak has a slight hook to it, like it’s been punched a time or two. But it’s someone in a seagull costume, not a real seagull shifter.

It’s not the spectators or mascots that are capturing my attention though—it’s Trevor. His helmet covers his deep brown hair with chestnut tones. The face shield probably does nothing to hide the intense focus he gets in his hazel eyes when he’s in the zone. I saw it briefly when we were dancing earlier today. I appreciate the focus, but unlike hockey, you can’t show how hard you’re thinking when you’re dancing.

The game starts, and it’s exhilarating to watch him. He fights for the puck in the opening face-off with a steely determination I can’t help but admire. He goes after what he wants. I just hope winning Celebrity Dance Dare is something he wants enough. He’s agile and fearless. Trevor’s not the biggest man on the ice or even the biggest man on his team, but my eyes are drawn to him every time he’s out there. If he can bring that kind of magnetism to the dance floor, we’ll be hard to beat.

He’s graceful, too, the way he weaves in and out of the paths of the opposing players, trying to take the puck away from him. The way he glides across the ice is almost balletic. You can see how hard some of the other players work to propel themselves along the ice—when they have to change direction, it’s like turning a barge. Trevor zips along and covers the ice as effortlessly as water running downhill. He flows. How he controls not only his body but a however-many-meters-long stick and the puck is beautiful to watch. I need to figure out a way to work hockey into one of our dances.

No matter how hard he works, he can’t get the puck in the net though. It’s like he’s out of sync with one of his linemates. I wonder if he’s Dec’s replacement? I know what it’s like to have to adjust choreography to dance with a new partner and adapt to their hand not being where you’re used to finding it and tweaking the timing. Eventually, you get it, but until you do, it’s frustrating. That’s what seems to be going on here. Multiple times Trevor passes the puck to his winger—I had to look that word up—and the player is a step or two too far back; he can’t reach the puck with his stick. It looks like he’s shorter than Dec and they aren’t accounting for how Dec’s giant strides affect the timing. If Trevor holds the puck for another second or two before passing, the other player will be in position. I can see Trevor’s annoyance in the set of his shoulders, even underneath the pads he wears as he leaves the ice after the scoreless first period.

“Watch Shifty,” Mallory says from the seat next to me, nudging me with her elbow. Miranda left before the period ended to go to the locker room. As assistant to the team’s coach, I guess Miranda’s job calls for her to be with him in the locker room during intermission to take notes or whatever. Dec is on his phone sending texts.

I nod and find the mascot in the aisle by the seats below our box. He bends forward, aiming his backside at the crowd. Suddenly, there’s a pop, and a shower of white shoots out. There’s an excited shout and a teenage girl holds up a T-shirt.

“Good lord! Did he just shoot that out of his arse?” I don’t mean to say it out loud, but I clearly do because Teagan laughs.

“Yeah, his costume has an ASS Cannon built in,” Teagan says with pride. She stands at the front of the box, near our seats. “Air Supplied Souvenir Cannon. It’s a specially designed T-shirt cannon built into the costume. First of its kind.”

I shake my head. “It’s glorious.”

The white glitter confetti is supposed to be like seagull shit. The way it gets all over the place is true to life. It’s incredible.

Shifty steals a few fries from a Sasquatch fan and moves on. Yep, true to life.

“Have you and Carter started practicing yet?” Teagan asks.

Mallory’s grin turns mischievous. “Please make him wear sequins and feathers. And he’s a huge fan of the song ‘Copacabana.’ Loves it.” She’s not only engaged to the Devil Birds’ coach, she’s Trevor’s sister, and she’s clearly hoping to use me to torment him.

I love torturing my brothers, too, and I return her grin. “Pink? Or purple?”

She tilts her head and taps her lips with a forefinger in consideration. Her engagement ring sparkles in the lights of the arena. “Hmm…I’m not evil. How about turquoise? Blue is his favorite color.”

I didn’t know that. Now I do. And for some reason, I like knowing.

I turn back to Teagan. “I told him what our first dance is and the music. We started with some of the basic steps today.”

“Oh.” Mallory glances down at the ice. Both teams are back, and the next period is about to start. “Well, he’s always been stubborn, so if he wants to do this, there will be no stopping him.”

As the second period opens, Trevor is laser-focused on the spot where the ref will drop the puck between him and the opposing player in the face-off circle. With lightning-fast reflexes, he takes control of the puck the moment it touches the ice surface and flicks it back to his teammates. They advance like a battalion on the battlefield as they approach the opposing goal. It’s like a game of keep-away, and following the location of the puck is tricky. Daphne’s tip is to follow the people more than the puck specifically. It helps. Of course, my eyes are fixed on Trevor whenever he’s on the ice. I can’t look away. He’s usually the one with the puck anyway. This period, it’s like Trevor and his winger are sharing a brain. The winger is in the right spot time and again to receive Trevor’s passes. He’s able to direct the puck back to Trevor so he can put it in the net. Trevor does this move Daphne tells me is called a “one-timer” where he plants himself on the ice, takes a full backswing, and propels the puck to the net like it was shot from a cannon.

Even in full uniform, you can see the tension of his muscles and the power of his movements. Trevor is so focused I don’t think he’s aware of the crowd shouting his name or even of the other team. If I was ever the subject of his focus like that, I think I’d erupt in flames. Even our spur-of-the-moment New Year’s kiss, where I had a fraction of his attention, is something I can’t forget. I know I shouldn’t have kissed him at all because I knew we’d be working together as dance partners and it would be a possible complication, but I couldn’t resist. There are more handsome men out there, some I’ve even been with. But none of them have the magnetism Trevor does. Maybe it’s because he’s a wolf shifter, and my wolf is reacting to him on a primal level. Maybe it’s all just biology. Or maybe there’s something more. Doesn’t matter. There can’t be anything outside of a professional partnership between us. I want that trophy. That’s all that matters.

Trevor’s got all his attention on the opposing goal, and when he shoots the puck past the goalie, it takes him a beat to react to his teammates hugging him. But his focus doesn’t seem to be on them. He’s looking up in the stands. At me. I’m with the thousands of other fans standing and cheering, but his gaze zeros in on me like a heat-seeking missile. I can’t look away.

It’s not always the best dancer that wins shows like Celebrity Dance Dare . Sometimes it’s the contestant who rallies the audience behind them and does the best job entertaining. The judges are paying attention to the steps, but the audience is all about the feelings. I’m betting he’s going to be great at stirring feelings. He’s stirring some in me.

The Devil Birds beat the Sasquatch thanks to Trevor’s goals. Tomorrow, we leave for the All-Star Game in Florida. The Devil Birds players and their families will travel on their private plane and I’m included in the entourage. I’m hoping it will give me a chance to talk to Miranda and clear the air. I miss my best friend. I miss being a best friend. I go back across the Boardwalk to the hotel with my parents and hug them outside of my room. They’re flying back home tomorrow. They could’ve gone to Florida to be with me, but I guess that didn’t occur to them.

They came here for Miranda. She’s doing better now and going to the All-Star Game with the team, so there’s no reason for them to stay, especially since Dec won’t be playing. It must be so hard to watch your teammates compete and succeed without you. I know I’d hate to be sidelined by an injury, especially if it’s my own stupidity that caused it. It’s ridiculous that he gave up being in the spotlight because of a broken heart. No way am I ever letting love get in the way of my goals. I’m not stupid enough to let love ruin my chances at success and keep me out of the spotlight.

* * *

I ride to the airport with some of the player families and other VIPs that are flying down to Florida on the team plane. The players and staff, including Miranda, will meet us at the airport since they’re coming from their homes.

As I climb the steps onto the plane, I spot Miranda toward the back. There’s an empty seat next to her, and she’s chatting with a flight attendant.

“Okay if I sit here?” I ask, resting my hand on the back of the empty seat.

She gives me a soft smile. “Yeah, that would be great.”

I whoosh out a breath, hoping it expels the flock of butterflies fluttering in my tummy, and flash a smile at the flight attendant, who steps away to make room for me. I take the seat, stashing my bag under Carter’s seat in front of me.

“Good afternoon, miss. I’m Stella. Would you like something to drink after takeoff?”

“Hi, Stella, I’m Sophie.” I hold out my hand for Stella to shake.

Stella’s smile widens. “Are you Declan’s sister?”

“I am,” I say, arching my eyebrows. “Is it the accent?”

“No, you have the same color eyes.”

“Oh.” I wonder if she has a thing for Declan. Hopefully, she’s not like Doreen and won’t drug Miranda.

“What are you drinking?” I ask Miranda.

“Hot cocoa with whipped cream, but Stella makes wonderful tea.”

The thought of tea makes me shudder.

“I’ll have cocoa too, please, with whipped cream?”

Stella smiles and says she’ll bring our cocoa after we are airborne.

Miranda and I settle in but don’t converse other than basic questions like if I enjoyed the game and how entertaining the Shifty mascot is. She shows me a video from when he was first introduced to the public and there was a speaker malfunction, so it sounded like the little girl announcing his name said Shitty instead of Shifty. Thinking back to the glitter-poop cannon built into his suit, I can see they’re leaning into that identity. It’s hilarious.

Takeoff is uneventful, and once we’re at altitude, Stella brings us our hot cocoas and a plate of snickerdoodles to share. Snickerdoodles are my weakness, and I can’t resist closing my eyes as I chew. She heated the cookies, and I savor the cinnamon and sugar melting on my tongue. I feel Miranda’s eyes on me, so I open mine and grin at her.

“Remember all those times we’d help Siobhan with the baking, and she’d give us a treat?” I say, making air quotes when I say “help.” We were a hindrance, but our family’s cook was a sweetheart who baked like a dream. She’s retired now, with a passel of grandkids she lives to spoil.

Miranda sighs. “I loved spending time with you doing that.” She turns in her seat to face me. Uh-oh, this is it.

“Soph, what happened? We were such great friends, but lately, it feels like you’re mad at me. If I offended or hurt you, I don’t know why or how. I love you and want to make up for whatever I did.”

Tears flood my eyes, and I swallow hard and maneuver to rest my back against the armrest and face Miranda. This needs to be done face-to-face. Here we go. Truth time.

“Oh, Miranda, I’m sorry. You did nothing wrong. I wish I could blame everything on your narcissistic psychopath of a mother, but part of it was, I was jealous of you.”

Her jaw drops. I guess that never occurred to her. Of course not, because she’s a good person. She reaches out and takes my clammy hand, and I cringe at my sweaty palm, but it doesn’t seem to faze her.

“Jealous of me? Why? You’re beautiful and talented. You have a wonderful family that loves you.” She gives my hand a gentle squeeze. “Sophie, you have everything I’ve ever wanted.”

I squeeze her fingers. “I know I’m blessed, and I’m grateful for that. But I’m selfish. Growing up, everyone loved you. You were this perfect little girl that everyone adored. I’m pretty sure you’re my mother’s favorite child.”

Miranda giggles like that’s absurd.

“I’m not kidding. The two of you just get each other in a way that she and I don’t. I don’t know if we’re too similar or too different or a bit of both, but it can be difficult.” I shrug. “I always wanted her attention, and as her only daughter, I felt it was my right. But she was focused on you a lot, and I was jealous. Knowing what we know now, and with whatever smidgeon of wisdom adulthood has given me, I’m so grateful she was there for you. But sometimes I wanted it to be just me and her, and it wasn’t, because you were included.” I can’t hold back the tears now streaming down my cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Miranda.”

She squeezes my hand gently, and I feel it around my heart. “Sophie, that’s understandable. We were children and, of course you wanted your mother’s attention and to be separate from your brothers. I’m sorry I intruded. Things should’ve been different for both of us.”

I wipe my nose with the napkin Stella gave me with the cocoa and give a watery laugh.

“I hate calling her your mother, so I’m calling her Doreen from now on. Doreen recognized how I felt and used that to drive a wedge between me and you. Between me and my family, too. I can see now how she manipulated me. How she used that damn tea.”

“It’s scary,” Miranda says, grabbing her own napkin to wipe her eyes.

It’s terrifying thinking how Doreen could have poisoned either of us and the horrible situations she could have put Miranda in. Thank goodness Miranda was parked in all those boarding schools, considering what could’ve happened if she lived with that viper.

“I’ll get you tissues,” Stella says, checking in on us. I guess our faces tell the tale.

“I’m sorry too, Sophie. We were both victims. Can we put that behind us and just start again? I love you, and you’ve been like the sister I’ve always wanted. I don’t want what happened to come between us.”

Stella returns with the tissues, and we thank her. After we both take a moment to wipe our faces—I am so grateful for waterproof mascara—and declare each other beautiful, we each grab a cookie and settle in our seats.

I grin. “I want to move forward in our friendship and be close again. I would love to have you as a sister.” I wiggle my eyebrows. “Or a sister-in-law.”

Miranda blinks rapidly. Shit. I didn’t mean to make her cry. I’m trying to make things better, not tear us apart again. I lean toward her, and I hope she can tell I’m speaking from the heart.

“Declan loves you. He wasn’t under any spells or the influence of potions or anything.”

“I asked him to give me space.” She speaks softly to her hands, neatly folded across the cookie in her lap.

“I caught that.” I scratch the back of my neck, unsure what to say next. But there’s really only one thing to say. “His heart has always been true, and it’s always been yours. He’s going to give you space because you asked him to. The next move is yours. If you want him, tell him.” I take a deep breath because I’m afraid this next bit is going to put a wall between us again, but I need to say it.

“But please, be sure. It would be kinder to break his heart now than to lead him on and break it later.”

Miranda nods, swallowing.

“To moving forward,” I say, hoping we can truly do that.

“To moving forward,” Miranda echoes, lifting her mug of no-longer-hot cocoa to clink it against mine.

We spend the rest of the flight to Florida gossiping and giggling. This is how it always should’ve been between us. I hope, from now on, it always will be.