2. Emmett

CHAPTER TWO

emmett

There’s no bettersound than blades hitting the ice. No better feeling than gliding over the smooth surface. And nothing quite hits like home than a freezing, temperature-controlled rink.

Three days a week isn’t enough. Maybe it would be different if I were actually playing hockey, but this is almost as good.

“Coach Dalton.” My boss, Fletcher, waves me over from across the ice.

He’s standing by the side boards with … oh, fuck.

Professor Brooks. From last semester’s statistics class.

When Bowser, aka Harrison, aka Benny’s boyfriend—the reason Bowser had suddenly gotten so friendly with me—found out Benny and I had been switching places for classes since middle school, Benny vowed to stop, and he dropped the class. He’ll have to make it up eventually, but until he can get the learning resources he needs, there’s no way someone with his level of dyscalculia could pass a college statistics class.

When Ben said he wanted to be tested, he asked if I wanted to as well. It would make sense if I had dyslexia, but the thing is, I have absolutely no plans to go back to college and get my degree after leaving San Diego State. And by leaving, I mean getting kicked out.

Fires are a big deal to them, apparently. Oops?

I have no idea what I am going to do with my life, but I know it’s not going to be in some engineering firm being bored to death.

Fletcher cocks his head at me, probably because I’m only staring at them and haven’t changed directions, but I don’t know how to handle this.

I can’t be recognized as Ben because I’m known as Emmett here. But if Ben’s professor sees Ben on campus and mentions seeing “him” here, I’ll be in just as much trouble.

Because as much as Ben likes to think we don’t have secrets from each other, I’ve been keeping this one massive thing from him. How do I tell him I have a job as a hockey coach?

When he decided for us to quit hockey, I didn’t protest. I agreed with him on his reasoning. That the pressure of being Dalton legacies was too much. The expectation for us to be the greatest players of our generation thanks to our pedigree made us crumble. To the world, our big brothers are NHL royalty; to us, they’re the guys who stepped up when our parents passed away. West quit the NHL, and Asher put his career on hold.

Ben hated seeing how the media treated West and Asher. Reporters pitted them against each other, compared Asher’s stats to West’s all the time, even when Asher won a Stanley Cup his rookie year and smashed all of West’s rookie records. He’s still compared to him years after West has retired. Ben hates the industry for that, so he decided to become a sports reporter to write real stories instead of the toxic shit our brothers had to put up with. I hate the industry for how they treated West and Asher too … but … it turns out I love the game more.

So yeah, Benny doesn’t know I’m here, and his professor doesn’t know I exist.

“Dalton.” Fletcher waves me over again.

I pull my Buffalo cap with Asher’s number down further on my head and slowly skate over to them.

“Coach Dalton, this is Jonah Brooks and his nephew, Cullen. Cullen will be joining your class today.”

“How old is he?” I ask with maybe too much judgment in my tone. He’s short and completely swimming in his hockey gear.

Sure, the classes I teach are intro to skating and hockey, and most of my students average between seven to ten, but my youngest student is five.

“He’s six.” Professor Brooks pats his nephew’s helmet. Six is a good age. And he is adorable in his oversized jersey and helmet.

“Momma says I haven’t hit my growth spurt yet,” Cullen says. He’s articulate and has a confidence about him.

I smile down at him. “Well, the good news is you don’t have to be tall to be a hockey player. The skates will make you taller, and the smaller you are, the faster you’ll skate.”

“And the harder he’ll get hit,” Professor Brooks mumbles.

I make the mistake of lifting my head and locking eyes with his rich brown gaze. My throat feels thick as something like recognition crosses his face.

I avert my attention back to his nephew but talk to Professor Brooks while avoiding eye contact. “We don’t play contact at this level. We teach the kids how to skate, shoot, some puck-handling skills, but most importantly, we show them how to fall safely.”

“Fall … safely?” Brooks asks. “Bit of an oxymoron, isn’t it?”

Fletcher steps in for me. “You’re welcome to watch his first lesson if it will make you feel any better.”

Noooo. That doesn’t help, Fletcher. Jeez.

Brooks’s smile catches my eye. “I think I’ll like that.”

“Great,” Fletcher says. “I’ll show you to the stands.” He turns to me. “You got Cullen from here?”

“Of course.” I hold out my hand for Cullen to take, and I’m about to let out a breath of relief when Brooks and Fletcher go to walk off, but then the professor pauses.

“Have we met before?”

I swallow hard. “Nope. I just have one of those faces.” Technically, not a lie. He has seen my face around. On Ben. Or me pretending to be Ben.

Choosing between blowing my cover with Professor Brooks or telling my brother I’m coaching hockey because I miss the sport we both vowed to hate, I’d choose option C. Whatever that may be. A skate to the face, a broken wrist, ankle, whole-body cast. In my brother Asher’s favorite words, I’d rather eat shit and die before doing either of those options.

I watch Fletcher and Professor Brooks as they walk around the rink to the other side where the stands are and am caught off guard when Brooks turns to look at me.

We lock eyes again, and I know this is bad. He might not have recognized me from class, but it won’t be long before he pinpoints exactly where he knows my face from.

And then?

Well, nothing might happen. People have twins. There’s no logical reason for Professor Brooks to jump to the conclusion that I was taking some of Ben’s classes for him.

But with my secrets piling on top of secrets, thanks to taking Professor Brooks’s class, I know statistically, one of them is bound to get out. And if one gets out, they all will.

Like the accidental fire at San Diego State that had me kicked out of college. I’m keeping that little tidbit from my older brothers.

Taking Ben’s math classes that I’m keeping from the entire campus other than Benny’s boyfriend, Harrison.

And my day job from the one person I promised to never lie to or keep secrets from.

We were always known as the chaos twins, the Dalton Duo, but at twenty-one years old, I’m starting to think there is such a thing as too much chaos.

I’m losing myself more and more each day, and the only time I get that sense of self again is when I’m here on the ice.

I refuse to let anyone take that away from me.

Ben isn’t in Jonah Brooks’s class anymore, so they have no reason to speak if they run into each other. Ben probably doesn’t want to face his statistics professor after dropping the class and getting an incomplete in fear Professor Brooks would figure out Benny wasn’t the one in his class.

Ben can’t know what I do with my spare time, and Professor Brooks can’t find out there are two Bens.

I just have to hope Professor Brooks and my brother never cross paths again.