In the heart of Harvard, Alessia Gilmore is ready to embrace her second year and the independence it brings. After a summer spent reconnecting with friends and discovering herself, she's determined to step out of her twin sister Rory's shadow and ca...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The rink was eerily quiet, the sound of Avery's skates cutting through the ice sharp and solitary in the near-empty arena. It was the day before the tournament, and while the rest of the team had finished practice and were filing off the ice, Avery remained, focused on the rhythm of his movements. The emptiness felt comforting-no crowd, no distractions-just the chill of the ice and the quiet of his mind.
Beau and Riley were the last to leave, standing by the bench as they pulled off their gear.
"Everything good?" Riley called out, watching Avery as he skated smoothly across the rink.
"I'm fine," Avery replied, his eyes fixed on the puck, expertly handling it with precision as he skated in tight circles. His body ached from the long practice, but his mind was still racing with the pressure of the upcoming tournament.
Beau leaned against the boards, watching Avery for a moment. "Don't overdo it, man. We've got the whole tournament ahead of us."
Avery spared a quick glance toward them, feeling the familiar weight of tension in his shoulders. "I'm going to hang back and practice a little more. You guys can head out. I'll catch up later."
Riley exchanged a look with Beau, a hint of concern crossing his face. "Don't stay out too late. Coach'll lose it if you do."
Avery waved them off, giving a brief nod as they turned to leave. The sound of their footsteps faded, leaving him alone on the ice. With a deep breath, Avery went back to work, the quiet arena surrounding him once again as he pushed through his remaining drills.
He skated to center ice, letting his breathing steady as he lined up another shot. His focus wavered, though; tomorrow was the tournament, and the anticipation-no, the pressure-had settled over him like a weight he couldn't shrug off.
The slap of his stick against the puck echoed through the arena, the shot flying just wide of the net. He frowned and skated after it, frustration simmering beneath the surface.
"You're still leaving the left side open," a voice said, clear and cutting.
Avery froze mid-stride, his blood running cold. He didn't need to turn to know who it was, but he did anyway. Number 24 stood at the edge of the rink, already lacing up his skates like he belonged there.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Avery asked, his voice sharp.
Number 24 smirked, stepping onto the ice with easy confidence. "Nice to see you too. What's it been? Two years?"
Avery's jaw tightened. "Cut the crap. You knew I'd be here."
"Maybe I did," Number 24 replied, skating closer, his smirk fading into something sharper. "And maybe I didn't care."
Avery clenched his fists around his stick, his voice dropping. "You're playing in this tournament?"
"You're quick," Number 24 said with a mock clap, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "I thought the jersey might give it away."
Avery's glare hardened. "You couldn't find another tournament to crash? You just had to be here?"
"Relax," Number 24 shot back, his expression hardening. "This isn't about you, Avery. I'm here for my team."
"That's a joke," Avery snapped, skating a step closer. "Everything you do is about me. About proving you're better, or smarter, or-"
"Oh, give me a break," Number 24 interrupted, his voice rising. "Not everything is about you, little brother."
The words landed with a weight that filled the empty rink, and Avery's chest tightened. He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head.
"God, I hate that you're my brother," he said, his voice raw. "It's like you were put on this planet just to screw up my life."
His brother, Marcus, skated a slow circle around him, his eyes narrowing. "Funny. I was about to say the same thing about you."
Avery's grip on his stick tightened, the years of tension, resentment, and unresolved anger rising to the surface. "What's your plan, huh? To waltz in here and try to throw me off my game? Newsflash, Marcus-nothing you do is going to change the fact that you're the one who screwed everything up."
Marcus stopped in front of him, his expression dark. "Careful, Avery. You might want to save some of that anger for the ice tomorrow."
"Oh, don't worry," Avery said, his voice low. "I'll have plenty left for you."
The tension between them hung heavy in the air, the cold biting harder now. Marcus finally skated away, turning his back on Avery.
"See you tomorrow," he said without looking back, his voice carrying across the empty rink.
Avery watched him go, his chest tight and his mind racing. He had known this moment was coming the second he saw the jersey-but now that it was here, he wasn't sure he could keep the past from bleeding into the present. Tomorrow wasn't just about the tournament anymore. It was about him and Number 24.
