“She wants him to know she’s watching. That she’ll see him after.”
“She’s not coming?” My voice is steadier than I feel.
Issy shakes her head. “She can’t, she needs to deal with this.”
I nod.Keep it together, Collette. Your brother needs you to keep it together.“I’ve got it,” I tell Issy. My voice doesn’t crack, my face doesn’t crumble, and I am a goddamn professional. She squeezes my arm and heads back up to the family suite.
Pierre sees me from the ice a few minutes later and skates over to the boards. He takes one look at my face and knows. Pierre has always been able to read me like a book, even when I think I’ve got my mask on tight.
“Don’t tell Felix, but shit’s gone down,” I say quietly.
“Is Issy okay?”
Of course, that’s his first question. The man’s entire world revolves around that woman, and honestly, it’s kind of beautiful even though it makes me want to gag. “She’s fine. She’s up in the family suite. But Harper isn’t okay, and we need Felix’s head in the game.”
Before I can say more, Felix skates over and joins us, helmet pushed back, cheeks pink from warmups, completely oblivious. “Hey, Lettie.” He knocks Pierre’s helmet playfully.Don’t let him see it on your face. Smile. Be normal.
“You guys look good out there together. Can I get a picture?” I hold up my phone, and they pose, arms around each other. Felix is grinning his big, dumb, beautiful grin, and my heart fractures a little knowing what I’m hiding from him.
“Do you know if Harper is coming?” he asks.
Lie.“She should be. There’s an accident, so traffic is crazy.” The words come out smooth and easy, and they sit like acid in my stomach.He relaxes and gives me a thumbs up before skating away. I watch him go, and I feel sick lying to him. Pierregives me a concerned look but doesn’t push it. “Smash them,” I call after Pierre.
“I’ll do my best,” he calls back, and the look he gives me over his shoulder says, ‘I’ll handle it out there. You handle it in here.’
That’s always been the deal with us, the St. Pierre division of labor. Pierre handles the physical, I handle the emotional, Felix handles the charm, and Jo, when she’s here, handles the logic. Apart, we’re a mess. Together we’re unstoppable.
Tonight, I wish Jo were here.
I watchthe game from the family suite with Issy, Mom, and Marcus, Pierre’s manager. The suite is all glass and leather and the kind of corporate luxury that still feels surreal even though I’ve been in rooms like this my whole life because of my brothers. Issy is next to me, her hand gripping her wine glass so tight I’m worried the stem will snap. Mom is on the edge of her seat, her reading glasses perched on top of her head like she always wears them when she’s too nervous to sit still.
The game is physical from the drop. LA came to play dirty, that much is obvious. Every shift, someone is in Felix’s ear. I can’t hear what they’re saying from up here, but I can see the effect. His passes are sloppy, his body language is tight, and he’s taking hits he’d normally dodge. Pierre body checks one of them into the boards so hard the glass shakes and the crowd roars.
“That’s my boy,” Mom says proudly, which makes Issy beam beside her.
Then Felix breaks away and scores, and the suite erupts. Mom is on her feet, Issy spills her wine on her jeans, and I’m screaming like a lunatic, slamming my palm against the glass.That’s my brother, that’s my little brother, he scores, everyone goes wild.
And then everything changes.
There’s a confrontation, Felix is in someone’s face, and the gloves come off. The crowd surges to its feet as I watch my little brother throw punches at Stephen Carter, and my stomach is in my throat because this was always going to happen, but watching it is different from knowing it would. The sound of the crowd is deafening, this roar that fills the whole building, and I can’t tell if they’re cheering or screaming.
Then Felix hits the ice hard, and he doesn’t get up.
The stadium falls silent. That horrible, suffocating silence that only happens when everyone in the building knows something is wrong. I can hear the hum of the lights. I can hear someone’s heels clicking on the concourse below. I can hear my own breathing, short and shallow, and not enough. Get up. Felix, get up. Please get up.
He doesn’t move.
Pierre is there within seconds, dropping to his knees, and screaming Felix’s name. Then my brother launches himself at Stephen, and the whole thing erupts again. His teammates drag him away. The refs blow whistles. Pierre is sent to the penalty box, and I watch my oldest brother smash his stick against the walls like a caged animal while the medical team rushes to Felix with a stretcher.
A stretcher.
Mom is crying and shaking, Issy has her arm around her, holding it together the way Issy always does because Issy is made of something stronger than the rest of us. Marcus is on his phone, pacing. When the entire stadium stands and cheers as they carry Felix off, the sound crashes over me, and I lose it. Tears stream down my face, but I wipe them away fast because everyone needs me to be strong right now.
“We need to get to the hospital,” Issy says, already organizing, already in control. God, I love this woman. Mom is a mess. Marcus has his hand on her back, guiding her as everyone grabs bags and coats.
“I’ll stay and wait for Pierre,” I tell them. Someone needs to be here when he gets out of that penalty box. Someone needs to make sure he doesn’t do something stupid in the parking lot.
“Are you sure?” Issy asks, those dark eyes scanning my face like she can see every crack in my armor.