needed to clear it. “It’s just that I’ve heard so much about you that I wanted to meet you.” She stepped to the side, making room so I could pass.
“Well, hi,” I said, maintaining my fan smile. “I’m Jansen Sterling.” There was something oddly familiar about her face, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Had I seen her at a game before? “It’s nice to meet you.”
She swallowed and shifted her feet nervously. “I guess you should probably get to your game.”
“They do tend to get mad if the starting goalie doesn’t show up,” I joked.
She laughed, a smile flashing across her face. “Good luck.”
“Thanks.” I nodded to her and the quiet blonde who stood just behind her, like she was ready to catch the brunette if she fell. “Enjoy the game…” I waited for her to say her name.
The blonde glanced between her friend and me, then nudged her.
“Mila,” the brunette said, her chin rising slightly as she took a shaky breath. “Mila Zolotov. I’m…your little sister.”
I blinked once. Twice. Somehow I managed to force some air into my lungs while I looked at her again. Her hair was the same light brown Maxim’s was, and there was something about her cheekbones that reminded me of him, too. Holy shit.
“From what I know of you, which isn’t much”—she scrunched her nose—“you’ll probably say something like I don’t have a little sister. Right?”
My mouth opened to reply, but I shut it because she was right.
“But you do. It’s me.” There was a vulnerability in her eyes that somehow glued my feet to the fucking floor.
Maxim, I could ignore. He was an absolute asshole who’d shown up with a chip on his shoulder and hatred in his eyes. But this girl? There wasn’t any malice in her, at least none that I could see at first glance.
“We have the same eyes,” I muttered. “Mine are more gray, but the shape…”
She nodded. “Our grandmother. Maxim and Nikolai have Dad’s eyes, but you and I…” She teared up but shook it off. “Well, we get them from our grandmother.”
“Sterling!” Coach called out.
I put my forefinger up in his direction, asking for another minute, but I was going to need way more than that to digest this.
“And you?” My gaze jumped to the blonde at Mila’s back. Was she another relative?
“Me?” The girl’s features were delicate, with big green eyes that reminded me of a Disney princess, and the majority of her body was hidden under an oversized Reaper hoodie. She shook her head, which sent her glasses sliding down her nose. “I’m just Mila’s friend.” She pushed the glasses back into place.
Mila smiled. “Evie is my best friend. We’re up at Dartmouth right now, but we’ve both been accepted to graduate school here in Charleston.” The grip on her purse tightened. “I mean, Evie got in at Stanford, but we’ve been stuck at the-hip since kindergarten, and the University of Charleston has a great MFA program for photography, and you should see the pictures she takes. I keep telling her that she can’t turn down Stanford, right—”
“Mila,” Evie whispered, her cheeks turning pink.
“Right.” Mila squeezed her eyes shut and took a breath before opening them again. “Sorry, I babble when I’m nervous, and well, I’ve been thinking about this moment since forever. I kind of ambushed you, didn’t I?”
“Uh…” Words. I needed some words.
“Mila, what the hell?” Maxim came down the hallway from the right—the players’ entrance—with his bag over his shoulder.
“Hey!” She waved.
Evie retreated to the wall.
Maxim’s eyes narrowed and he stepped between Mila and me. “Don’t talk to her.”
“Don’t be an asshole, Max.” Mila side-stepped so she could see me, then shoulder-checked Maxim out of the way. “Anyway, I know you have to get to your game, but I just wanted to introduce myself. Maybe we can have dinner after—”
“You’re having dinner with Dad and me,” Maxim snapped.
“Sterling! Zolotov! We have a game, just in case you’ve forgotten,” Coach yelled. “Get your asses in here!”
“Right,” I said slowly. “Mila, Evie, it was nice to meet you.” Those words didn’t come close to explaining what had just happened, but it was all I had.
Maxim sucked in a breath, his glare only intensifying until I walked to the locker room.
“Mila, what were you thinking?” he asked gently as I pushed through the locker room doors.
It was game time.
Shutout.
I played the best game of my life.
Maybe it was knowing I had to narrow my focus to the ice and the ice