The Pucking Player

7. Sisterly Help

7

SISTERLY HELP

SOPHIE

T he low hum of the engine vibrates through the car as I turn onto the familiar street. It’s the kind of quiet Sunday afternoon where the world seems to pause, holding its breath in deference to the season’s beauty. Everything feels softer in the winter—the sounds, the light, even the thoughts that drift through my mind.

I ease my foot off the accelerator, slowing to take in the sight of my childhood home. The grand Victorian stands tall and proud. A soft blanket of snow clings to the roof and the wraparound porch like frosting on a cake. No matter how many times I see it, the house never fails to make me feel like a kid again.

The bare oak trees lining the street stretch their skeletal branches toward the sky, their long shadows dancing across the snow-covered ground. The crunch of my tires on the icy driveway echoes through the still air as I pull in, cutting the engine. For a moment, I sit there, the silence settling over me like a comforting weight.

When I step out of the car, the cold bites at my face, but the snow crunching under my boots fills me with an odd sense of satisfaction. My breath escapes in little puffs, visible for just a moment before disappearing into the crisp winter air. The familiar scent of pine and wood smoke greets me, and I let it fill my lungs, warming me from the inside out.

My eyes drift to the porch, the heart of so many memories. The swing in the corner sways gently as Jessica rocks on it, and I can almost hear the echoes of laughter and whispered secrets that once filled this space. Lazy summer afternoons with a book in my lap. Confessional heart-to-hearts with my sister. Watching Mom and Dad toast each other during their weekly happy hour, an unshakable tradition no matter the weather.

“Finally!” Jessica’s voice rings out, pulling me from my thoughts. She’s bundled up in a thick coat and scarf, a knitted hat perched atop her head. A mug of something steaming is cradled in each hand, her cheeks are rosy from the cold, but her smile is pure sunshine. “There you are,” she calls, holding out one of the mugs as I make my way up the steps. “I thought you might need something to warm you up. Mom and Dad were about to send out a search party.”

“Lifesaver,” I say, my gloved hands curling gratefully around the mulled wine. The spicy aroma of cinnamon and cloves rises with the steam, wrapping me in instant comfort. “It’s freezing out here.”

Jessica pats the space beside her on the swing. “Come on. We’ve got plenty of time before dinner.”

I settle in beside her, the old wood creaking beneath our weight, and take a cautious sip. The warmth spreads through me like a slow flame, chasing away the chill of the day. For a while, we just sit, the swing rocking gently as we watch the steam curl up from our mugs. The snow glows golden in the fading light of the late afternoon, and for a moment, it feels like nothing in the world could disturb this peace.

But then Jessica turns to me, a sly glint in her eye that I know all too well. “So,” she begins, her voice light but loaded with meaning, “a little birdie told me Liam O’Connor made an appearance on campus today. Care to share?”

I nearly choke on my drink, sputtering as the mulled wine burns its way down my throat. “Wait, what?” I manage to wheeze, coughing into my scarf. “How…?”

Realization hits, and I whip my head toward her, narrowing my eyes. “Oh my God. It was you, wasn’t it? You told him where to find me!”

Jessica doesn’t even bother denying it. She grins like the Cheshire cat, leaning back against the swing. “What can I say? He asked. I delivered.”

“Jessica!” I groan, swatting her arm with my free hand. “What happened to sisterly loyalty?”

“Oh, please,” she says, rolling her eyes. “This is sisterly loyalty. Don’t act like you’re not flattered. Or interested.”

“I’m flattered. But not interested,” I protest. The traitorous blush creeping up my neck tells a different story. “And flattered doesn’t mean I want him stalking me at my dorm!”

Jessica laughs, her dark hair spilling out from under her hat as she leans forward. “I know Liam, Soph, he won’t do that. And besides, if you’d just given the poor guy your number like a normal person, he wouldn’t have had to take desperate measures.”

I open my mouth to argue, but no words come out. Because as much as I hate to admit it, she has a point.

“You like him, remember?” she says, taking another sip of her mulled wine. “Or have you already forgotten all those love poems you scribbled in your journal?”

I groan again, pressing my palms to my face. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Jess. He’s so… Ugh. Charming and cocky and impossible. He’s gonna be third-degree burns.”

Jessica shrugs, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Good thing you’re studying medicine then. And maybe some excitement would do you good.”

I glare at her, but I can’t stop the giggle that escapes me. “You’re the worst, you know that?”

Jessica throws her head back and laughs, the sound crisp and musical as it echoes into the still winter air. “Guilty as charged! But the poor guy was practically on his knees, begging for your number. It was just too pitiful. I had to step in. Call it a mercy mission.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re absolutely incorrigible, you know that?”

Jessica shrugs, unrepentant. “It’s part of my charm, or so I’ve been told.” She takes another sip of her mulled wine, watching me over the rim of her mug. “Now spill. Tell me everything. ”

I sigh, settling back against the swing as it creaks gently beneath us. “Alright, fine. Casanova waited for hours in the freezing cold until I found him leaning against his stupid car.”

Jessica’s eyebrows shoot up. “That’s some serious dedication. Either he’s totally into you, or he’s lost all common sense.”

“Probably both,” I mutter, unable to suppress a groan. “Long story short, I ended up giving him my number. He wasn’t going to leave otherwise.”

Jessica lets out a low whistle, nudging me with her elbow. “And? What’s the plan? Are you going to go out with him?”

I hesitate, chewing on the inside of my cheek. The warmth of the mulled wine does little to ease the conflict roiling in my chest. “I don’t know, Jess,” I admit finally. “I did some digging online, and the stories about him…” I trail off, shaking my head. “They don’t exactly scream boyfriend material.”

Jessica sets her mug down on the swing’s armrest, her expression softening. “Okay, I get that. But maybe there’s more to him than what those stories show. I mean, think about it—Dad wouldn’t have him as team captain if he was a total scumbag, right? He’s got to have some redeeming qualities.”

I let out a skeptical laugh, swirling the wine in my mug. “Jess, Dad doesn’t give a damn about Liam’s sex life as long as he performs on the ice. He could be dating the entire Victoria’s Secret catalog, and as long as he’s scoring goals and keeping the team in line, Dad’s not going to care.”

Jessica presses her lips together, considering this. “Maybe,” she admits. “But you should find out for yourself who he really is, not take for granted what the tabloids say.”

I shake my head, still unconvinced. “I don’t know if it’s worth the risk. I don’t want to end up like one of those girls in the headlines.”

Jessica tilts her head, studying me like she’s trying to read my thoughts. “But what if he’s not?” she counters gently. “What if he’s actually into you? Wouldn’t you hate to wonder what might’ve happened if you never gave him a chance?”

Her words land harder than I expect, and I feel my chest tighten with that same dangerous curiosity that’s been swirling in the back of my mind ever since Liam kissed me at the hospital.

I look down at my mug, my reflection rippling faintly in the dark liquid. “I don’t know,” I murmur. “I just…I can’t tell if he’s worth the gamble.”

Jessica bumps her shoulder against mine, a gentle nudge of encouragement. “Hey, you’re young, and you’re hot. What have you got to lose, baby girl? Your virginity?” She chokes on her own joke. “You’re old enough to appreciate a good old romp between the sheets now, and who better to give up your V-card to than someone with experience? Live a little, Soph. Besides, I have a feeling that Liam might surprise you.”

I raise an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of my mouth. “Speaking of walking on the wild side, how’s your love life these days? Any lucky hockey player caught your eye?”

Jessica snorts at my attempt to change the topic, shaking her head. “Please. With Dad always lurking in the shadows, I’m lucky if a guy even looks in my direction. I swear, he must have put the fear of God into the entire team. Or I’m just hideously ugly and no one has the heart to tell me.”

I swat at her arm, my eyes wide with disbelief. “Shut up, Jess. You’re gorgeous, and you know it. Those guys are intimidated by your brilliance and your killer right hook.”

We dissolve into giggles, the sound echoing off the porch and into the quiet street. Our laughter is interrupted by the sound of the front door opening.

“There are my girls!” Mom exclaims, her face lighting up with joy. Margaret Novak is a vision, even in her mid-fifties. Tall and slim, she moves with effortless poise, her high cheekbones catching the light and her piercing green eyes— eyes that seem to see straight into your soul—dancing with warmth.

She’s dressed in one of her signature looks: a black boat-neck dress that hugs her figure perfectly before flaring into a playful tulle skirt that swishes when she moves. The outfit, like her, is an expert mix of elegance and flirtation.

Mom is relentless when it comes to staying sharp—physically and mentally. Every morning at five-thirty a.m., she’s in the home gym lifting weights, tackling the workout routines Dad creates for her. “Why hire a trainer,” she always says with a sly smile, “when you can marry one?”

But tonight, none of her usual edge is on display. Instead, she’s all warmth as she takes us in, her smile wide and radiant. “What are you two doing out here in the cold?” she asks, her voice rich with affection. “Your father and Adam are playing chess in the living room.”

Jessica and I exchange a knowing glance. “Just catching up,” I say, standing and pulling Jessica to her feet. “You know, girl talk.”

Mom raises an eyebrow. “I see. Well, don’t let me interrupt. But don’t take too long, okay? Dinner’s almost ready.”

“We’re coming,” I say and we follow her into the house, shedding our coats and scarves. As we make our way toward the living room, Jessica leans in close, her voice a conspiratorial whisper.

“Don’t think you’re off the hook, missy. I want to hear all the details as your situation unfolds.”

I groan. But as much as I dread the interrogation I know is coming, there’s something comforting about having a sister who knows me so well.

As Jessica and I step into the living room, the familiar warmth of home wraps around us like a favorite blanket. The last rays of the winter sun stream through the large windows, casting a golden glow across the room. The fireplace crackles softly, its flickering flames filling the space with a comforting heat, while the shelves lining the walls are stuffed with books that tell the story of our family’s lifelong love of reading.

In the center of the room, my father and Adam sit hunched over a chessboard, their concentration so intense, it’s almost comical. Adam’s dark hair is tousled, his jaw tight as he moves a knight to capture one of Dad’s pawns.

“Nice try, rookie,” Dad mutters, leaning back in his chair as he surveys the board with a knowing grin.

I step over to Dad’s side, resting a hand on his shoulder. He glances up at me, his blue eyes crinkling with warmth. “Hey there, sweet pea. Come to witness your old man crush your brother in real time?”

Adam snorts, shaking his head. “In your dreams, Dad. I’ve got you exactly where I want you.”

Jessica sidles up to Adam, peering over his shoulder. “I don’t know, bro,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “Looks like Dad’s got you cornered. You might want to rethink your life choices.”

I study the board myself, noticing Dad’s queen hovering dangerously close to Adam’s king while Adam’s remaining bishop and rook seem stuck in a desperate defense. Dad’s trademark patience is on full display, and I can already tell the game’s outcome.

“Checkmate incoming,” I tease, grinning at Adam.

He groans but doesn’t take his eyes off the board. “Not happening.”

Dad lets out a chuckle, clearly enjoying himself. “We’ll see, son. Never underestimate experience.”

Before he can make his next move, Mom’s voice rings out from the dining room. “Dinner’s ready, everyone! Come and get it while it’s hot!”

Dad stretches, standing with a smile as he places his queen into position anyway. “We’ll call it a draw for now. But don’t think you’re off the hook, Adam. This game’s to be continued.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Adam grumbles, but there’s a grin tugging at his lips as he stands to follow us out of the room. “You’re just stalling because you know I was about to win.”

Jessica snickers, nudging him. “Sure, Adam. Keep telling yourself that.”

The dining room is a Norman Rockwell painting come to life, all warm wooden tones and soft candlelight. Mom’s china gleams on the table, a stark white canvas for the colorful feast she’s prepared. The aroma of roasted chicken and herbs makes my mouth water as I slide into my usual seat.

Daddy takes his place at the head of the table, his presence as commanding here as it is on the ice. “Alright, troops,” he says, reaching for the mashed potatoes, “let’s dig in.”

As we pass dishes around, clinking silverware against porcelain, Jessica clears her throat. “So, about this PED scandal...”

Just the mention of the team makes my mind wander to Liam.

His ice-blue eyes…Those strong hands...

No, Sophie. Focus .

“I’ve noticed something odd,” Jessica continues, her PR mode activated. “There’s been a surge in betting activity on the Defenders’ games. And get this—people are betting against us.”

Daddy’s fork pauses halfway to his mouth. “Against us? Even after we’ve shown the negative drug tests of all the players?”

Jessica nods, her expression grim. “Someone’s trying to capitalize on our damaged reputation. It’s like they’re counting on us to fail.”

“Well, they’ve got another thing coming,” Adam growls, stabbing a piece of chicken with unnecessary force. I swear, sometimes he’s more guard dog than brother.

“Absolutely,” Daddy agrees. “I have to say, I’ve been impressed with how the team’s handling this mess. Especially Liam.” My heart does a little flip at the mention of his name. “He’s really stepped up as captain, keeping everyone united. And of course, everyone’s been cooperative with the drug tests.”

Jessica and I exchange a look across the table. If Daddy only knew about Liam’s...extracurricular diversions, like pursuing his daughter with the determination of a heat-seeking missile. My cheeks flush at the memory of his lips on mine, and I take a large gulp of water.

“The important thing now,” Adam chimes in, “is fixing the team’s image. We need to show the world that the Defenders are stronger than ever.”

I nod, trying to look engaged while my traitorous mind replays the feeling of Liam’s arms wrapped around my waist.

God, what is wrong with me?

One kiss, and I’m turning into a lovesick teenager.

Mom, ever the peacekeeper, changes the subject. “Did you all hear about the weather forecast? They’re saying we might get hit with quite a blizzard soon. It’s coming in from the Midwest.”

“Oh yeah,” Jessica says, scrolling through her phone. “It’s looking like a real one. They’re talking possible whiteout conditions, maybe even power outages.”

“Well, isn’t that just the cherry on top of our PR sundae,” Adam mutters.

As the conversation drifts to storm preparations, I find myself zoning out again. All I can think about is Liam—his smile, his laugh, the way he looked at me like I was the only person in the world. It’s intoxicating and terrifying all at once.

I’m so lost in my Liam-induced haze that I almost miss Mom asking me to pass the salt. As I reach for it, I wonder what it would be like to have dinner with him. At a restaurant, or even here at my parent’s house. To see him in a warm family setting instead of under the harsh lights of the ice rink?

The thought causes goosebumps to pop over my arms, equal parts excitement and fear.

Because falling for Liam O’Connor?

That might just be the most dangerous game of all.