14. Kirin #3
“I know she’s trying to survive a tough situation, and I know you’ve been making it worse.”
Her cheeks flushed. “We were just—”
“Hazing her? Like she’s some punk freshman?” he asked, and the words landed like a slap. “You’re the captain, Laurel. You set the tone. You went after her, and the team followed your lead. You think that’s a coincidence?”
Her shoulders tensed. For a second, she looked ashamed. “She’s never complained.”
“She shouldn’t have to,” he hissed. “You’re supposed to have her back.”
She didn’t have a response to that, so he pushed.
“What’s the end goal here, Laurel? You want her to prove you right and retaliate?
That’ll only prove you’re a bully, exactly what you’re accusing and punishing her for being.
” He paused and considered. “Do you want her to quit? To transfer out? You really hate her enough to lose the highest-ranked player on your team?”
Laurel’s shoulders stiffened, her head turning to meet his gaze. “She won’t last much longer.”
“She will. She will fight through the rest of the season and come back next year for more,” he countered, and she frowned—confusion darkening her expression. “Whatever made her enter the transfer portal, it wasn’t because the team wasn’t good at Westmont.”
“She’ll transfer again at the end of this year.” Laurel shrugged again, and he wanted to shake her.
“She won’t.” He shook his head, and he knew it was true. “Everyone said it: nobody in their right mind would take a transfer from Westmont to Montgomery. Especially a Westmont legacy.”
He lifted his brows, but she was already shaking her head, so he kept going. “Don’t you get it? Rose isn’t here because it was her only choice. She chose Montgomery for a reason.”
Laurel huffed as if it were obvious. “We’re the best.”
“It’s not because of soccer,” he ground out, voice lowering as he considered what the implications were because it didn’t make sense.
Westmont was a top program, and they had a slightly stronger record.
With her ranking, she could have landed a position on the other side of the country if she wanted, closer to home.
No, she chose Montgomery on purpose. He just didn’t know what it was.
Not yet. “She’s not here because she wants to be; she’s here because she needs to be. ”
That shut her up. The game went on below, little bodies sliding across the ice, and he watched a few drop to the ice and start making snow angels.
Evan’s voice was on the edge of stressed as he tried to encourage the four-year-olds back onto their skates from the bench.
When it didn’t work, Evan paced in the box, tugging at his hair.
A few minutes later, his team was all back on their skates, meandering their way down the ice, chasing the puck.
Finally, Laurel whispered, “Why her?” It wasn’t an accusation this time—it was small and hurting. “You could have anyone. Why does it have to be her?”
Kirin leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees, trying to find the right words.
“Because she doesn’t treat me like everyone else.
She’s not impressed by what I do or what people say about me.
She doesn’t need me to be anything except honest.” He glanced at his sister. “She makes me want to be better.”
Laurel blinked at him, as if that was the worst answer he could have given. “You sound insane. There are other girls who could do that—who actually fit into your family.”
“Maybe,” he breathed. “But I don’t want anyone else.”
The admission came out simple, solid, like a truth that had been sitting in his chest waiting to be spoken. And saying it out loud didn’t scare him—it felt like relief.
Laurel stared at him, searching his face for the version of her brother she understood. “You’re serious?”
“Yeah,” he said, meeting her eyes. “I am.”
For a moment, she looked ready to argue again. Then her expression wavered, torn between frustration and reluctant concern. “You deserve better than her.”
He let out a small, humorless laugh. “That’s the thing. I’m not sure there is better. I want her, even with the issues it could create between us.” He gave her a sad smile. “Though I hope it won’t. I think you’d like her if you gave her half a chance.”
Laurel looked away, chewing on her lip. The words had hit somewhere she didn’t want them to.
When the game ended, the crowd rose, filing out to go retrieve their kids. Kirin stood, stretching. “Look, I love you, Shrimp. But I need you to stop making her pay for things that aren’t her fault. She’s not the enemy, not anymore.”
Laurel crossed her arms, still frowning. “You really think she’s worth it?”
“I already know she is.”
She stared at him for a long moment—hurt, angry, maybe even a little betrayed—but she didn’t argue again. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders anyway, pulling her close as they headed for the stairs.
“Give her a chance,” he said. “You might be surprised.”
She didn’t answer, but she didn’t pull away either. It was a step in the right direction, so he didn’t say anything else as he guided her downstairs to wait for Evan.