Especially when the Assassins have spanked the IceCats in the Stanley Cup finals twice in a row. My dad and new brothers-in-law, who also play for the Assassins, love to remind me of that. While I wasn’t on the IceCats for either loss, it’s still something they like to tease me about. Now, though, the Assassins are in a rebuilding year since they’ve had a lot of loss the last couple months, with their goalie being diagnosed with a heart issue and their coach’s family dying in a car wreck. My mom is a mess and my sister is stressed, but they’re convinced they’ll get themselves a winning team once more. Just gives the IceCats time to get our shit together. I feel we’re going in the right direction, and I’m excited to see what the future holds.

  But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit my heart is with the Nashville Assassins.

  I’m trying to fix that, though. I’m an IceCat now. I love my teammates, and I was drafted with my twin brother. That’s pretty fucking cool.

  “So, you come from money?”

  Again with the pen, she waits for my response.

  I swallow. “My parents have money and I never wanted for anything growing up, but their money isn’t mine. I have my own.”

  She thinks that over and writes something before looking back at me. “You have a twin, you said?” I nod, and she makes a face. “I don’t know if I want to risk the chance of having twins. I don’t want to ruin my body with a double pregnancy.”

  I blink. “Um. Okay?”

  She doesn’t miss a beat, completely oblivious to my annoyance. “Did you go to college or straight into the NHL?”

  “Straight in.”

  “But what if you get hurt? You have nothing to fall back on.”

  “My dream is the NHL. I know it’s not promised, but I do what I have to do to stay healthy and on top of my game.”

  She nods. “I like that—hard worker.”

  Yay? “So—”

  She cuts me off. “How many children do you want? I know your mom has five, but I’m not having that many.”

  “Is this a date or an inquisition?” I find myself blurting out.

  She purses her lips. “A date is an inquisition. We’re learning about each other.”

  “No, you’re asking me question after question and writing stuff down. I don’t know anything about you,” I retort, but I honestly don’t think she cares.

  “Because I don’t want you to know anything about me until I’ve decided if you’re worth it.” She says that so simply, as if it’s totally normal. “Now, how many children do you want? Or do you not want any with the big family and all? Did you even get attention?”

  Yup, I’m out, and I’m going to kill D’Artagnan once I get home. I clear my throat as I reach into my pocket for my wallet. I fish out some cash. “I don’t know if you actually get guys this way, or if any have ever made it through your questions, but I don’t need this. I am worthy, and I don’t need you to decide if that’s true or not.” I throw the money on the table as I push back my seat.

  She scoffs. “Funny, I only have you at a C rating right now.”

  I gawk at her as I stand. “C?”

  She nods, completely and totally sure of herself. “A twin, no college education, no money from family, a huge family, too many personalities, I’m sure. Oh, only one dimple. It’s a deformity, you know? Not good for my kids.”

  I blink. I have so many things I could say to her. The pettiest shit too, but I remind myself that I wouldn’t want anyone talking to my sisters or my mother the way I want to talk to this extremely entitled dumbass. “I wish you the best of luck in your search for happiness.”

  I turn with that, and I almost make it away from the table, but the petty runs deep. I glance over my shoulder, finding her watching me, and I say, “But just FYI, you’ll never be happy with all the ugly inside of you.”

  Her face fills with a frown, and I head for the door, knowing good and well my mom would be so disappointed.

  D’Artagnan’s laughter over my Bluetooth is annoying.

  “A C? Ha, I got a B. Told ya I’m better than you.”

  I roll my eyes. “Apparently my one dimple is a deformity.”

  He pauses. “It is?”

  “Apparently. I haven’t googled it yet.”

  “I doubt it. And don’t let her get to you. She’s a psycho. I was just fucking with you.”

  I make a face of irritation, even though he can’t see me. Surely he’ll hear it in my voice. “Thank you for that. I enjoy having some random girl rate me on all my apparent faults. Being a twin is one of them.”

  He laughs. “No, man. She’s nuts. Thatcher and Audrina thought it would be funny. I’ve been through it. So has Thatcher. Audrina thinks it’s hilarious to mess with all of us.”

  I groan in frustration. I should have known they were all messing with me. Not once has Audrina offered to set me up until now. She’s one of the physical therapy trainers for the IceCats. A damn good one, and we all have a blast together. Thatcher Orlov has played for the IceCats for two years. He’s our age, right around twenty-one, and for the longest time, I thought he and Audrina were together, but actually, they grew up together and are best friends. Brother and sister, as they say. I still think they’re screwing on the side. But all of us, including my brother Evan, get along and do things together a lot.

  “How did Audrina even meet this chick?”

  “I think they’re in book club together.”

  I make a face. “Great, she’ll probably bring my score sheet to book club.”

  “Oh, for sure,” Dart agrees. Thank God for that nickname because his full name is a mouthful. “Don’t worry. Audrina will tell you everything.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  His laughter sets my teeth on edge. “No worries. I think you’re an A++.”

  I roll my eyes. “Fuck off.”

  “Love you too, boo-boo.”

  I hang up and shake my head. Dart is just as much of a nutcase as my date was. He’s a good dude, though. A brother. We get along and like a lot of the same things. Since arriving in South Carolina, Evan hasn’t been adjusting. He spends a lot of time inside, and since I want to explore, I do so with Dart. He’s my partner in crime, along with Audrina and Thatcher.

  I drive past the arena where the IceCats play. I still can’t get over my face on the side of the building. It’s an honor to wear my dad’s number, six, and to follow in his footsteps. I’m making a name for myself, and I know he’s proud. As much as I want to play for the Assassins, I love my life.

  I’m an NHL player on the same team as my brother. My twin. The best person I know. Not many people get that lucky, but I did. I know it hasn’t been easy for him to adjust, but he’s getting there. He’s always suffered from anxiety, but being away from family and in the big leagues has been really hard on him. I worry that he won’t be able to handle it or overcome his apprehension. Doesn’t help that our mom is encouraging him to come home. She worries for him like any mother would, but sometimes I think she doesn’t give him a chance to really feel what he is feeling. She assumes, and it makes him feel what she thinks he feels. I just want my brother to play on the same sheet of ice as me and for us to live our dreams together as the lethal duo we are.

  Once I pass the arena, I head toward the coastline. My grandma and grandpa on my dad’s side own a beach house out here. They were going to sell it to my cousin Amelia, who is actually married to the captain of the IceCats, Chandler Moon, but Amelia and Chandler found a bigger house for their growing family farther up the coast. They just moved a couple weeks ago, which opened it up for Evan and me. Since we have always shared a room, it left a room for Dart. Now the three of us are living our best lives in a killer beach home with no rent because my grandma and grandpa spoil the shit out of us kids.

  Amelia did a lot to the beach house when she was living in it. She painted it a coastal blue with gray shutters. Added an awesome new deck to the back and painted all the rooms fun, beachy colors. I think her plan was to make it an Airbnb. Sorry, cuz. Your baby cousins are taking over. Evan and I share the master, with our two full beds. We’re made fun of, but I don’t think people really think about the fact that we’ve been together since the womb. I hardly go anywhere without Evan. We have the same friends, the same likes, the same taste in everything. We just feel more comfortable together, and for me, it’s not weird.

  It’s normal.

  But if you ask my date from hell, I’m sure she’ll disagree.

  I pull into the driveway on the left, so that if Evan needs to leave, he can. I can’t remember if he has therapy later this evening or if he already went. He tried calling, but I was on my date. Or, sorry, my Spanish inquisition. I get out, locking my doors, and head inside. I find Evan on the couch, watching some sports highlights. I shut the door behind me. “Hey, bro.”

  “Hey,” he answers, reaching for the remote and turning off the TV. “I’m guessing since you’re back, the date didn’t go well?”

  I give him a dry look. “Did you know my one dimple is a deformity?”

  He grins, mirroring me to a tee. Well, except he has two dimples. “Actually, dimples are a genetic mutation. Doesn’t matter if you have one or two.”

  “So, we’re deformed?”

  He smirks. “Yes, but I’ve never been told that. Only that I’m adorable.”

  I roll my eyes. Evan is the model of the two of us. His eyes are a greenish-blue, while mine are blue-blue. We’re both massive in height, with matching dark hair, but I’m stockier. I don’t have the muscle definition he has. Pretty sure I have a thyroid disease like my mom and sister, but I refuse to find out the truth. I just stay a wee bit chubby and use that weight to knock people into the boards. I may not look fit, but I’m fast as hell and know how to use my body to my advantage. I’ve always had a rounder face than Evan. His is more chiseled, but again, I’m not lacking in the good looks department. He may be adorable, but I’ve had girls call me “Daddy” on more than one occasion.

  “Well, that’s good to know,” I say, grabbing a soda out of the fridge. After taking a long pull of it, I look over at Evan and immediately notice that something isn’t right. “What’s wrong?”

  I’m surprised I didn’t notice at first that his shoulders were slack and he has a wrinkle in his brow. He swallows hard, meeting my gaze. “I had therapy today, and it wasn’t good.”

  I come into the living room, sitting on the arm of the couch before putting my feet on the cushions. Dread eats me from within as I ask, “Okay, what happened?”

  He hesitates only for a second because he isn’t talking to someone he doesn’t trust. He’s talking to me. His person. “We can’t find a medication to help with my anxiety. I—” He stops, taking in a deep breath. “I may be done.”

  All the blood drains from my face. “Done?”

  “With pro. It’s too much pressure,” he insists, and I know it is for him. “I don’t even love it anymore, Owen.”

  “No way. You love it.”

  But he shakes his head. “I don’t. I’m struggling, man.”

  My stomach clenches. “Fuck.”

  “I know,” he agrees, the emotion thick in his voice.

  It hurts my heart to hear him say that. “Are you sure?”

  “It’s hard. I know I love it, but I get so overwhelmed before I even hit the ice. I want so badly to be able to go out there and play my game, but I feel like I’m just going to let everyone down.”

  “But you won’t, Ev. You are an incredible player. Everyone is proud of you. I mean, we drafted together.”

  “Because of you, Owen. Come on, they wanted you, and they knew I was attached.”

  “That’s not true. You’re awesome.”

  “I don’t feel like I am. I’ve lost all my confidence, which is something I’ve been working on with the doctor, but I’m struggling, dude.”

  I swallow past the lump in my throat. “So, what’s the plan? Are you going to quit? Go home?”

  He shrugs. “I don’t know. I have another appointment tomorrow, and my doctor wants you to come with me.”

  I meet his gaze, and I can see the fear in his eyes. He’s terrified. He may not enjoy playing right now, but I truly believe it’s from the anxiety, and if we can get that under control, everything would be fine. “Absolutely. I’m there.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Can you hang in there for another month? See if we can fix this?”

  He doesn’t meet my gaze, which gives me my answer.

  No.

  But he mumbles, “Yes.”

  He says it for me, to help me cope with what’s about to happen.

  Problem is, how am I supposed to cope with my twin quitting our sport?

  Chapter Three

  Angie

  * * *

  As the sun peeks through the leaves of plants I’ve strategically placed to keep unwanted onlookers from seeing inside, I yawn loudly. I stretch my limbs, my fingers, and my toes, taking in deep, lung-filling breaths. I hear movement outside of my door, but I pay it no mind. I never expected to share a living space like the one I’m in. I adore London Cross. I met her the day I joined the program over at the IceCats’ compound. She’s been working for Dr. Tembalt for three years and actually voted for me out of all the applicants. I guess my own struggles with all the fun stuff that plagues me daily won her over.

  Not sure if I should be proud of that or not.

  Either way, London is an incredible person. Extremely smart, beautiful, and perfect in all senses of the word. She’s the hottie in the mental health ward, as I hear her called over and over again. I don’t disagree or even doubt the sentiment. She is, and she’s a great person to boot.

  When I stopped communication with my parents, I knew they were going to freak out. They did, and they even came to see me. I wasn’t as big as I am now, so I didn’t freak out. I explained my issues. They listened, reassured me. I didn’t listen to what they had to say, and I felt like I failed them even more. I got into my head, figured I needed to start doing things on my own, so I decided I didn’t owe them anything. I got more scholarships and even started working. It was all too much, though. And then I started having issues with my dormmate. So, I quit my job at the gas station to focus on my internship and school, but still, my dormmate was an idiot.

  Thankfully, London offered me her enclosed porch. Instead of screens, it has walls and then a wall of glass. I could have put up some curtains, but my love of plants came in handy. With loads of building skills I learned from my dad, I made beautiful plant holders and shelves to block anyone I didn’t want looking in. London’s family’s home sits on six acres, and the porch faces the back, so I’m not too worried, but I did it just to be safe. I know for damn sure my mom and dad would lose their minds if they knew, which is why I’ve never mentioned the setup of my room. I couldn’t pass it up, though. I am able to afford the rent and everything I need, just with the funding from my scholarships. It gives me the freedom to focus on my work at the compound and school, while not having to face the shame I’ve caused my parents.

  Not that they’d ever say I’ve caused them such.

  I reach for my medications first, throwing each of them into my mouth before taking a long drink from my water bottle. I automatically hear my mom in my head. “Make sure you eat with those!” So I open a granola bar and take a bite before I reach for my phone. When I see the email from London’s mom to both of us, I let out a sigh. My grandmother has sent in my part of my rent for the month. I smile, grateful, before sending her a quick text to thank her, even though I suspect my mom is actually the one sending the money. And even though I have it covered. I also have a text from both my mom and dad, each wishing me a good morning and telling me they miss me. That they love me to the moon and back.

  I haven’t spoken to them in almost six months, and every day, I get a text like this. I should just swallow my pride, my doubts, and call my mom, but then I see the pictures they send me of my siblings. Their golden children. Their flesh and blood. The twins, Ryder and Max, are killing it on and off the ice, and in and out of the pool. They’re awesome hockey players but even better divers. There is talk of them qualifying for the motherfucking Olympics for their incredible dives.

  Really? I failed because I didn’t make it there, but they won’t fail.

  Then Charlotte, the baby, she has over two million followers on social media and some gaming site, and she gets paid to play games. Plus, she’s super thin and gorgeous and everything I used to be.

  I’m 5’7”, over two hundred pounds, with no social media.

  It’s hard for me. I don’t want to say I’m jealous; I don’t feel like I am. I’m so proud of my siblings, but since I don’t have my dad’s genes, I feel like I’m not as great as them. Also, I’m off living on my own and starting my adult life. I shouldn’t need Mom and Dad parenting me, yet I miss them so much.

  Maybe I should call.

  I hear London talking animatedly, and then her voice carries to my room. “See you at work, Ang.”

  “Bye,” I call out to her. I exhale in frustration because if she’s leaving, that means the movement in the kitchen is her boyfriend, Leroy Graves. While London is awesome, her taste in men is not. I do not like Leroy. Never have. I felt bad at first, but not lately. I get up, reaching for my bath caddy and my towels to get ready for the day. I have classes this morning and then work this afternoon. Of course, thinking of work makes me think of Evan Adler. I am so worried for him, and I feel awful for him. I want so desperately for him to be successful, but I don’t think he can be as a hockey player.

  Which is highly unfortunate.

  I tuck my phone into my caddy and head out of my room. As soon as the door opens, Leroy looks over at me from the table where he is eating a bowl of something. The same look of disgust I’m welcomed with every morning fills his features. If he weren’t such a jackass, I’d find him attractive. He has dirty-blond hair and deep brown eyes. He’s very athletic and hopes to play for the IceCats once he graduates. I’ve seen him play, and while he may look the part of an incredible hockey player, he is not.