POV Tristan
The rink noise died down, every eye fixed on me. It was like someone had hit a mute button. I stood there, two fingers pressed against the red mark blossoming on my forehead. It was still throbbing. A seven-year-old. A tiny, fierce seven-year-old with a plastic hockey stick and a terrifyingly accurate aim. My mind reeled, trying to process the indignity. Too many witnesses. Way too many. Every parent, every staff member, every kid who wasn’t Zara and her accomplice, Finn.
I turned slowly, my gaze sweeping the small crowd. They were all staring. And then I saw her. Evie. She was standing by the boards, her clipboard pressed against her mouth, shoulders shaking. Her eyes, even from this distance, crinkled with mirth. She was laughing at me, openly. Unabashedly.
My blood pressu
