Living With My Hockey Star Stepbrother

Lily Baker’s POV Moving to a new country because your mother decided to fall recklessly in love at forty-two should qualify as emotional terrorism. Or a felony. Possibly both. I slouched farther into my seat, staring blankly at the hockey rink while men crashed into one another at alarming speed and thousands of people screamed. Cold air drifted through the arena, sharp enough to settle beneath my sweater, while giant screens flashed the logo for the NY TITANFALL above the rink. The crowd loved them. But personally, I found the entire atmosphere exhausting. My phone buzzed against my thigh. I ignored it, but thirty seconds later, it buzzed again. Then again. A man a few seats away cast me the sort of glance usually reserved for people who talked loudly in movie theaters. Sinking lower, I accepted my fate. Fine. With the enthusiasm of someone volunteering for execution, I desperately pulled my phone free. Mom was calling. Naturally. I rejected it. A text arrived immediately: Lily, where are you? Come upstairs. I stared at the message. Upstairs. Meaning the premium seats. Meaning Ethan. Meaning pretending I enjoyed any of this. Three months ago, my life existed in Chicago where everything made sense. I had friends. Plans. Familiar streets. College applications spread across my bedroom floor. Then my mother met Ethan. Nine months later, she got engaged. Two weeks after that, we moved to New York. Just like that, as though my entire life could be packed into cardboard boxes and relocated without consequence. The phone buzzed again: Mom: This is important. Stop avoiding me. Important. That word again. Mom had repeated it all week. "You need to come to the game" "No, I can’t explain yet" "Please trust me." All sounded suspicious like the kind of sentence people used before ruining your evening. Another vibration rattled my phone, causing the woman in front of me to twist around, irritation burning in her narrowed eyes as she compressed her lips into a thin, white line. “You mind?” “No,” I muttered, my throat tightening as I rose to my feet. “Trust me, I’m trying to escape too.” I shoved my phone into my pocket and slipped into the concourse, where the arena stretched around me in waves of noise. Fans crowded concession stands wearing navy Titanfall jerseys, arguing passionately about players I didn’t know and frankly had no interest in meeting. Mom insisted I come, yet she refused to explain why. Somehow, that annoyed me more than the move itself. If she wanted family bonding with Ethan, she could’ve said that. If she planned some awkward surprise introduction to his extended family, I deserved emotional preparation. Instead, she’d practically dragged me here while acting cryptic enough to qualify as suspicious. My phone lit up again. I silenced it for the sake of my sanity, and then— Impact. I stumbled backward after colliding with someone. “Sorry, I wasn’t—” The apology dissolved somewhere around my lungs. No. No chance. No universe. Tyler Monroe stood in front of me wearing a dark jacket and the same familiar, self-satisfied grin. Beside him stood a blonde girl with glossy hair, her shoulders thrown back with an expensive-looking confidence. Tyler blinked once, and then recognition sparked. “Lily?” A laugh slipped out of him. “Wow. Didn’t expect to see you here.” I looked around instinctively, half convinced hidden cameras existed, because this felt cruelly orchestrated. “What are you doing in New York?” I couldn't help but ask. “Hockey.” He gestured toward the arena. “Titanfall’s playing tonight.” The blonde looped her arm through his, her eyes widening in a glossy, predatory sort of interest. “Oh,” she said brightly. “This is Lily?” An unpleasant chill coiled tightly in my stomach. Tyler noticed. He always noticed anything asides my happiness. His grin sharpened. “Yeah,” he said. “My ex.” Wonderful. Exactly the title I wanted. His girlfriend tilted her head. “The Lily?” The question landed strangely and I furrowed a brow. Why did she say it like that? Tyler barked out a laugh and it didn't help my growing discomfort. “Trust me,” he said, his chest puffing out slightly as he leaned into her. “You should hear what happened after our first time having s*x! Lily was so–” “Nope.” The word left me before he could continue. Whatever humiliating nonsense waited on the edge of his tongue deserved immediate death. I already knew Tyler’s habits; embarrassing moments became comedy material whenever he found an audience, and judging by the excitement dancing across his face, tonight promised a full performance. “I should go.” I declared out of manners. I turned before Tyler could continue, my feet frantically carrying me through the crowd. Behind me, his voice followed. “Seriously? Come on, don’t walk away.” Jesus f*****g Christ, hearing his tone, voice or even his breathing was so infuriating! Months ago, Tyler cheated, lied, and somehow transformed himself into the victim while I became crazy Lily who couldn’t let things go. The worst part? People believed him, because Tyler had charm. Charm covered rot frighteningly well. Footsteps echoed behind me, matching my pace. I glanced back and realized the blonde girl was gone, but Tyler wasn't. “Why are you acting weird?” he asked, keeping pace. “It’s not that deep.” Not that deep!? I wanted to stop, and yell at him. But f**k it. Cheating rarely felt shallow to the person being humiliated. I clasped my lips, then rounded a corner before spotting a plain dark door tucked against the wall ahead. Without pausing to think, I grabbed the handle. Fortunately, it was unlocked. I slipped inside and frantically shoved the door shut, leaning my full weight against it. Silence settled—well, relative silence, as the distant roar of the crowd lingered beyond the walls. Outside, the footsteps slowed, stopped, and after a tense beat, eventually faded away. Relief washed through me hard enough to make my shoulders loosen. Finally. Tyler was gone. I shut my eyes for one glorious second but didn't try to move. Maybe if I stayed hidden long enough, Tyler would lose interest and return to his abandoned girlfriend. “What the f**k is this?” I did not expect for a deep, irritated voice to break through the darkness. Most importantly, I did not expect it to be from a male. But it did, and immediately, my eyes snapped open. At first, all I noticed were legs. Very long legs. Alarmingly bare legs. Confusion arrived first, then concern, then pure horror as my gaze traveled upward. I saw bare thighs. Bare stomach. A broad chest. And finally—bright green eyes fixed on me with equal parts annoyance and disbelief. My thoughts began to scatter. Wait.. Why was there no ..towel? Or clothes? Or dignity left in this room!? Why was there a naked man!??