My Hockey Stepbrother’s Obesession

Chapter 2

Dane.

The news I didn't expect came in when I was in the middle of bench pressing two-twenty-five when Coach Barrett's whistle pierced through my headphones. I racked the bar and sat up, yanking out my earbuds.

"Lucas! Phone call in my office. Says it's urgent."

I grabbed my towel and headed to the coach's office, irritated. The team's staring, they know I don't get pulled from training unless it's serious.

Coach hands me his desk phone. "Make it quick."

"Yeah?" I answer.

"Dane!" Dad's voice is way too cheerful for a Tuesday afternoon. "Great news! I wanted to tell you in person, but I just can't wait any longer."

My grip tightened on the phone. The last time Dad sounded this happy was before Mom left. Before she decided that being a CEO's wife in Manhattan was more appealing than being a sports medicine exec's wife in suburban California.

That was four years ago. He's been a ghost ever since—working eighty-hour weeks, barely home, definitely not cheerful.

"What's going on?"

"I'm getting married!"

The weight room spins.

"You're... what?"

"I know this seems sudden, but I've been seeing someone for the past six months. Her name is Elena Martinez, and she's absolutely wonderful. She's a real estate agent, brilliant and kind, and she has a daughter your age. Actually, I think she goes to Riverside High too. Lily?"

The phone slips.

I catch it before it hits Coach's desk, but barely.

Lily Martinez.

Perfect Lily Martinez with her perfect triple axels and her perfect grades and her perfect pouty lips that I've spent two years trying not to think about.

The same Lily Martinez who looks at me like I'm something she scraped off her skating blade.

"Dane? Are you still there?"

"Yeah," I managed. "I'm here."

"I know this is a lot to process, but I really think you two will get along once you get to know each other. Elena and I are planning a small wedding in three months, and we're all moving into the house together. Her place is too small, and mine has plenty of rooms…"

"Wait. She's moving in? With her daughter?"

"Well, yes. That's generally how marriage works, son." He chuckles like this is funny. Like he's not about to ruin my entire f*****g life. "I thought you'd be happy. You're always complaining about how quiet the house is."

I'm complaining because you're never home, I want to say. But I don't.

"There's a family dinner tomorrow night at Rossi's. Seven pm. I expect you to be there, and I expect you to be welcoming. This is important to me, Dane."

"Sure. Yeah. I'll be there."

I hang up before he can hear the edge in my voice.

Lily Martinez is going to be my stepsister.

The girl I've been secretly obsessed with since sophomore year is going to live in my house.

Coach Barrett raises an eyebrow. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," I lied. "Everything's great."

---

I skip the rest of practice and head straight to the rink.

I know she'll be here. She's always here on Tuesday afternoons, running through her program for Regionals. Creature of habit, our little ice princess.

I grab my gear from the truck and head inside. The figure skating session is still going, which means the hockey team's ice time doesn't start for another thirty minutes. Perfect.

I spotted her immediately.

She's in the center of the rink, wearing that f*****g black skating dress that's been haunting my dreams for months. It's simple—sleeveless, fitted bodice, short skirt that flares when she spins. Nothing provocative by normal standards.

But on Lily? It should be illegal.

I watched her launch into a jump—triple something, I don't know the terminology, then she landed it perfectly. She made it look effortless, like gravity doesn't apply to her.

She's gathering speed for another pass when she notices me.

Her eyes narrow. She skates to the boards, stopping in a spray of ice right in front of where I'm standing.

"What are you doing here, Lucas? Hockey doesn't start for another half hour."

"Just enjoying the view, Princess."

Her cheeks flush. "Stop calling me that."

"Why? It fits." I lean against the boards, giving her my best smirk. "You are basically ice royalty around here."

"And you're basically a—" She stops herself, glancing at her coach who's watching us with interest from across the rink. "Never mind. I have practice. Leave."

"Actually, I came to talk to you."

"We have nothing to talk about."

"I think we do. Heard some interesting news today." I pull out my phone, pulling up my dad's contact to show her I'm not bluffing. "About our parents."

Her face goes pale.

"So. Stepsiblings. That's going to be interesting."

"It's going to be a nightmare," she hisses, quiet enough that her coach can't hear. "Your dad is clearly having some kind of midlife crisis, and my mom is rebounding from her divorce. This whole thing will implode in six months, tops."

"You really think so?"

"I know so." She crosses her arms, and I try very hard not to notice how the movement emphasizes her—nope. Not going there. "My mom doesn't actually know your dad. Six months is nothing. She doesn't know that he probably works all the time, that he's never home, that—"

"How do you know that?"

She blinks. "What?"

"How do you know my dad works all the time and is never home?"

Pink creeps across her cheeks. "I... I don't. I'm just guessing. Successful executive, single dad, it's obvious.”

"Have you been studying me, princess? I mean, I know you probably have a lot of free time when you're not on the ice, but that….” The realization hits me like a slapshot to the chest. "That is called stalking.."

"Don't flatter yourself, Lucas. Everyone knows your dad is Matthew Lucas from ProSport Medical. It's not exactly a secret."

But she's lying. I can see it in the way she won't meet my eyes, in the way she's gripping the boards just a little too tight.

Lily Martinez has been paying attention to me.

"So," I say slowly, testing the waters. "Tomorrow night. Dinner. Should we establish some ground rules?"

"Yes. Rule one: You stay on your side of the table. Rule two: You don't speak to me unless it's absolutely necessary. Rule three—"

"Rule three," I interrupt, leaning in close enough that she has to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact. Close enough to smell her perfume, something light and floral that made me want to do very stupid things. "We let them know we are incompatible. I don't want to have to deal wih all of…this.” Her eyes widened slightly.

"Why would we do that?" She bites her lip as though she regretted the second the question left her mouth.

This is one thing that pissed me off about her. She was always hesitating. Everywhere. Even on the ice. It's like…make up your mind already.

"Do you think it's a good idea if we move in together Princess? " I drop my voice lower. "You better keep up the rivalry. Let them incompatible. Unless you want to live with me, Princess. See me walking around in a towel every morning."

I'm expecting her to recoil, to tell me off, to skate away.

Instead, her gaze drops, just for a split second—to my chest, my arms, before snapping back up to my face.

And at that moment, I knew.

She has thought about it. About me.

"You're delusional, but one question though? Is there a reason why you hate me so much?” I'm tongue tied, staring at her as my mind goes blank.

Why do I hate her? For some reason, the answer doesn't come to me.

“You're not that important.” I finally say, shrugging my shoulders.

“The feeling is mutual.” She says, but her voice isn't quite steady. "I'll play along with your little plan, but only because I want this engagement to fail. Not because I care about seeing you in a towel."

"Sure, Princess. Whatever you need to tell yourself."

She shoves off the boards, skating backward. "Tomorrow night. Seven pm. Don't be late."

"Wouldn't miss it."

She turns and glides away, and I watch the way her skirt floats around her thighs, the way her ponytail swings with each movement.

My phone buzzes. A text from an unknown number.

Unknown: “And Dane? That little smirk you do when you think you've won an argument? Yeah. Its not cute.”

I look up sharply. She's across the rink now, back to her coach, but as I watch, she glances over her shoulder at me.

Even from this distance, I can see her smile.

Then she launches into another jump, and I'm left standing at the boards, wondering what the hell I've just gotten myself into.