Fake Dating My Ex's Hockey Star Brother (Maya Scott) novel Chapter 98

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KATY’S POV

I tuck myself deeper into the stiff plastic seat, pulling my jacket closer as the cold from the rink crawls up my legs. Being on the away team’s side of the arena feels strange, especially with how the Red Devils, if that’s what they call themselves, are ready to boo anything that isn’t wearing their colors.

I keep glancing at the tunnel even though I know it’ll take a few more minutes before Braydon and his guys skate out. The home crowd is already chanting, trying to get in our player’s heads before they even appear.

“I hope we beat these guys.” Lucy mutters beside me, shooting a sharp look at a girl who’s been staring at us for what feels like forever. The girl is practically sitting across from us, yet somehow she manages to keep her eyes glued to us the entire time.

“Who is that?” I ask Lucy, who seems even sourer than I am. I heard her telling Luke before the game that he shouldn’t bother asking for her i********: if he doesn’t win and if that isn’t hostile motivation, I don’t know what is.

“From what I’ve heard, she’s Gareth’s girlfriend,” Lucy says. “Still can’t believe someone is actually dating that dude.”

“Beats me,” I mutter, shaking my head. The truth is that none of this is really my scene but I just wish she’d stop staring. I don’t even know her name, but she already seems to have an imaginary beef with me. When Braydon wins tonight, though, I’ll be able to stare her down all I want.

The jumbo screen lights up with highlights of each player and it’s accompanied by deafening cheers. My hands instinctively press between my knees, trying to steady the nervous jitter building in my chest. It’s ridiculous but I’m probably more anxious than Braydon himself. But can you really blame me?

After that chaotic encounter with Gareth and his crew, after just trying to eat my meal in peace, I may have seriously underestimated how messy tonight could get.

And now, his threat hangs over everything and I know he will do everything in his power to win.

And if that isn’t enough, I’m literally wearing Braydon’s jersey. I packed it as a surprise, but right now it feels like I’m a flashy rabbit in the middle of a hunting ground. I mean, I’m just a girl supporting her boyfriend, what’s with all this hostility?

The music dips low, then swells again, sending a hum rolling through the seats as the announcer starts calling the starting lineups for the home team. I don’t clap and I even roll my eyes. They started this whole bad energy and I can definitely participate. And besides, no one claps for Braydon and our guys, so I’ve saved my loyalty for what actually matters.

Then the tunnel gates swing open, and our team skates onto the ice. The roar hits me all at once and it’s mostly boos, and a few whistles from the opposite side.

My eyes immediately find Braydon in his gold jersey with red stripes, shoulders squared like he’s ready to take on the entire arena by himself. He glides with that effortless confidence that made me fall for him in the first place. And it hits me more than ever that he’s made for this game. It’s in his blood and, not gonna lie, he looks so hot too.

He does a quick lap, head down and focused, but the moment he reaches center ice, he lifts his gaze and scans the stands. And his eyes find me.

Even over the roar of the crowd, I catch a tiny smirk and the lift of his hand in a wave. My chest tightens, and I can’t help smiling. I stand, leaning a little over the railing to blow him kisses.

“You’ve got to win!!!” Ngozi’s voice cracks through behind me and I flinch, my stomach doing a little flip. “Show them who’s boss!”

“Yes!” I call back, letting myself join in. “You’re the best!!”

Braydon waves at me again before turning to talk to Martin. I wave at Justin too and he gives me a quick thumbs-up. Slowly, the team moves into their positions, gliding across the ice.

The referee glides in, holding the black rubber disk carefully between his fingers. I lean back into my seat, my heart picking up again. This moment, right before the puck drops is always the hardest. There’s a suspended beat of silence, a collective inhale from the crowd, as if the entire arena is holding its breath.

Then the whistle blows, and the game is officially on.

Braydon’s stick flashes down, beating Gareth cleanly. He chips the puck back to the

defenseman, moving it up the ice. I can feel the energy in the arena spike as the players start settling into the rhythm of the game.

The first five minutes are rough. The Devils are aggressive, leaning into our guys at every chance, trying to throw them off their speed. Our team matches it where they can, but it’s obvious that the Devils are treating this like a test of wills, not skills.