The arena emptied in slow waves.
First the casual fans, streaming toward exits before the final buzzer stopped echoing. Then the die-hards, lingering to dissect plays and debate calls. Finally the staff, methodically breaking down the controlled chaos of game night into something manageable for tomorrow's cleanup crew.
I stayed at the medical station longer than necessary, organizing supplies that were already organized, checking inventory I'd checked twice before. Anything to delay the inevitable—the conversation I'd seen building in Nathan's eyes when he'd found me in that corridor with Xavier.
When I finally gathered my things and headed toward the exit, I knew I wouldn't make it.
Nathan was waiting in the corridor outside the locker room, freshly showered, street clothes replacing his gear. His jaw was set with the particular determination that meant he'd been rehearsing what he wanted to say, and nothing short of a natural disaster would stop him from saying it.
"We need to talk." He fell into step beside me, his tone deceptively calm. "About your friend from intermission."
"Nathan…"
"The doctor who seemed very comfortable with you. Very close." He kept his eyes forward, but I could feel the weight of his attention. "The one who brought you coffee. Who sat pressed against you in the stands. Who followed you into an empty hallway during a hockey game he supposedly came to watch."
Each observation landed with precision, building a case I couldn't refute.
"Xavier is a colleague." The deflection felt thin even as I said it. "He works at St. Caroline's. He's developed an interest in hockey recently, and he knew I'd be here, so he stopped by."
"An interest in hockey." Nathan's voice carried the particular skepticism of someone who'd heard too many excuses from too many people. "He didn't look at the ice once, Summer. He looked at you. Constantly."
I kept walking, kept my expression neutral, kept pretending this conversation wasn't dismantling months of careful secrecy.
"If something's going on with your boss," Nathan said quietly, his tone shifting from interrogation to something gentler, "you can tell me. I'm not going to judge. I just want to make sure you're okay."
The lie tasted bitter on my tongue, but I told it anyway.
"Nothing's going on. He's just… We work together, we've become friendly, that's all. If there was anything more, you'd be the first to know."
Nathan studied my face for a long moment, searching for cracks in my composure. I held his gaze without flinching, drawing on years of practice at hiding pieces of myself from the people who loved me most.
Finally, his posture relaxed. Not convinced—I could see the doubt still lingering in the set of his shoulders—but willing to let it go. For now.
"Okay." He exhaled, the protective brother receding to make room for the regular one. "Just... be careful, yeah? Hospital politics are complicated enough without adding personal stuff to the mix."
"I know." Relief loosened something in my chest. "I'm always careful."
The tension dissolved as we walked, replaced by the familiar warmth of sibling territory. Nathan pulled out his phone, scrolling through a thread of messages with a grimace.
"Mom's been texting again. About the family trip."
He turned the screen toward me, showing a wall of text punctuated by excessive emojis.
"She wants to know if you're bringing anyone, if we have dietary restrictions she should plan around, and whether we think Aunt Carol will behave herself this year."
"Aunt Carol never behaves herself. That's her whole thing."
"That's what I said." He pocketed the phone, shaking his head. "Also, she's experimenting with casseroles again. Something about a 'revolutionary' cream of mushroom technique she saw on Pinterest."
I groaned. "The last revolutionary technique gave everyone food poisoning."
"I've already told Madison to eat before we arrive. Just in case."
"Speaking of Madison..." I nudged his shoulder with mine, grateful for the shift to safer ground. "Mom's been treating her like a daughter-in-law for months now. Any chance you're planning to make that official?"
Nathan's expression did something complicated—embarrassment and warmth and something private flickering behind his eyes. "Maybe. Eventually. When the timing's right."
"Nathan Reid, confirmed romantic." I grinned at his discomfort. "I'm telling everyone."
"You're the worst."
"I'm the best and you know it."
We'd almost reached the main exit when footsteps approached from behind us—quick, purposeful, accompanied by the particular energy of someone who'd been looking for an opportunity.
"Hey, Captain." Jay's voice carried the easy warmth he used with Nathan, but when his gaze found me, something sharper flickered beneath. "Summer. Didn't expect to see you two together."
He'd showered since the game, his hair still damp and curling slightly at the edges. His bag was slung over one shoulder, and he looked between us with curiosity that seemed almost performative—too casual, too deliberate.
"You two seem close," he observed, something in his tone I couldn't quite read. "Planning trips, meeting families. Should I be jealous?"
The question was directed at me, but Nathan answered first.
"Jealous of what?" Genuine confusion colored his voice. "We're talking about mom's cooking. Why would that make you jealous?"
Jay's brow furrowed. "I thought Summer was meeting…" He stopped, looked at me, then back at Nathan. "Wait. When did Summer get close enough to your family to be discussing trips with your mother?"
The confusion in Nathan's face transformed into disbelief.
"Dude." He laughed—short, incredulous. "It would be pretty difficult for Summer not to know my mother, considering we share the same one."
Jay went completely still.
The teasing grin vanished, replaced by something stunned and recalculating. His eyes found mine and held there, and I watched the pieces rearranging behind them—every interaction reframing, every conversation taking on new meaning.
The morning runs where I'd mentioned my protective brother. The equipment room where I'd accused him of being engaged. The park bench where I'd talked about my father leaving.
"She's your sister?" The words came out hollow. "Summer is your sister?"
"Half-sister, technically. Different fathers, same mother." Nathan's impatience was audible. "I've mentioned her approximately a thousand times over the years, Jay. Summer. My sister. The one I'm overprotective about. Ring any bells?"
Jay's mouth opened, closed, opened again. No words came out.
I stood frozen, watching him piece together the truth I'd kept hidden. The girl from high school—Nathan's sister, the one everyone thought he was dating—had been me all along. The invisible girl he'd walked past a thousand times. The woman he'd been pursuing for weeks.
The same person.
Nathan's attention sharpened as he watched Jay's reaction. His expression shifted from confusion to something colder, more assessing.
"Is that a problem?" The protective edge had returned to his voice. "You seem pretty shocked for someone who supposedly just met her at the hospital."
"I… no, I just—" Jay struggled to recover, his usual charm failing him completely. "I didn't realize, never put it together."
"Uh-huh." Nathan's eyes narrowed. "Speaking of putting things together—why have you been showing up at the medical office so much lately? Another mysterious injury? Another excuse to have my sister check your shoulder, your wrist, your ego?"
The corridor temperature seemed to drop several degrees.
"Nathan—" I started.
"We need to have a talk." Nathan's voice had gone cold, the captain emerging to handle a situation that had suddenly become much more complicated. "A serious one. About boundaries and expectations and what happens to teammates who forget whose family they're messing with."
He placed a hand on Jay's shoulder—friendly on the surface, firm underneath—and began steering him toward the far end of the corridor. Jay didn't resist, still too stunned to mount a defense.
But he glanced back once.
His eyes found mine across the growing distance, and the expression on his face made my heart stutter—confusion and realization and something that looked almost like wonder. Like he was seeing me for the first time, even though he'd been looking at me for weeks.
Then they disappeared around the corner, and I was left standing alone in the emptying corridor.
My heart pounded against my ribs. My secrets, so carefully compartmentalized, were beginning to collide—Xavier and Jay and Nathan, all of them circling closer to truths I wasn't ready to reveal.
How much longer could I keep the pieces from crashing together?
How much longer before everything I'd built came tumbling down?
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