Sleet Banshee by S.J. Tilly
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
MEGHAN
“Y
ou guys are such idiots. How did I let you talk me into this?”
Miles, my oldest brother, throws one arm around my shoulder and ruffles my hair with the other. “Because you love us.”
I swat at his hand - “Get off me, Beast!”
He releases me and steps back, but Max - my next-oldest brother - steps up to my other side. Before he can do the same thing, I elbow him in the ribs.
“Seriously, you guys are the fucking worst!” I say.
“Hey! I’m behaving.” This comes from Marvin, the baby of the family. “As promised," he says, pointedly looking at our brothers.
He may be the youngest, but the three of them have pretty much the same stats. They’re all six feet tall. They all have medium length, medium brown hair, hazel eyes, and perfect grins. They look just like our dad, while I look just like our mom.
“Thanks, Marv. That’s why you’re my favorite.”
Miles and Max scoff.
“That’s also why he’s buying,” Max says.
“Yeah, I don’t think so. I’m only paying for Meg. You jackasses can buy your own beer.” Marvin pushes me ahead of him in line.
As much as I pretend to be annoyed, I’m actually really excited that they’re at the Sleet game with me.
Being fans, they come whenever they can. But ever since Katelyn met Jackson they’ve been bugging me to get tickets. They all have jobs and could buy their own damn tickets. I think it’s the idea of being a guest of the team that has them so jacked.
They stopped bugging me about coming to a game after my little confession about the Ash LeBlanc a few weeks ago. I think they were hung up between being starstruck that I’d hooked up with one of their favorite players, and disgusted that one of their favorite players slept with their sister. Not to mention, wary of dealing with my emotions.
We haven’t talked about it since, but my guess is that sweet baby Marv will be the one to crack and ask me about it sometime tonight.
Collecting our beers and brats, we file down the stairway to our seats. I’m not sure if it was Katelyn or Izzy who scored these amazing tickets, but we’re in the second row, near the Sleet home goal. The teams switch sides each period, so it will suck for the second period when Sebastian is guarding at the far end of the ice. But I’ll get to drool over him for two thirds of the game. Not bad.
“Holy Hell,” Max says as he drops into a seat.
I didn’t tell them where we’d be sitting.
Marv’s on my right, at the end of our row, and closest to the goal. Since he played goalie, he seems the most excited about our seat placement. Max is on my other side, and Miles is next to him.
The girls show up just after we sit down. Steph is sitting with her mom tonight, since Mary’s friend cancelled, so it’s just Izzy and Katelyn. Since Katelyn knows my brothers, she sits next to Miles. I give a quick round of introductions to Izzy. My brothers all know she’s taken, so they keep their greetings appropriate.
I’m bringing my beer up to my lips when Max lets out a loud whistle, making me jump.
“The fuck? You almost made me spill!” I glare at him.
“Almost doesn’t count," he replies, and I roll my eyes. That’s one of our dad’s favorite sayings.
Max stands and whistles again.
I tug on his jeans. “Sit down, you moron.”
He gestures, like maybe I didn’t see the players skating onto the ice. “What? I’m just cheering on our boys.”
“Cheer during the game like a normal human. Not the freaking warm up.” I tug on his jeans again.
“Keep tugging, Megs, and we’ll end up on ESPN for flashing the arena.” He lets out another loud whistle.
“Dude - ” Miles says, from Max’s other side. “Are you going commando?”
“Ahh, what?!” I yank my hand back.
Max shrugs as he finally drops back down into his seat. “Laundry day came and went.”
“You’re such a slob.” I shudder.
“Takes one to know one. I remember what your room used to look like.”
I sigh. “Shut up and go back to whistling.”
Max says something to Miles, but I don’t catch it. I’m too distracted by the appearance of the #1 jersey on the ice.
Sebastian.
I watch him skate around for a minute before he drops down to do some stretches. I know it’s what all goalies do to warm up, but it’s hard to watch while I’m sitting with my brothers.
Sebastian’s knees are spread on the ice, weight supported by his hands, hips moving front to back, side to side. I want to jump the boards and splay myself out beneath him. In our few times together, I’ve never gotten under him. And I really want to change that.
My thighs clench of their own volition.
Marvin nudges my elbow.
I blink at him. “Huh?”
“I asked, uh, if you’ve seen Ash. Since, you know, that um, talk we had?”
I stifle a laugh at his discomfort, but I note that the other brothers have gone quiet.
They really were nice to me about the whole thing, so I figure I owe them an answer.
“Umm, yeah. A few times.”
Then, unbidden, my mind flashes to the museum and I blush.
A round of groans goes up around me.
“Come on, Megs,” Max whines. “We didn’t need fucking details.”
I throw my hands up, keeping my eyes forward. “I didn’t say anything!”
Max reaches behind me to shove Marv’s shoulder. “How does it feel to be wearing our sister’s boyfriend’s jersey?” he jokes.
I cross my arms. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
I glance over and see Marv frowning down at the giant 1 on the front of his jersey. I can’t help it, this time I laugh.
Marvin makes a face at me, then his eyebrows shoot up. “Wait, does that mean we can go down to the locker room? Meet some of the guys?” He gives me the most hopeful look. “Maybe you can introduce me to Sebastian.”
“Yeah,” Max says. “If you’re not dating Sebastian, then maybe Marv has a shot.”
“Like you’re one to talk, Mrs. Wilder,” Marv leans over me to snap at Max, who is sporting a Jackson Wilder jersey.
I ignore their jabs. “If you want to go downstairs, you’ll have to ask those two.” I toss a thumb in Katelyn and Izzy’s direction.
Katelyn leans forward, grinning. “Consider it done!”
Of course she’s listening to us.
The boys nearly fall out of their seats telling her how amazing she is. They really are just overgrown children.
Taking a gulp of my beer, I sit back and get ready to enjoy the game.
