When he’d learned I’d bought a condo here, he outbid the buyer of this apartment by nearly a hundred grand. While our mother thought it was sweet for Troy to want to be close to me, I couldn’t have been more agitated.

“Troy. Bro, you in here?” I stepped down the single entry step into the living area.

I heard a groan from the den and walked down the hall until I reached it, finding him sprawled out on the small sofa staring at the television screen. Last night’s post game talk show was playing.

“What’s going on man?” I asked, ignoring what was clearly on replay.

He barely glanced in my direction. “Heard you put on quite a show last night.” He eyed my clothes head to toe.

More eventful than yours on the ice.

I cringed at my unspoken comment.

This wasn’t the time for our usual competitive brawls. His eyes were red and he looked like he hadn’t slept in days even though it was only last night that he’d blown the season starter. My twin’s eyes were back on the screen before I could think of a response.

What I should have said was, ‘yeah, another consequence of your actions I had to take on your behalf, you dipshit.’

But Harper’s name wouldn’t be mentioned—especially not the vendetta she clearly still had against him. Hopefully last night got something out of her system. Girl deserved some closure.

My lips perked when I thought of her flushed features last night when I was about to take off my boxers.

“How could I have missed those shots?”

My eyes snapped back to the present with my brother shaking his head, watching his replay.

“You’re being too hard on yourself. You had an off night.”

As if needing to prove something, Troy snatched his tablet off the side table. “The Brooklyn Lines—this morning. Is Troy Hartman facing a Sophomore Slump?”

Ouch. Those are the last two words you wanted to hear kicking off your second season in any sport.

“Don’t pay any attention—they’re just reporters looking for a headline.”

My brother looked up at me. His voice was rough and dry when he spoke. “What if it’s true?”

I sighed. This wasn’t heading anywhere good. Moving from the doorframe, I sat next to him. “It was one game.”

He was quiet. And we both knew why. This was how Troy always played—mediocre. The adrenaline of rookie year playing in the pro’s wore off and now Troy was playing how he always played. Minors level.

No place in the majors.

“Do you think I could play as good as I was last season?”

“Why the hell not?”

Troy shook his head.