CAPTAIN NIKO

JEREMY'S P.O.V

“That's not going to happen. I'm not moving out to live with some guy I don't even know.”

“Don't be difficult, Jeremy. You both will get along… he was nice enough to take you to the hospital—”

My phone buzzed on the bed, cutting her off. I scrambled to grab it. My eyes widened as I read the high-priority notification flashing on the screen.

“Oh, shit.”

“What's wrong?” Dani asked, leaning forward.

“We have an emergency team meeting with Coach this morning,” I panicked, my headache forgotten as adrenaline flooded my system.

“I have to go. Right now.”

“Now? But you just got back from the hospital!” Mum protested.

“Mum, I'm fine, I promise. Can someone please call me a cab?” I begged, desperately grabbing whatever gear and clothes I could find scattered around the room.

“On it,” Dani announced, thumbs flying across the screen.

***

I shoved the doors open and hurried into the locker room, interrupting the emergency meeting that had already begun.

Coach stopped speaking, and all eyes turned on me. “You’re late, Jacobson,” he roared, voice booming off the concrete walls.

“I know. I'm sorry—”

“Half these guys spent the whole night partying, and they still got here on time. You didn't play, you didn't party, so what’s your fucking excuse?”

My pulse throbbed, and my hands curled to tight fists. Among the line-up of teammates, I found Axel standing at the far end, nearest to Coach. His eyes met mine, but it barely lasted a second before he looked away.

“You sat on the bench all night long doing nothing, yet you somehow always manage to be late!” Coach continued to berate me. “Do you not take Westbrook Hockey seriously? Are we a joke to you?”

“It won't happen again, Coach,” I mumbled, staring at the floor.

He chuckled evily, shaking his head. "It won't."

I moved quickly, keeping my head down as I slipped into the line-up.

Coach rolled up his sleeves, clearing his throat to regain the room's attention.

“As I was saying before Jacobson walked in, a new member will be joining our roster effective immediately. He's a transfer student from Bronx University, and the former captain of the Bronx ice hockey team.”

A wave of astonished murmurs rippled through the line. The guys exchanged surprised looks, their expressions shifting dramatically as the weight of the news sank in. I caught fragments of their whispered speculation all around me.

“Wait, a former captain?”

“Bronx? As in Bronx University?”

“They made it all the way to the nationals last season.”

“Why the hell would someone like that transfer here?”

“Is he replacing Axel?”

The more they whispered, the more restless the line became.

Axel didn't join in.

Our captain stood perfectly still, his arms folded across his chest as his eyes remained fixed on Coach. The initial surprise was gone from his face, replaced by tension. His gaze briefly flicked towards the locker room entrance before returning to the front.

“Archer took a year off from hockey and the Bronx,” Coach explained, pacing the floor. “He’s back now, and he wants a fresh start here at Westbrook. You’ve all played against him. He’s won countless games for the Bronx, so this is a massive opportunity for our team to learn from a player like him. When he arrives, I expect all of you to make him feel welcome. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Coach,” the team chanted in unison—everyone except Axel.

Axel had spent years establishing himself as the team's best player and captain. Now, someone with a reputation almost as impressive as his was walking into Westbrook. And judging by the look on Axel's face, he had already decided he wasn't going to let the newcomer take his place.

“When does he start?” someone from the back called out.

“Today.”

The door swung open. A guy walked in.

He had blond hair that fell loosely over his forehead and warm brown eyes. He wasn't particularly big or intimidating. In fact, he was only slightly taller than me, with a build that was almost in the same weight class as mine.

I frowned. Was this him? The new transfer?

I looked around, expecting some kind of reaction from the others.

Nobody seemed surprised. A few barely even glanced at him before turning their attention back to Coach, as though the guy had walked into this room a hundred times before.

“That's not him, right?” I asked the guy standing nearest to me.

The room erupted in laughter, causing my face to go red in embarrassment.

The guy beside me doubled over, laughing into his fist, while a few others exchanged amused looks like I’d just said the most ridiculous thing they'd heard all day.

“What?” I demanded, looking around at them.

Even Coach was struggling to hide his amusement.

“You really thought he was the new transfer?” someone called from the other side of the line.

“Be quiet, everyone,” Coach warned in a hardened tone. “One more word from anyone, and you'll be running laps for the next hour.”

That seemed to kill the laughing.

Coach turned to me. “Oh no, Jacobson. This is definitely not the former hockey captain of Bronx University.”

“Then who is he?”

Before Coach could utter another word, the door opened again.

All heads turned, and all eyes moved towards the opened door.

A tall, imposing figure stepped through, dressed in black athletic gear with a dark hood pulled low over his head. The entire room fell still as he stood there, his powerful aura preceding him and effortlessly commanding everyone's attention.

Coach's expression brightened. “Perfect timing.”

The newcomer walked right past me, and a sudden breeze caught a whiff of his scent. That striking, undeniable scent—smoky wood, amber, clean, warm, and unmistakably masculine.

My eyes widened. My stomach plummeted into a bottomless pit as the memories of last night rushed back in a violent wave. His warm, comforting hands holding me in the car. His watchful presence at the hospital, enduring a sleepless night all because of me.

My stranger from last night.

It couldn't be.

He reached up, grabbing the edge of his hood and pulling it back to reveal himself. He had slightly tousled dark hair, piercing hazel eyes, and a razor-sharp jawline. His full, lips were pierced and a tiny dimple set into his left cheek, deepening each time his jaw flexed.

He looked right at me blankly, before the faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. He knew.

Coach stepped forward, clapping a hand on his shoulder to introduce him to the room.

“Former hockey captain at Bronx University, and your newest teammate—Niko Archer.”

My stranger from last night.

The elite new transfer captain.

And soon… my fucking step-brother.

“If he's the new transfer...” someone from the line said, pointing towards Niko, “then who's that?”

They gestured towards the blond guy who had walked in first. The locker room went dead silent. Coach’s eyes slowly fell on me, giving me ‘that’ look once again.

“That's your replacement, Jacobson… you're off my team.”