Page 88 of Must Love Dogs… and Hockey

“What the fuck?” I’m still standing, staring at Coach.

He looks up at me and scowls. “You were on the ice for that travesty. Sit your ass down.”

I gape. I swallow.

JBo looks up at me from the bench. He saw it too, but he’s giving me a subtle headshake, telling me with his eyes to sit down and shut up.

I’m shaking. My face burns and my back teeth grind together. It takes every molecule of self-restraint I have to sit on the bench. My leg bounces and sweat pours off me.

What the fuck? What the fucking fuck?

My mind is buzzing, I can barely focus on the game. I can’t believe that happened. Maybe I saw it wrong. Maybe I heard it wrong.

I didn’t. It happened.

Somehow I get through the rest of the game. We win, three–one. Everyone’s all smiles and backslaps as we leave the ice and tramp back to the dressing room. Even Coach. I want to punch him in his ugly grin.

He stands in his suit in the dressing room as we all sit, sweating, in stalls. “Great win, guys,” he says. “That’s the kind of play I want to see. Every game. Every shift. Other than that goddamn turnover…” he shoots Jammer a narrow-eyed look. “Don’t play like that again.”

I don’t know what to do. My insides are writhing to the point I’m afraid I might puke.

I look over at Jammer. His mouth is a thin line, his eyes downcast as he yanks his skate laces.

Do I say something? Here? Should I talk to Coach on his own? Do nothing?

I feel it like a fist in my gut. Doing nothing is not an option. Not this time.

I stand up. “You called Jammer a racial slur.”

The room goes dead silent, including the trainers and the equipment guys.

Coach’s face doesn’t change. He regards me with an impassive expression. “Not your business, Easton. Jamal can take it up with me if he wants.”

“I’m taking it up with you. That was racist.”

“I’m not a racist!” Coach’s face reddens.

“That’s not what I said.” I keep my voice calm. “I don’t think language like that has a place here. And…you physically abused him.”

Coach says nothing, just getting redder. “We’ll discuss this later.” He stomps out of the dressing room.

I close my eyes and sit back down. Yep, I’m pretty sure my career is over.

It was a good run.

I open my eyes and see Jammer looking at me. He gives me a small smile and a nod. My gaze sweeps around the rest of the room and Wendy starts clapping. Then Jammer. Then everyone is clapping.

Heat washes down through me. My heart feels like it’s going to explode out of my chest. I swallow, my throat thick, and wave my hands. “Stop, stop.”

I rub my mouth and resume undressing.

I keep my head up as I board the bus. Coach is already there along with our assistant coach, seated at the front of the bus, and I move past them to swing into a seat. Cookie joins me.

“See,” he says. “You have your moments.”

We exchange wry smiles. “I’ll probably never play again. It was nice knowing you.” I say it jokingly, even though I’m terrified it could really be the end of my career.

He shakes his head. “Not gonna happen. You contributed to all three goals tonight.”

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