Page 23 of Play Maker

Jace paled, his formerly red cheeks turning almost ghostly white.

“Then back off,” he warned.

I did just that, pushing away from him, wanting to get as far away as possible.

God, I was stupid. If Coach saw this, he’d kick us both off the team.

“Then shut up about my slapshot,” I countered.

There was nothing wrong with it. Nothing. Okay, maybe it was a bit on the slow side, but I was tired, and I was having an off day, and that was it. I’d hardly slept last night, thinking about today. In fact, I’d hardly slept all week knowing I’d be working with Jace. Add to that, an unexpected voicemail from my brother and I was all but ready to pack my bags and leave school for good. Not that I had anywhere to go. I’d have to stick it out here at Sutton until I graduated or got drafted, whatever came first.

“How can you do better if you can’t take criticism?” Jace huffed.

“Look who’s talking.”

“Hey, if there’s something I can do to improve my game, I’ll do it. I want to be the best.”

“And I don’t?” I scoffed.

He shrugged, giving me a cocky smirk.

“Doesn’t seem like it,” he replied. “But then it’s not for me to say.”

“That’s hilarious considering you have opinions on everything.”

Jace mimed jerking off. Part of me wanted to laugh at his antics, but then I remembered who I was talking to.Don’t be fooled.Think about how he treated Preston.Yup, that got my head cleared up quick.

“Grow up,” I growled.

“The same advice applies,” he bit out. “Your follow-through is weak. Something’s holding you back. What the fuck is it? Thesooner you figure it out, the better you’re going to play. Not that you’ll ever be as good as me, but that goes without saying.”

“You little shit.”

“Not little.” His eyes filled with a mischievous light. “And you know I’m right.”

Was I holding back? I wanted to argue but something in my gut told me his comment wasn’t totally off base. Then I remembered the way Jace took his shot and compared it to mine. Without other players around, I’d tracked every movement of his long body; from his sneaky footwork to the way he geared up to take his shot. How the fuck did he make things look so easy? The guy’s slapshot was perfection and it grated on my already frayed nerves. Why couldn’t I just let it fly like he did? If I had, I’d be scoring a shit ton more than him. The fact that he’d thought the same and said it out loud made me feel crappier than I already did. And I was itching to wipe that smug-ass expression off Jace’s face.

“I don’t see my players practicing.”

We turned to find Coach standing on the other side of the boards, hands on his hips, staring at us with a disappointed expression. When his gaze veered to the right, I knew that he’d spotted my gloves and stick on the ice. Shit.

Jace didn’t say a word and neither did I. Without pause, I skated off and picked up my stuff.

Focus.

Coach stepped back onto the ice, but he didn’t lay into us like I expected. Still, I was so damn thankful for the reprieve. If someone else was around, anyone, I’d be okay to manage my reaction to Jace.

We practiced our passing drills over and over, and before I knew it, Silas and Finn joined us.

All four of us worked hard, only stopping to hydrate, until Coach let us go an hour later.

Instead of taking a shower in the locker room like I normally did, I changed quickly and headed out. No way was I staying around Jace any longer than I needed to be. I’d clean up back at the dorm.

With a quick goodbye to Finn and Silas, I hauled ass out of the rink and the tension in my chest finally eased.

Until my phone buzzed. I reluctantly glanced at the message, hoping it wasn’t my brother.

It was Preston.

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