Page 57 of No Pucks

He still has the fucking impossible math problem look. Fucking jocks. “You don’t want to be better than your father?”

“I don’t plan on going pro.”

His mouth falls open like I’ve just confessed to murder.

“Don’t fucking say it.” I try to shove past him, but since he has about fifty pounds on me, he doesn’t move even an inch.

“But Logan.”

I hold up a hand. “I get what you think, but every day, I see my father and know I don’t want that. Hell,” I gesture at him. “I don’t want to be bitter and unhappy either. I don’t need the money. I don’t want the fame. I’m perfectly happy without those things. I’ll miss the game, but I don’t need to over-complicate my life and watch it go to shit.” I don’t give Anthony time to reply. I know he’d give anything to go back to professional hockey, so my feelings are an insult. But he’s not going to change my mind. “We have to go. We’ve already been in here way too long, and I’m going to be fucking asked about it.”

He steps aside and lets me out of the room.

The entire team is staring at me when I come around the corner.

Fucking great.

SEVENTEEN

ANTHONY

Iput Logan in for the second period with both Ridgeways and he scores two goals, tying us. He almost gets a hat-trick in the third, but center Ridgeway misses him wide open in a man up play and gets him the puck way too slowly, giving the goalie enough time to recenter.

We lose the game 3-2, and we absolutely shouldn’t have. The Griffins aren’t that great of a team and should have been an easy first win.

I give them my losing speech but keep it short. It’s late and we’re flying back early. I get stopped by the other coach, an old teammate of mine, and we chat for a few before I tell him I need to get my team back to the hotel.

I back into the locker room and nearly run into Logan and his father. The hair on the back of my neck raises, but they don’t notice me.

“Maybe you’d be worth something if you did what I told you to,” Cox Sr. barks at Logan.

What the fuck is he even doing here? No parents should be down here. Fucking special treatment is what this is, and it pisses me off.

“You coached me for how long? What makes you think another four years would make me any better?”

“You’ve never wanted it bad enough, so you’ve never taken it seriously,” Cox Sr. spews, and Logan visibly winces.

I can only assume it’s because I said something similar not even two hours ago. I hate myself a little in that moment, even knowing I didn’t mean it like his father.

“Why are you even here? I didn’t ask you to come.” All the life is gone out of Logan’s eyes. It makes me want to punch his father in the face.

“It was clearly a mistake on my part. I had blinders on when it came to you.”

Rage flickers in Logan’s eyes, but he quickly masks it, returning to his nonplussed attitude. “I’m glad to hear that. I’m sure it’s a reasonable expectation that you’ll leave me the fuck alone now?” He might be playing this off like a joke, but I’m enraged.

Cox Sr. narrows his eyes. “You’re so disappointing?—”

I cut him off. “Cox, you need to change. The bus is about to leave. I’m sure you can finish this later.”

Both of them turn towards me, noticing I’m there for the first time.

Amusement flickers in Logan’s eyes, but only for a second. “I’ll hurry up. Sorry.”

Cox Sr. sneers as Logan walks to the bench.

“Parents can’t be down here,” I say a little gleefully, returning his glare.

He huffs but leaves.

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