Page 172 of Jaded

“Just give it a try,” I finish.

Coach’s jaw ticks, his teeth grind together. He doesn’t trust Avery—but he’s learned to trust me. I’ve become a lot more reliable over the years.

“I’m staying on as the Zam driver,” I say. “So I’ll be here. Full time, since you guys are winning. And Olli knows him too.”

I press my hands against my knees to stand—

“Wait.” Coach’s deep voice freezes me in my tracks before I can turn away. He runs a hand through his mop of hair. I know what comes next.

There wasn’t just one spot to fill on this team; there were two.

So I cut him off before he makes an offer I’ll have to refuse. “I don’t want a spot. It’s not my dream anymore.”

There. The words seem so right, laid out in the space between us without any room for doubt. They’re the truth, too. He nods; he knew, before either of us walked in here, how the conversation would go. “You sure about this, Taylor?”

“Yeah, Coach. I am.” I tilt the brim of my backwards hat. “I think we both know I belong with the Ice Out.”

To my surprise, Coach Ethan actually smiles. “I agree.”

“You . . . what?”

“I agree. Which is why I’m not recruiting you.” His words echo in the space between us.

“Okay . . .” My voice sounds dry, cracked. Why—when I just told him I was walking away from this team?

“I want to try something a little . . . less conventional.” He doesn’t blink, plows on before I can protest. “I’m not recruiting you, but I’d like to invite Number Forty-Seven to play with us.”

I can only stare. “What?”

“It’s like Olli’s been telling me this whole time.” His mouth curls in a grim smile. “I’ve been treating the Ice Out and the Dingoes like two separate things. But they’re not. The town is the team and the team is the town.”

“You want me and Avery to be the crossovers,” I realize slowly. “Between the town, the Ice Out, and the Dingoes. Avery’s the high school superstar, and I’m the mysterious Ice Out champ. And we’re both Dingoes.”

“Exactly. You’d wear a mask. Nobody would know who you were. You’d stay an Ice Out boy.”

“And the league would go for that?”

Coach shrugs. “They’ll go for whatever’s making them the most money. Bringing fans to the stands. Of course, you'd be compensated too.”

The following silence rings in my ears and in my soul and in my very bones. I walked into this room prepared to reject an offer—yet this is nothing like the one I’d expected.

“Don’t give me an answer yet.” Coach flaps a hand towards the door. “Think about it, get back to me.”

Feeling numb, I stand. Turn. Walk away. In the hall outside his office, I breathe in the stale, sweat-slicked, ice-cracked air, and I think, for the first time in years, I believe in . . . me. In us. In a team.

“Nat?” Olli appears like the damn ghost he is, popping into existence out of the ether to haunt me when I need him most. I’ll never understand how he does that. Maybe I don't need to.

“Hey, Aspen.”

“Coach offered you a spot.” It’s not a question.

“He did.”

“And you didn't take it.” Another non-question.

“I recommended Avery,” I say, because I still haven’t wrapped my head around the second part of Coach’s offer.

“Damn.” Olli blows out a quiet breath and his head tilts up as he meets my gaze. “Honestly, I respect the hell outta that. Avery’s a good kid. And he’s a great player.”

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