Page 6 of The Save

"And you currently have?—”

“A's and B's. And . . . two barely C’s."

I considered that for a moment. "Okay. That's not bad at all. We can totally work with that. Which classes?"

"Applied math and bio."

"Easy. What about you?"

Axel's lips pulled into a thin line. "I've got two C's, in Calc and one of my engineering classes." He paused a moment. "And one D." His voice was so low I could barely distinguish the words.

I tried not to make him feel more ashamed than he already was. "Which class is that in?"

"Art history."

I pursed my lips to keep from smiling. "You signed up for art history?"

"It was one of the options," he mumbled.

"Okay." I analyzed the next steps. I could just schedule a time with them to study, but that wouldn't work for me. I needed this to be on the books. "I'll help you guys, and I know we can get your grades up if you're willing to work. But I think if you talk with your professors and coaches, we could set something up so you don't have to miss any practices or game?—"

"There's no way Coach Wilson will do that," Axel cut in. "He's a hard-ass."

I worked to mask my surprise.Chase was a hard-ass?That was the funniest thing I’d heard all week. Chase Wilson was the kid who hit the record for most classes ditched in grade eleven, and he didn’t have grade twelve to outdo himself because he was long gone by then. I didn’t even know if he finished high school, though it didn’t matter if he’d graduated with his bachelor’s degree.

I nodded. “I’ll talk to him. See what we can figure out.”

Rory’s face lit up. “Maddie girl.” He moved in for a hug, throwing his arms around me. “You’re the best.”

I had to admit. Hugs from guys on the Outlaws hockey team felt like snuggling in a warm blanket, and I didn’t hate it. It wasn’t until they’d started up the stairs that I realized what I’d agreed to.

I was going to have to talk to Chase again.

_____

I stood in the hall the next morning outside of the small office next to the weight room on the main floor of the ice arena, now dubbed the Douglas Dome since they refinished the roof last month. The name seemed to be starting to catch on.

I took weight lifting my freshman year and learned how to do real squats for the first time. Something I should’ve taken more seriously in high school when I was actually playing sports.

I wasn't sure if Chase—Coach Wilson. Damn it, I was going to have to get used to that—was in this office, but it was my best guess. Also safer than running into him after a game or practiceor something where the other players would see us. Or where I might be too casual like I'd been at Ranchman's and blurt out how I used to have a crush on him in high school. Not my best moment.

I closed my eyes and inhaled through my nose. It didn't matter. That was then, this was now, and there was no reason to be on edge. All of the things that were thigh-achingly attractive to me when I was fourteen didn't hold water now. Back then, I wanted cool. But these days? I wanted driven. Smart. Financially secure. Chase and I were on different paths, and I could hold my own.

I straightened and walked forward, pushing through the door and stepping into the small reception area. A woman with a grey bob and glasses looked up. "Can I help you?"

I smiled. "I need to speak with Coach Wilson. It's about a compliance issue for the Outlaws."

The receptionist nodded, then stood from her chair with a squeak. Her skirt stretched over her hips and the slit showed the tops of her knee high socks. My heart thudded as she rounded the corner and disappeared from view. Suddenly, the idea of seeing Chase—of showing up here unannounced—seemed like the worst error in judgment. I could've sent him an email. I could've met with Coach Blakely instead of?—

"He's out for lunch, can I leave him a message?" The receptionist had reappeared in front of me without me noticing.

"Mmhm. Sure." I waited for her to pull out a pad of paper and a pen. "I'm Madelyn Taylor." I gave my full name. Seemed more professional. Less like I'd ogled sixteen-year-old Coach Wilson as he exited my washroom in only a towel. "I wanted to discuss a tutoring program for the players who?—"

"Tutoring?"

I spun at the sound of a male voice behind me. A male voice I recognized. Chase stood there, leaning against the open office door, his hand wrapped around the handle.

Chapter

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