Page 92 of The Fine Line
Now, my new captain.
“Holt,” I mutter. Then clear my throat. “Holt! Good to see you.”
I step around Coach, hand extended.
Holt rises slowly, keeping eye contact as he grabs my hand and damn near crushes it. I bite the inside of my cheek.
When I got drafted by Chicago, I couldn’t believe it. My first thought was:I don’t deserve this.I didn’t think I’d get drafted at all. But once it sank in, reality followed. And my second thought was:What did I do to deserve this?
Because playing for Chicago meant playingwith him.
And now, thanks to the recent captain retirement, it means playingforhim.
I knew this reunion was coming.
But I didn’t know it would be today.
How generous of him.
“Sutton,” he nods, looking at me like I’m something stuck to the bottom of his shoe.
“I was glad to hear you and Brendan are old friends,” Coach Patrick says.
“Yeah, something like that.”
“It’s a big transition joining the NHL. Not everyone makes it. So having a familiar face around never hurts.”
You sure about that?
“Especially as your captain.”
“Dream come true, Coach. Holt knows how fond of his face I am.” I pat his arm. Play nice.
Coach’s phone starts ringing. “My apologies, boys. I need to take this. Take a minute to get reacquainted and I’ll be right back.”
“So what’s your skincare routine looking like these days, Holt? I wasn’t lying about your face. What are you using? You’re glowing?—”
“Sutton—”
“Is it the blood of your enemies? Or perhaps the tears of women? No, I’ve got it. You’re exfoliating, aren’t you?—”
He slams a hand on the table and shoots to his feet.
I don’t even flinch. Just smirk up at him.
“Let me give you some advice,” he growls. “Life here’ll be a lot easier for you the quicker you learn to talk less. You can keep that shit-eating grin all day for all I care, but running your mouth isn’t going to work around here like it has for you in the past.”
“I think you’re strongly underestimating what my mouth is capable of.”
He laughs darkly. “I told you I’d knock you down a peg one day. Guess what? Today’s that day. You may have made it to the big leagues, kid. But I’m your daddy now.”
“You’re—”
He lifts a hand. “Wait, Sutton—You know what? I’m sorry.”
I raise my brows.
“I forgot. You probably need a reminder what that is—since yours is too ashamed of you to act like one.”
