Page 100 of Wildcat
She smiles. “Coffee and donuts?”
My stomach growls. It’s obviously on board with deep avoidance and more sugar.
“Come on. I can work there. Sam’s friends usually end up here by mid-afternoon anyway.”
She grabs her stuff, and we head out.
“How’s living together going anyway?” It’s been two months since he moved in, and honestly, I didn’t think they’d last this long.
“I don’t have to go to a frat house to see my boyfriend anymore, which is a plus.”
“Yeah, definite upgrade.”
She huffs a laugh. “It’s been an adjustment for sure. I think it’ll bring us closer together, though.” She sighs.
I think she’s in deep avoidance about more than her article.
35
I’LL TAKE CARE OF YOUR STICK
LEO
“Next question,”I grumble into the microphone and glare hard at the reporter who showed up here and thought it’d be a good idea to ask me about my mindset going into tonight's game with the rumors floating around about my association with Coach Miller’s daughter.
I guess she doesn’t even get a name. Not that I want the asshole speaking it.
It’s been a long week with the same tired questions every game.
I get out of the pre-game interview without yelling at anyone—just barely.
“They wouldn’t be doing their job if they didn’t ask,” Ash says in the locker room.
I know he’s trying to calm me and that on some level, he’s right, but it still pisses me off. “Since when did my personal life become any of their business? I came here to play hockey.”
My buddy falls silent. The rest of the guys give me a wide berth. When we take the ice for warmups, I roll my neck and focus. When I move over near the bench to stretch, Coach approaches me.
“Is your head on right?”
I nod, but he sees right through me.
“Take it out on the ice, leave it behind for a few hours, whatever you need to do.” He runs a hand down his tie. “Are we good to go?”
“Yes, sir.” The best way to get everyone to shut up is to skate my ass off tonight. This is my chance to prove all of those assholes wrong.
Seattle is fast. They’ve been on a losing streak, and it’s clear from the start they’re hungry to get a win. I do my best to leave all the drama behind, take it out on the ice like Coach said, and I succeed for a little while too. I’m reading my line mates and we’re getting opportunities.
It’s during a face-off at the beginning of the second period when I see the sign in the crowd.Lohan, My Dad Isn’t the Coach, but I’ll Take Care of Your Stick.
That anger bubbles to the surface, and Seattle’s captain, Ryan Moore (an asshole on and off the ice) sneers as he sees my reaction. “Trouble getting a date, Lohan? Had to resort to fucking your coach’s daughter?”
“How about you worry less about my sex life and more about helping your team out of a five-game slump, huh?”
The puck drops, and I shove him before going after it. My anger fuels me. The better I play, the rowdier the crowd seems to get. Every second I’m off the ice, my frustration vibrates under the surface.
“Let’s keep our heads out there.” Coach claps his hands as my line goes in. It’s a different kind of adrenaline pumping through my veins tonight. I’m feeling reckless and eager to prove that my personal life doesn’t impact the way I play.
I’ve reined it in as long as I can. The speed and energy are making me sloppy. I know it, and I fight to regain control. Not before I get called for elbowing. I start toward the box, and Moore starts mouthing off, asking if we pass Scarlett around after the games. I see red. I get two good hits in before Declan and Maverick pull me back.
