Pass, return, circle the net, pull Rowan out of position. Score.
Fuck.
I skated back toward the bench for a line change. Ryder gave me a slap on the shoulder as he followed me through the swinging door. The guys shuffled down the bench, and I ended up perched on the narrow metal seat, right in front of Coach Frankie.
She muttered curses under her breath, the sound barely audible over the hum of the rink, then raised her voice, this time targeting Julian. He’d been stuck on the ice for far too long this shift, and it was obvious. He was a step behind, out of rhythm.
Tonight wasn’t our night. The horn sounded, ending the second period with a merciful finality. We were down by two andstill hadn’t scored. Even I, the guy who always found a way to laugh through a loss, couldn’t muster a smile.
Something was off with Frankie, and we all felt it. Our special teams were falling apart. In the second period, she’d put the second unit out first, and they were scored on almost immediately.
Maybe Griff would take over the power play tonight. We needed it. Badly.
I followed my teammates into the locker room. All three bench coaches were waiting for us, their expressions hard and unreadable. Griff and Frankie could’ve passed as father and daughter. Their Irish copper hair, long faces, and striking green eyes made them almost look like a mirror image of each other. Both had broad shoulders, thick with muscle, their frames built like the rest of us hockey players—lean, tall, and wide, our bodies made to take years of punishment, hoping we could still walk in our old age.
Coach Frankie hung back from the others, her waist-length braid draped over one shoulder as she tightened it, her focus elsewhere. I watched her in silence—women in the locker room were still a rarity for most of us, but she’d never seemed fazed by it. And that… that impressed me. Something that didn’t happen often.
Yet, that night, Frankie didn’t look like herself. Instead, she looked… well, pissed off.
"Hey, Coach," Ian Somner, recently called up from the ECHL, sidled up beside her. "After the game, I could use some one-on-one, you know, to fix my game and all."
The asshole was the only one who’d looked good out there that night. One-on-one, my ass. We had a code: treat Frankie like one of us because shewasone of us. We didn’t need anyone trying to get her into bed or bitching about her being a woman.
Ryder, one of the two guys on the team I trusted completely, tensed beside me. I knew my friend better than I knew myself sometimes. Always had. He was about to do something stupid, but as captain, he couldn’t teach Ian the lesson he needed.
I put a hand on Ryder’s chest and stepped toward Frankie, whose glare was enough to freeze Ian in his tracks.
Before I could reach them, Frankie spoke, her arms crossed over her chest. "Sit your ass down, kid." Her eyes narrowed, hard as steel. "I don’t like liars on my team, and don’t think for one second I don’t know what you’re trying." She stepped toward him, her voice sharp, "You’re new here, so let me explain. You’re a guest on my team. If you don’t want your ass stapled to that bench in the third period, shut your damn mouth."
Her eyes met mine over Ian’s shoulder. "Have something to say, Valentine?”
A smirk spread across my lips as I shook my head. "That about covers it, Coach."
"Good. Then, fucking listen." She turned to the rest of the team, her voice hardening. "Some of what happened out there was my fault. You’ve all had bad games; well, this is mine. But we’re not going to let that drag us down, right?"
Most of us nodded.
"Right?" she yelled.
Damn, she was bossy. "Right!" we chorused, the energy in the room shifting from tension to resolve.
Griff gave us a grim smile, but his eyes still held concern. "Ryder, the floor is yours."
The coaches disappeared into Griff’s office as Ryder stepped to the center of the room, taking control.
"Who are we?" he asked quietly.
"The Guardians!" I yelled before realizing the rest of the team hadn’t joined in. They laughed. Nothing new. If hockey teams had a class clown, I was probably it. I was the likable one,cracking jokes even after losses, keeping my smile intact. It was hard as hell, but I always needed to ease the tension in any room I entered.
Ryder rolled his eyes my way. "Let’s try that again. Who thefuckare we?"
"The Guardians!" my teammates joined in this time.
"And what do we guard?"
No one had an answer.
I raised my hand, and he sighed, clearly anticipating me.
