There’s a reason behind my rule against hockey players, and it’s for my own self-preservation.
“Alex is your daughter?” he asks, and I try to shake my head, internally begging him to shut up.
He has no idea how bad this is, but he won’t be the one in trouble. He’s the golden boy who can’t do anything wrong in my father’s eyes, whereas I’m his greatest disappointment for quitting the one thing that held value to him for no apparent reason.
“Last I checked, I didn’t have a daughter named Alex, but I do have one named Alondra. I’m sorry, how do you know each other, and why do you think her name is Alex?” Dad asks, and Jack looks down at me, his eyes widening with what I can only assume is panic, because I feel the exact same way.
Thelastthing I need is for Jack to tell my dad I met him at a bar.
“Um, we’re in Comp II English together, and I’m tutoring him. He assumed my name was Alex because I go by Al,” I blurt out, but the only way this works is if Jack doesn’t correct me. I tutored in high school, so it makes it believable.
“She’s tutoring you?” Dad asks, and I look up at Jack, hoping he can snap out of it.
He clamps his jaw shut, nodding. “Yeah. We’ve been meeting every Tuesday and Thursday night to go over what we learned in class the day before,” he replies, and I’m so relieved I think I might cry. Jack might think I’m insane, especially if he has no reason to need a tutor, but I’m not ready for the lecture I’d get if Dad thinks I’m distracting any of his players, let alone Jack Schultz.
“Exactly. That’s all it is. Tutoring,” I reassure my dad, glancing over my shoulder.
He fixes a serious gaze on me, his eyebrows knit together. “Al, I hope you’re taking this seriously. Our chances at making the Frozen Four drop significantly if Schultz is academically ineligible.”
“She is—we both are,” Jack interrupts, which is better than anything I would’ve said.
This is my very definition of hell.
CHAPTER 2
Jack
Alondra.
I can’t stop thinking about how the beautiful girl I couldn’t stop staring at on Friday night has the prettiest name, but she’s Coach B’s daughter.
I’m so fucked if he finds out I kissed her.
My best friend, Dylan, knocks my shoulder, jarring me from my thoughts. “Man, what is with you today? Get your head out of the clouds before Coach B notices,” he says, and I shake my head, adjusting my grip on the stick.
“Nothing, I’m fine,” I mumble, but I couldn’t feel less like myself.
What the fuck happened in Coach B’s office again?
Alex is actually Alondra, but Alondra is Coach B’s daughter, which makes her so extremely off-limits that it’s not even funny. I then lied to him in his office about his daughter tutoring me, but the truth is I am struggling in Comp II. I should care more about how, if my barely-thereCdrops to aD, I’ll be academically ineligible.
Dylan and I set up next to Nate, running a simple two versus one puck protection drill as I focus on the ice beneath my skatesand keeping the puck away from Nate while working seamlessly with Dylan.
I lose myself to the familiar feeling, a sense of calm washing over me to help settle the unease in my mind.
Hockey is the one thing that’s always made sense to me.
On the ice is the one place I was good enough for everyone but Momma. She’s only ever cared if I’m happy—well, and that I get my degree. It’s the only thing she’s asked of me, and I can’t tell her no. Not after everything she’s gone through and sacrificed for me.
I’ve never been the smartest kid in the room. No matter how hard I try, or how long I spend studying, or even how many times I proofread an assignment before turning it in, it’s never good enough. Unfortunately, my average grades reflect it. After getting drafted by the Carolina Dolphins in the first round, I wanted to sign my contract right away, but Momma begged me to get my degree first since I’d already signed my National Letter of Intent to Wilder University after Coach Brown offered me a scholarship in my junior year of high school. It was the only way Momma could afford to send me after putting pennies together to help me play in the first place, and she was right when she said I had a lot to learn from Coach Brown.
He played a few seasons in the NHL before multiple back-to-back concussions on the ice forced him into early retirement, but he’s had one hell of a run since taking over as the head coach for the Wilder Wolves. Coach B has sent more players to play professional hockey after leaving college than anyone else, and I can already see the difference in my abilities after the past two seasons.
Momma’s always told me there’s different types of smart, and my dyslexia doesn’t define me unless I let it. I’ve done tutoring and joined study groups, but this goddamn English class is going to be the death of me. I already failed it once,and if I fail again this semester, I’ll be ineligible for not making progress toward my degree. With our schedule slowly growing more intense the closer we get to season, I haven’t been able to attend as many of the groups as I’d like, and unfortunately the graduate teaching assistant, Maggie, is too busy trying to flirt with me to be of any actual help. The last thing I need is someone accusing me of trading sexual favors for grades when I’m already struggling to keep my head above water.
My head is still spinning after practice, trying to decide if I should confess everything to Coach B, but I keep seeing the look on Alondra’s face before she blurted out that she was tutoring me. I’m not sure it’s worth trying to decipher the meaning behind it when I’m the idiot who fell for a fake name from a girl with a pretty smile at the bar.
“Schultz, you good?” Coop asks, lifting a blond eyebrow in my direction as I finish pulling my shirt on.
