I skated over to the cooler where the pucks were kept on ice and grabbed one, bringing it to the center face-off circle. “Listen up boys. Every person on this ice is here today because you love this fucking game. That’s the only way someone gets this far. No one is going to put up with the years of six a.m. practices, the travel, the beating this shit takes on your body, unless they love the game.”
I sighed, rubbing a gloved hand over my sweaty face. “I know it’s not fun to lose. It’s not fun to have your coach screaming at you all day. I get it. But we all need to remember why we love this game. So let’s just play some hockey. Don’t worry about any of the bullshit. Let’s just have fun.”
“Sounds damn good to me,” Jay called out. “Let’s play some hockey, boys!”
And for the next forty-five minutes, that’s exactly what we did.
I had expectedCane and the other guys who left practice to be long gone by the time we hit the showers, but a few of them still lingered in the locker room. From the towels wrapped around their waists, I figured they’d taken the suggestion to spend time in the steam room.
“Bet they’re too chicken shit to actually leave the building,” Karlsson muttered to me as we removed pads. “Afraid someone from the GMs office might stop by and see them skipping practice.”
He was probably right. Guys like Ryan Cane were all talk. And I’d had just about enough of him.
“Morning, boys,” a cheery female voice called as Skylar Vaughn, the PR head, entered the room. “I have updated off-ice commitment schedules here.” There was a chorus of groans and Skylar grinned ruefully as she began to pass out the papers. Every player was required to attend a certain amount of PR functions and charity events. Most of them weren’t too bad, some were even pretty fun, but it did get a little tiresome to have your free hours spoken for when you spent so much time out of town.
“What the hell is this?” Cane called out, looking at the schedule in his hands. “Fun for All?”
“Oh,” Skylar said, her face lighting up. “That’s the charity management has decided to team up with this season. They bring sports programs to underprivileged communities. It’s a great organization and we’re really excited to be working with them. I think it will be a lot of fun for all of you.”
“Underprivileged communities, huh?” Conway, one of the D-men said. He smirked over at Gabe. “That sounds right up your alley, huh, Dalton?”
Gabe looked at him, unflinching. “I grew up in Greenwich, Connecticut, asshole. But thanks for the assumption. Really shows your intelligence.”
“What the fuck did you say to me?” Conway growled.
“Jesus,” Jay muttered next to me.
“He’s not worth it,” Ryan Cane sneered. He cast another dismissive glance at his schedule. “And this all sounds like some woke ass diversity bullshit.” He crumpled up the paper and tossed it carelessly at Skylar’s feet. “I’m not doing it.”
She gaped at him for a moment, as if she couldn’t quite believe anyone could be such a raging asshole. Before she could respond, I was up off the bench and striding towards him, still in my lower pads and skates. I didn’t give a shit. I’d had enough.
“You wanna be on this team? You’re gonna do what you’re told,” I snarled, getting close to him. I had a good two inches on the guy, more with my skates on, and it felt pretty damn good to make him look up at me.
Cane’s face tightened. “You think you’re the boss around here, huh? Well, you can go and fuck yourself. This entire organization is a damn disaster and if you think for one minute I’m going to waste my time on this feel-good bullshit just because some chick with nice tits thinks?—”
I had him up against the wall before he could finish the sentence, my left forearm pressed against his neck. “You are not going to talk about an employee of this organization like that.”
He tried to push my arm off, sneering. “God, do you ever get tired of being such a prissy little boy scout?”
I wasn’t feeling like much of a boy scout in that moment. All of my frustration over Chloe and the team’s struggles werecurrently focused right on this asshole with the smug, sneering little face.
“I am done with your attitude,” I snarled, pushing my arm in a little harder. “You’re a cancer on this team.”
“Thisteamis a joke,” he shot back. “I’m just putting in my time until my contract is up and I can sign somewhere decent.” He glared at the gawking crowd over my shoulder. “And if the rest of you have any fucking brains, you’ll do the same.”
Then he narrowed his eyes at me. “But you’re pretty good at clinging to a sinking ship, aren’t you, O’Conner? How long did you stay with your wife after she started screwing every player she could get her hands on?” He let out a nasty little snicker. “Yeah, we heard all about her, even in Atlanta. Half the players in the league knew she was up for a good time whenever we played New York. You were just too much of a pussy to notice?—”
My fist was making contact with his jaw before I’d even consciously thought to throw the punch. I was done with this asshole, done with everything. If he wanted to be the target for all the shit in my life right now, then I was happy to let him.
“Hey!”
People behind us were shouting, arms trying to pull me off. Cane held a hand up to his split lip, blood smearing on his fingers. He looked a little shell-shocked, like he couldn’t believe I would actually hit him. It only made me want to do it again.
“Enough, man,” Jay said in my ear. “He’s not worth it.”
Jay and Enzo finally managed to pull me off. “I’m not going to let you poison this locker room,” I panted, pointing at Cane. “You keep your fucking mouth shut.”
He glared at me, breathing hard, but didn’t respond. Apparently, his big mouth had run out of things to say. Or else he knew I could kick his ass.
