“We need to talk about this.”
Thismeaning my injuries, or…
“Why wasn’t I aware of how severely injured you were?”
There’s accusation in his tone, but there’s also remorse.
Fuck. The last thing this man should be doing is feeling guilty when it comes to me, and maybe I want to ensure he continues to trust me in the future.
Shifting to sit up—and fuck, does it hurt to do so—I say, “This isn’t because of what happened at the game on the other night.”
I can feel Atty’s eyes on me, but I don’t break my focus.
“I unintentionally hurt myself last night.”
It’s not a lie.
“I was volunteering at this big event for my marketing class,” I continue. “Thought I could make it creepier if I hid in a storage shed in the barn.”
My best friend grunts in surprise, but I don’t look his way.
“The space was smaller and darker than I realized. I got claustrophobic.”
Coach crosses his arms, still wearing a critical scowl.
I focus on keeping my tone even, keeping the story on track. “When I tried to get out, the door was jammed. I thought if I just put my weight into it and shoved harder, I could wrench it free. When that didn’t work, I started to panic. These injuries were caused by the way I slammed against the metal door, trying to get it to open.”
I suck in a shaky breath and hold it until my lungs burn. When I exhale, I side-eye Atty to see if he’s connected the dots.
His glower confirms he suspects what really happened last night.
My heart thuds heavily in my chest. If Coach doesn’t take me at my word, I’m fucking screwed.
Might already be anyway, but I need him to believe me. While I haven’t known him long, I’ve discovered that I trust him more than most, and I don’t want to let him down.
Finally, he sighs. “Sounds like you’re telling me some semblance of truth, Tremblay. Against my better judgment, I won’t press for more details. But this can’t happen again. From this second forward, you’re playing by my fucking rules. No arguments. No exceptions. You’ll do what I say when I say it until you’re fully recovered and cleared to be back on my ice.”
He pauses, his expression hard. But I keep my mouth shut. I’m not about to argue. I’m fucking grateful he’s not pushing the issue further.
“You’re out until I say you’re in, and don’t bother trying to speed up that process or change my mind. You will rest and you will heal and you won’t fucking argue with me. Once you’re well enough to attend practice, you’ll be at every one, along with every film meeting. If I can’t work your body, I’m going to work your mind.”
I dip my chin. “Yes, sir.”
“You’ll become a fucking expert on our systems and set plays. You’ll be on the bench for every scrimmage and game. And eventually you’ll travel with the team.”
“I’ll be okay to travel right away,” I assure him.
“Like hell you will,” he barks.
The intensity of his response sends me rearing back against the mattress, the move making every incision and bruise burn.
I suck in a sharp breath through my teeth, willing the pain to ease.
Atty cuffs my calf and squeezes in support.
To his credit, Coach clocks my visceral reaction and reins it in.
“No,” he says, tone subdued now. “You will not push yourself. You will not travel until you’ve recovered and you will not overcommit in any capacity. You’ve got to drop the bravado bullshit, Tremblay. You’re injured, and I won’t have you doing any more damage to yourself on my watch. Do you understand?”
