He’s got me, Asher, Warren, Ben, and Justin sitting around like a bunch of idiots who need a lecture on why drugs are bad.
He drags it on and on, repeating himself, and circling back to the same points about team integrity and respect and responsibility.
But I can’t focus on any of it.
I can’t stop thinking about Tiger.
The way she leaned into me in the car. The way she looked at the house like it might swallow her whole. The gun wound wrapped in bandages. Her resilience through all of it.
There has to be something I’m missing. Something beneath the surface that I haven’t put my finger on yet.
She’s handling this too well. If my dad shot me, I wouldn’t want anything to do with three hockey stooges showing up and disrupting my life even more.
Honest to God.
Pussy would be the last thing on my list.
I cut off Coach mid-sentence. “Have you considered that it was Rowan who sabotaged the samples?”
Asher’s head whips toward me. He looks at me in disbelief.
But Ben nods slowly. “Yeah. Why is it just us in here?”
Coach’s face reddens. “You’re here because I saw footage from the party the other night, and you five were the—”
“Told by who?” I scoff. “Rowan?”
Coach snaps. “He is the team captain—”
“Call him in here right now. I swear I saw him getting ready to skate with Zeff earlier, so he’s probably still out there.”
“I can’t stand this kiddie he-said-she-said bullshit anymore—” Coach storms toward the door and slams it behind him so hard the walls shake.
I shrug and look at Asher. “Looks like your friend is going to be in big trouble.”
Asher scratches his face nervously. “I don’t even know why I’m here.”
Ben leans back in his chair with his arms crossed. “Because your bestie sold you out.”
Warren and Justin sit quietly on the other side of the table. They haven’t said a word this entire time.
Asher scowls at Ben and opens his mouth like he’s about to argue.
“Just admit it, Ash,” I smirk. “You were only sucking up to Rowan to stay out of situations like this.”
Asher glares at me. His jaw clenches.
I turn my head away and sigh. “But you were never safe. Rowan has a stick so far up his ass he can taste wood.”
The door opens.
Rowan walks in still wearing his full gear. Skates and all.
“Look at that,” I say, smirking.
Rowan takes a seat next to Justin, pulls off his gloves, and sets them on the table. “What’s going on?”
“We just want to know why we’re all on your shit list,” I say.
