“But,” he adds, pushing off the wall, “it looks like everything worked out in the end.”
There’s a beat of silence between us.
I study his face, trying to read how much he knew and how much he had planned.
Was he behind the story being leaked?
How would he benefit from it getting out?
“Looks that way, doesn’t it?” I say finally.
He nods once.
“Good,” he says. “Because we’re going to need you.”
He turns and heads back in the direction of his office, like this conversation wasn’t anything more than a routine check-in.I stand there for a few minutes, piecing together everything that was said, trying to make sense of it all.
The locker room is noisy when I walk back in. Talon is in the middle of some story. Half the guys are laughing while Kade shakes his head at whatever nonsense he’s saying.
“What was that about?” Owen asks.
“Coach wanted a word,” I say, dropping in front of my stall.
Kade leans back in his chair. “Good news or bad?”
I pull my shirt over my head and toss it into my gear bag.
“I’ll tell you about it later.”
That gets their attention. Talon studies me like he’s trying to read into what it means, but the conversation shifts before anyone can push it further.
Greer’s stall is two spots down. They’ve already updated the plaque below his shelf with his name.
He’s leaning back against his stall when I glance over, chatting with the guys like he’s been here all season, laughing loud enough for half the room to hear.
He catches me looking and gives me a nod, and I nod back. That’s all he’s getting for now.
I’ve heard plenty about him. He has a reputation for playing dirty. Something tells me the rest of the season is about to get more interesting with him here too.
“What brought you to Rixton anyway? What’s with the transfer?” one of the guys asks.
It’s not confrontational and more out of curiosity than anything else. Transfers don’t usually happen this late in the season, not without a reason.
Greer shrugs like it’s no big deal.
“Personal,” he says.
“Well, that’s vague as hell.” One of the sophomore guys laughs, dragging his towel over his hair.
Greer just smiles, not rushing to fill in the blanks.
“It made sense,” he adds. “For me anyway.”
“For hockey?” Another guy presses.
He lifts his shoulder. “Life.”
A couple of guys groan.
