“Don’t,” he bites out. “Just…don’t.”
He skates off the ice, shoulders around his ears.
Shit. I’ve already lost Angie this week. There’s no way I can lose him too.
Fuck.
Marcus heads to the locker room, but Coach Morris points directly at his office. I guess there’s no changing before this beating.
I drop down into the chair beside Marcus in the tiny office. For a coach’s office, it’s sparsely decorated. Aside from a whiteboard covered in plays on one wall, there isn’t much in here.
The slam of his door reverberates around us.
If I’m still on the team by the end of the day, I’d be shocked.
“Never, in all my years of coaching, have I seen my captain and alternate go after each other.”
“It was my fault,” I offer up immediately.
“Why?”
“I’m going?—”
Coach holds up his hand, stopping me. “Save it. I don’t actually want to hear it. There’s no reason you could give me that would excuse your behavior today.”
His eyes are murderous as he stares between the two of us.
“Are we going to be suspended?” Marcus asks.
“I should. I should kick both of you off the team. You know I don’t put up with this. You’re captains and seniors. You’re supposed to set an example to the rest of the team. And you’re fighting?”
“I’m sorry, Coach.” It’s all I can say.
“Tomorrow before practice. Every drill you hate—iron cross, lightning drills—you’re doing all of them. Two hours early. Then practice. I don’t plan on taking it easy on you.”
“Yes, Coach,” we answer in unison.
“Now get the hell out of my office. I don’t want to see either one of you.”
Fuck. Considering how much worse that could have been, I think suicide drills is basically getting off scot-free.
“Way to go, asshole,” Marcus mutters as we enter the locker room. He ignores me as he grabs his stuff to hit the showers. With practice still going on, we’re the only two in here.
All the fight has left my body as I slump into my stall and bang my head against the tiled wall.
Am I really going to let my entire future slip through my fingers because of Angie?
What kind of future do I have without her?
“Are you really just going to sit here and sulk? Jesus,what the fuck is the matter with you?” Marcus chucks his towel into his own stall. Water drips from his hair, soaking his T-shirt. “Seriously. I’m done with this ‘I’m fine’ bullshit. If I’m dragging my ass out of bed for suicides tomorrow, I deserve to know why.”
“Angie left.”
That draws him back. There’s a tiny cut on his jaw that’s red. At least it’s not bleeding. “What? No way.”
I nod. I haven’t said the words out loud. Because saying them out loud makes them true. I haven’t wanted to face it yet.
“Her dads found out.”
