“Fields. Fisher. My office, please.”
Coach Andrews doesn’t say another word as he heads back down the tunnel. My eyes find Graham’s across the ice and for once, he at least looks chagrined.
If it weren’t for him, we wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place.
He skates off first and I follow.
By the time I’m in the door after Graham, Coach Andrews is already seated behind his desk.
I haven’t spent a lot of time in here, but it has more pictures of his family than it did last year. A TV takes up one wall with a dry erase board—my guess to plan out plays—and the other has a shelf filled with books, binders, and more pictures of him and his loved ones.
“What in the hell is going on between you two?” Coach asks. This time, there’s a little less patience in his voice. “In all my years of coaching, I don’t think I’ve ever seen two teammates go after one another.”
“But—”
“No.” Coach holds up a hand, interrupting whatever argument I was about to fire off at him. “The last thing we need is a division within the team. I don’t want your dislike of one another to come between the team.”
“It’s my fault, Coach. I let my emotions get the better of me today and I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
My jaw drops. I mean, yes, it was Graham’s fault because he threw the first punch, but I didn’t expect him to so willingly accept the blame.
“Good. You’re both exceptional players, and I would hate to see you two riding the bench because you can’t control your emotions toward one another.”
The threat hangs heavy in the air.
Get your shit together or you won’t be playing.
“Yes, Coach,” both of us answer at the same time.
“And to see to it that you start liking one another, I’ll be working with the travel coordinator to make sure you two room together while we travel.”
“Wait. What?” I ask.
“Rooming together. Standard operating procedure when traveling as a team.”
“Yeah, but?—”
Coach holds up his hand, effectively ending my argument. “No buts. I don’t expect you two to be best friends by the end of the season, but you’ll work together to help bring the Knights up to a level that we’re all proud of. Understood?”
“Understood.”
“Good. Now go before I make you do more suicides.”
Chapter Four
NOAH
Where is that fucking Dopp kit?
My room is an absolute mess. Clean laundry is mixed in with the dirty laundry in a pile on my bed, and now I’m trying to get everything together in my away bag so I don’t forget anything.
Fucking hell.
I really should try and get out of the contract I signed on my new place and try to find something that’s ready now. If only I wouldn’t be out the down payment.
The chirping from my phone on the bed distracts me.
A video call from my mom.
