Doubt he’s getting dropped down a line, but he’s also not on the first line.
“Okay.”
“Play your game, Dax, and you’ll do just fine tonight.”
“Thanks, Coach.”
Conversation over, I leave his office, but don’t go right back to the locker room. I need a few deep breaths to get my head on straight.
I’ve done nothing wrong and Duncan keeps dragging me down with him. Now I’m losing my starting position? Damn, do I ever want to clock him.
But I can’t. I don’t want to prove Coach right by making this situation worse.
I need cooler heads to prevail.
If that’s what Coach Andrews wants, that’s what he’ll get.
Damn it.The lamp lights up with another Detroit goal. We’re down 4-1 now in the middle of the second period.
I hate that I’m not out there with Marcus and Bode, but it’s like whatever good mojo we had going is gone.
“Change it up.”
Hopping off the bench, I skate out to center ice for the puck drop. There’s still plenty of time to turn things around, but I’m pissed.
Pissed that I’m not on my usual line. Pissed that we’re not playing our best. And even more pissed that I’m staring down my brother across the ice now.
Exactly what Coach Andrews was trying to prevent.
“Looks like they finally let you on the ice. I didn’t think they let shitty players out here,” Duncan goads.
I ignore him, flying after the puck to grab it and hopefully close the gap. I shoot the puck to our winger who gets tied up with one of their defensemen, but going on the attack, I scoop it up and head toward the goal. Gauging where he’s going to be in the briefest of seconds, I send the puck toward his glove side and it narrowly scrapes in.
“Hell yeah!” I throw my fist in the air.
Scoring doesn’t shut him up. It’s like wherever I am, he’s right there—in my face shouting whatever comes to mind.
“Don’t get used to that,” Duncan chirps. “I’m not going to let you score again.”
Ignore him.
Heading back to the face-off, Noah comes out onto the ice to replace one of our defensemen. Having played enough with him, it’s nice to know he’s out here. Especially with Duncan still chirping in my ear.
We win the face-off, but before I can get any movement toward their zone, Duncan is slamming me against the boards.
“How does it feel to know that everyone thinksyou’rethe cheater?”
“Fuck off!” I elbow him in the pads and kick the puck out to Noah.
“I’m the golden boy now. Can’t do anything wrong.” He winks at me before taking off after Noah.
My jaw cracks as I grind my teeth together.
When did he become such an asshole? I don’t know when it happened, but him acting like this is all I can remember.
Shaking my dickhead of a brother out of my head, I get back in the game. Noah blocks a shot Duncan takes and sends the puck my way.
Hell yeah.
