“Of course y’all know this means a shuffle is coming,” he said. “Line changes. Strategy adjustments. With playoffs around the corner, we can’t risk one wrong move.”
The air tightened in a different way. Guys straightened up. Some glanced at each other. Everyone knew what that meant. What was on the line.
Coach looked down the row of players, stopping on Shawn, then moving on.
“Aiden.”
I looked up, heart in my throat.
“You’re moving to first line center. Shawn will back you up.”
There was no explosion of laughter this time. Not even stunned silence. Murmurs rippled across the benches, and I felt every one of them in my gut.
First line.
No fucking way was this happening.
I started to sweat.
I’d wanted this since the day I’d walked in here. I’d imagined it so many times that hearing it out loud felt unreal, as if it belonged to someone else.
I kept my face steady. At least I tried to.
Across the room, Mason hadn’t looked away. His eyes were on Coach, not on me, and I could see the gears turning behind them.
When I’d been bumped to second line, Mason had kept his mouth shut, only sharing his opinion of me with Grayson in what he thought was a private moment in the tunnel. He’d told our captain straight up that the decision didn’t sit right, that it felt as though Coach was handing out charity spots.
Now it was him being replaced, not Shawn, which made it worse.
And he was right there to see it.
“Seriously?”
Coach looked at Mason. “You have something to say, say it.”
Mason shifted on the bench, crutches clacking lightly against the floor as he adjusted. “Yeah. I do.”
Every eye in the room turned toward him.
He looked around without flinching, addressing Coach but coasting his gaze over all of us. “I don’t get why we keep treating positions like they’re favors. If Aiden was the best man for it, then fine. But he’s not. There’s no question about who the better center is between him and Shawn.”
A couple of guys stared at the floor and thank God, because I wasn’t sure what my face was doing in that moment. All I knew was I couldn’t swallow past the bitter taste in my mouth. And I sure as fuck couldn’t stop my knee from bouncing up and down.
Coach held a straight face as he looked at Mason. “When you’re coach of this team, you’ll get to make whatever calls you want. But for now, it’s my job. I know what I’m doing, and I don’t have to explain jack shit to any of you.”
Mason’s gaze flicked toward me for the first time. He might as well have struck me with one of his crutches.
“That’s the problem,” he muttered. “Not all of us in here knows what they’re doing.”
The room held its breath, and I felt my shoulders pull inward. Tightening around something I didn’t want exposed.
“That’s enough, Calder,” Coach said.
And that was it. At least, to anyone in the locker room it looked like the end of it.
I stared at the floor tiles near my skates, feeling every heartbeat in my hands.
First line.
