Being captain used to feel natural to me. I don’t want to sound arrogant when I say I was born to lead, but it has always been easy for me. I’ve always tried to connect with people, and when you earn their respect by showing them respect in turn, it just clicks together. Everyone works as a team.
But right now, with four of my guys staring me down and waiting for my next move, I feel like I want to crawl out of my own skin. A feeling I’ve only recently become accustomed to.
I fucking hate it.
Nash, Beau, Aiden, and Luka watch me closely, all of their faces set in a hard line of determination and focus.
A tiny spark of my old self flares to life, and I grab onto it with everything I have in me.“This is our time to shine, boys. For some of us, this is our last hoorah. I don’t want to leave anything on the table—you with me?”
There are nods of approval and determination, along with some,“hell yeahs.”
I can’tquellthe relief that I feel when Coach blows the whistle to dismiss us. The feeling is so foreign that I’m takenabackby its appearance.
I try to shake it off, and just as I start to make my way toward the exit, Wyatt Thatcher—Stella’s boyfriend and current enemy number one, at least to me, comes up beside me. I stiffen, and my hand tightens around my hockey stick just to have something to hold onto so I don’t punch the fucker in the face. I might have promised Stella that we were good, but that promise doesn’t extend to her now boyfriend.
Nope, he’s still on my shit list.
“You okay?”he asks like we’re best buddies or some shit.
“The fuck you care?”I bristle.
He sighs and looks around, something that looks an awful lot like regret passing over his features.
Good.
“Look, man, I’m trying here.”
I’m already shaking my head because I know exactly what’s going on here.“Tell her I’m good, and that we’re good.”
“So lie to her?”He actually looks affronted.
“Yeah, basically. She doesn’t need to worry about this shit. She needs to focus on healing.”My stomach sours when I think about what she went through not that long ago. I don’t want her thinking or worrying about the trivial shit between Wyatt and me.
“We finally fucking agree on something. Trust me, I’ve tried to tell her that, but you know how she is.”
I smile because I do know. That’s why I call herLittle Chihuahua. Small and feisty.
“Maybe you can talk to her?”His suggestion shocks the shit out of me.
"Let me get this straight. Youwantme to talk to her?"I stop and turn toward him.
He stops alongside me. I look over to see Luka watching the two of us closely, his eyebrows pulling together questioningly. I tilt my head as if to sayI don't know what the fuck this is.
"No, I don't want you to talk to her. But if that's what she needs to put this shit to rest so she can focus on herself, then so be it. She doesn't believe me when I tell her we're good."
My laugh lacks humor as I stare at him."So you want me to lie to her?"
"Isn't that what you just told me to do?"he scoffs.
I shrug my shoulders."Yeah, that's fucking different."Stella andmyrelationship is complicated. I thought I was in love with her not more than a month ago—until she told me she loved this fucker standing in front of me instead.
Then she told me I didn't love her like I thought I did. That I was onlyin love with theideaof her. I don't agree.
So no, I'm not going to lie to her and tell her everything's all roses and sunshine between us.
"What the fuck am I supposed to do, man? We both agree she should be focusing on healing and not this stupid bullshit between us. But if you won't help me convince her we're good, she's not going to let it go."
"Sounds like your fucking problem,"I say as I push past him, done with this conversation and done with this fucking practice. But as soon as the words leave my lips, I feel guilty, not for beingan ass to him, but because I'm essentially refusing to help Stella. And that's something I thought I'd never do.
