Page 96 of Hard to Handle

Dekker’s words replay in my mind. The confused desperation in her voice, the pleading in her eyes, the defeat in her posture . . . fuck. It killed me.

Why am I thinking about this now?

Why am I sitting in a locker room with my teammates and not celebrating being one game closer to clinching a playoff berth?

“Yes, it looks that way, doesn’t it?” Callum says as he walks past me, his finger pressed to one ear, his cell to the other. Because of her. “But don’t say the word. Don’t fucking jinx it.” His laughter rings out.

The playoffs.

She called him to talk about the playoffs.

Sanderson doesn’t call me to talk about my games.

Shit, he doesn’t call me unless it’s to make me get in line. Unless it’s negative and unsupportive, much like my old man’s.

Fucking hell.

I lean my head back on the locker behind me.

Deal with her after the playoffs.

Deal with my representation and all the shit in my head and my questions after the playoffs.

Accomplish the one thing you need to—that you promised Jonah—and then maybe you can carve out more of a life for yourself.

“Hey!” I pound my fist against the metal locker behind me and the sound echoes across the chatter in the locker room. All the guys turn toward me as I climb on top of the bench.

Their hoots and hollers fill the room and mask my own groan as my knee aches from bearing weight on it.

“Speech. Speech. Speech,” the guys begin chanting.

I motion with my hands to quiet down as I look at my teammates looking up at me. I looked at this team not very long ago and saw limitations and incompetence. Just like my dad sees in me. But when did I last congratulate them for a job well done? When did I last praise them for kicking ass? When did I last lead them off the ice like I do on the ice? The pressure to do right by them isn’t as great as my own drive to do this for Jonah, but it’s still there. In their smiles. In the excitement mixed with anticipation in their eyes.

“Way to kick ass and take names, guys. One more win and one more game down.” I let them cheer, some fists going in the air. “I just wanted to give a shout out to the defense tonight. Killer job, guys. To the fresh legs off the bench, we needed you more than you know. To the guys up top—shit, you made it easy to do our jobs tonight. In short, keep it up.”

“Great job, Cap,” Katzen yells out from the back of the room, and I nod in response, because this isn’t about me.

This is about them. It needs to be about them.

“One more thing,” I say and hold my finger up to quiet them down. “I know I’ve been shit to deal with, play with—unpredictable as fuck. I’m sorry for that, but I promise you, my head’s back in the game. My priorities are straight. And fuck if they’re not fixed on winning the Holy Grail.”

The small room explodes with noise and a palpable excitement as I climb down from the bench to finish getting my gear off.

“Glad to see you back, Cap,” Jünger says just above the fray, then pats me on the back as he walks past me.

And each one of my teammates follow his footsteps.

A punch to my shoulder. A push to my chest. A bump of fists.

Each one stops and tells me in their own way that they’re in it with me.

That they’re ready to win it all.

And fuck, so am I.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

HUNTER