Page 10 of Arctic Titans of Northwood U: Volume 1

“Coach? You wanted to see me,” I said as I pushed the partially cracked door open and entered Coach’s office.

“Brooks,” he said, his voice pitched high and nasal, but pinning me to the spot.

“Coach, I can explain,” I said, dropping the act and diving head first into it.

But Coach was still two steps ahead of me. He lifted his hand to stop me right there. “I can put two and two together for myself, thank you very much. Let me guess. You don’t click together. Maybe you don’t like each other. Maybe you’re competitive.”

I pursed my lips.

Coach lifted an eyebrow. “You knew each other, I hear.”

I rolled my eyes. “Barely.”

“That’s not what I hear,” Coach said, his tone giving me no indication as to how he felt about this. I only knew his disappointment at our terrible performance today. “But we’re not here to deal in gossip.”

I held his gaze while narrowing down the search for the one who spilled the story. Beckett, no doubt. But it was the fact that Cameron so easily told a total stranger about our past is what bothered me the most.

Just as I inhaled to ask Coach why we were here at all, he proceeded. “You’re the leader of this team, Riley. Of the entire team. It’s a privilege, yes, but it’s a responsibility before all else.”

“I understand that, Coach. It’s just…” I mulled over my words and ended up spilling the least remarkable ones. “It’s just complicated with Martinez, Sir.”

Coach nodded his understanding. “That should not affect you if you still have hopes to get drafted. Think of Messier and Gretzky. Or Lemieux and Jagr. Or Pronger and Niedermayer. And they are just off the top of my head, son. You won’t be the first player who couldn’t get along with a teammate. You wouldn’t even be the first one to lose his career because of it. But it would be a shame, Riley.”

That lit a fire under my ass and I lifted my chin in defiance. “I’m not going to lose my career over Cameron Martinez.”

It was in that moment, when Coach’s eyes glinted, that I realized he wanted to provoke this reaction out of me. He wanted to see the determination so that he could unload the worst task onto me. “Then you’ll start training him off the ice. Get your heads aligned.”

The words rang in my ears for a long while. Me? Training someone as stubborn as Cameron? “He’s never going to sign up for that.”

Coach’s gaze didn’t waver when he said, “He already has.”

My shoulders dropped into a ‘fuck me’ slouch and I closed my eyes for a moment to steady my mind. “Fine,” I sighed. “If that’s what it takes.”

Coach sucked his teeth. “Son, that’s the least it takes. The price of greatness is steep.” His tone was surprisingly soft and compassionate. “I’m afraid that’s a lesson you have yet to learn.”

And on that ominous note, I was excused and made my way to the team house. I picked the long way around campus unintentionally. It was only when my stomach growled and I realized how late it was that I understood just how badly I wanted to be away from Cameron.

Crossing paths on ice, even without exchanging a word, was enough to bombard my attention into smithereens. His mere presence at Northwood was a threat to my position and my future. His proximity irked me, tickled my stomach, and left me flustered. He made my mind skip over things and I couldn’t afford that distraction. Not the least because he’d already shown his true colors three years ago and I would be smart to remember that. No amount of brooding looks and dark locks of hair falling over his brown eyes made him any less heartless.

He was just another one in the endless line of people who thought I was good, but not excellent. I had never been good enough; not for my parents and not for the only guy I’d ever truly fallen for. Mom and Dad had always wanted another doctor. And Cam… Fuck if I knew what he wanted, but it had never been me.

The only useful thing I could do was play like hell. My entire life depended on it.

But when I built up my determination and walked into the team house, the last person on the planet I wanted to see shot up to his feet. Cameron had been sitting in an armchair in the open common area of the ground floor, a duffel bag next to his feet. Upon seeing me, he grabbed it and made two steps forward. “Let’s get this over with.”

“The fuck?” I rasped.

He stared at me like I was speaking in tongues. “Workout, Riley. Let’s get it done.”

“I literally just walked in,” I spat.

“Don’t take your shoes off,” he replied, his black eyebrows flat over his eyes and his cheeks flushed. He’d gotten ready in a rush, I could tell.

I sighed. This was one of those times where picking your battles came in handy. Except doing what Cameron demanded left a bitter taste in my mouth. “You’re such an asshole,” I muttered to myself and passed him to get my gym stuff from my room.

I returned a few minutes later to find Cameron standing by the front door. The brick, wood, and leather upholstery of the interior of our team house created a dim atmosphere that emphasized the darkness in Cameron’s features. The sharp, high cheekbones and the straight nose cast shadows on his face. His resting expression was that of someone gravely impatient.

I wasn’t wrong. The fucker was burning up with impatience. “Can we go already?” he asked, probably fighting the urge to tap his goddamn foot.