Page 112 of Arctic Titans of Northwood U: Volume 1

The tavern was still quiet, although it was merely the calm before the storm. Saturday nights were raving mad here, but I doubted I would linger long enough to experience it. I found a small table in the corner and ordered a light beer out of habit.

After scanning the bar once for any possible eye contact, I resorted to my phone. I scrolled the faceless, nameless profiles of the guys in my area, seeing the same six packs I’d seen before or emoji stickers covering people’s heads. My profile shamelessly bore my shower selfie, revealing my face and torso and hinting at more to see where the image was cut off at the bottom.

My dark hair was wet in the photo, and my green eyes caught the ceiling light, reflecting it with a twinkle. I had an inbox full of photo attachments from strangers I had never spoken to. I didn’t dare open them, especially not in public. I’d made that mistake once, a year ago, and I was never going to make it again.

At times, it felt like I had been a totally different person a year ago. Riley had been there to confront Beckett whenever that asshole made a comment in my direction. I had just come out to my parents and Riley had lowkey encouraged me to go out and have fun. These days, it wasn’t so much fun. The initial anxiety and expectations gave way to habit. I scrolled until my eye caught a handsome torso I hadn’t seen before. I clicked it, then left a little fire stamp on his profile. I read the description, which stated his interests, and sighed with relief when it said he wasn’t looking for anything romantic. I got a ‘hey’ in my inbox a minute later. The guy was a mile away and a couple of years older, so I figured he wasn’t a campus resident.

I texted him back, and we exchanged photos of our faces, a few compliments, and another round of slightly more risky pics. He was a cute blond with a long face and bright blue eyes. And, sadly, he did nothing to my curiosity. It wasn’t his fault. In the last two weeks, I had dialed up my after-hours activities to the point where everything bored me.

When our chatting slowed down and we reached the point of deciding whether to meet up, I let him off the hook and hoped he found what he was looking for. I sat in the corner while the tavern filled with a few smaller groups of people, then quietly stalked away.

On my way back to the house, restlessness filled my stomach.

The original shock had worn off long ago, but the disappointment remained. It bugged me in all sorts of wrong ways. I hadn’t deserved to be pushed aside like that. But it bothered me just as much that my instinct was to walk away.

I pushed these thoughts aside and focused on the problems at hand. The biggest of them all was Beckett Partridge. Captain or not, his hatred had reached a new level. And mine was matching his pace perfectly. Things could only get worse the more I was around him. And I was forced to be around him all the goddamn time.

Even now, returning to the house, annoyance mixed with antagonism. He was so embedded in my thoughts that I had a constant shield against him. I was perpetually sharp and ready to strike, too.

It was tiring. It was everywhere. It was something I didn’t know how to handle on my own. And worst of all, I had no one to talk to. Riley was too busy setting the foundations for the rest of his life with Cameron and Sawyer was too neutral to give me more than a mediator’s response. My family didn’t know just how bad things had gotten around here. And I doubted that my love for hockey would survive the accruing injustices. I had rushed with exploring the dating scene around Northwood that I found myself bored and uninterested. All I wanted to do was shout and fight. And I wanted to see Beckett’s surprised expression when it was my hand around his throat.

Chapter Four

BECKETT

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I snapped, tossing my stick in rage. Few people had ever gotten me to this point, but Caden Fucking Jones was one of them.

Our first real game was weeks away and we were still like a band of urchins that someone rounded off the street to form the world’s saddest hockey parody. In the history of the Arctic Titans, this was probably the first time when the more we practiced, the worse we performed. And it ate my soul away.

Caden had just allowed the puck to slide right by his side. He’d barely even noticed it.

“What the hell are you thinking about? What’s so important that you can’t keep an eye on the goddamn thing?” I demanded answers, but Caden cocked his head and shrugged.

“Sorry, Cap,” he said flatly. “I was miles away.”

This wasn’t the first time he’d been miles away. And it wouldn’t be the last, either. These three weeks of keeping this team together with prayers and duct tape were starting to take a toll on me. And Caden fucking loved it.

Perhaps I’d gone too far in the locker room. Then again, Caden had been the one to heat the fire poker and come after me. I was sick of the mutterings that undoubtedly Caden spread. I was sick of everyone undermining Coach Murray’s integrity and accusing me of nepotism. I wasn’t stupid. I knew how the story went.

Coach Murray told me to stop by his office when he dismissed us. So I did. After we showered and dressed, the guys went their way. Caden wasn’t around when I passed and I went down the hallway to Coach Murray’s office.

“Coach?” I called as I entered the office.

Coach Murray leaned back in his worn-out chair, fingers twined on his stomach. The stocky man’s hair was more salt than pepper, and his mustache matched it. His bushy eyebrows dragged up as I shut the door on my way in. “Partridge. Sit.” His metallic rasp never failed to make me nervous when he was as curt as this.

I sat in one of the chairs in front of his desk. None of the assistant coaches were here when I longed for a friendly face. “Sir?”

Coach Murray observed me for a short while. His gaze was sharp and determined. He measured me, inhaled through his nose, and held his breath for a heartbeat.

“Sir, I don’t know what else to do. I can’t force him to do better. He’s deliberately failing just to show everyone how terrible I am. I tried speaking to him.” Well, communicating was a better way to call it. And it hadn’t been the friendliest of communications. But even if I’d been glazed with honey, I doubted Caden would have a friendly word to spare for me. I stood by that locker room encounter. I only wished I hadn’t stumbled over my words when he’d torn the towel off and forced me to look away. Classy motherfucker.

Coach Murray simply cocked his head and exhaled, a few hairs of his mustache trembling on the wind.

“It’s him you should speak to, Coach. He’s the problem.” I insisted. Then, as Coach let the silence hang a while longer, I realized what the tactic was. Sometimes, silence could be so persuasive that you spoke the truth that was never asked of you.

But Coach nodded. “Do you suggest we take him off the team?”

I concealed my surprise by stiffening my jaw and dug my fingernails into the armrests. An odd sort of fear uncoiled in my belly. Take Caden off? That was…drastic. But I had absolutely no fucking reason to fight for Caden’s spot. He could burn in hell for all I cared. Except, to cut his career short just like that seemed harsh. Not that he deserved any better, the righteous fucker. But could I sign the execution warrant?