Page 161 of Breakaway Hearts

Coach goes around the desk, sits with his hands connected in a kind of triangle, and stares at me for a bit before asking, “What the hell happened last night?”

He sounds more confused than angry.

“I lost my cool,” I say simply.

“You don’t normally need to keep it. I spent your first year reminding you to hit more, to get angry sometimes, because nothing fazed you. The stakes were never high enough.”

I’m waiting for the question, but it sounds like he’s blaming this on raised stakes…on Madison.

“This isn’t her fault.”

“Never said it was. I’m just asking what the hell happened?”

“He made inappropriate comments.”

“About?”

Wanting to say hi to my girlfriend? That she looks good in a non-sleazy way? None of his words give me anything to stand on. Punching the other guy would have been more understandable, but even his sharing comment isn’t as bad without context. Which I absolutely cannot give.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“The hell it doesn’t, Brooks. I can’t have the captain of my team punching players on the ice, repeatedly, for no reason.”

It hadn’t occurred to me that I’d be stripped of the captain title. Or that it would feel like a loss, when it’s not like I ever deserved it. You’d think it would be a relief, but it feels terrible.

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what happened.”

“Then don’t.”

“They want me to suspend you for three games,” he tells me. “Which goes on your record, both academic and athletic. The school also has a no tolerance for violence policy that they could use to revoke your scholarship and expel you.”

I’m going to be sick. I can’t tell if that’s what’s happening, or if he’s trying to scare me into telling him why I did it.

I didn’t think I’d have to leave Wynchester.

Leave Maddie.

“You’re a good kid, Owen. You made a mistake. If you give me anything to go on, I’m sure I can reduce the suspension to one game and have it stricken from your record. There’s no use in ruining your future over this.”

And just like that, the sick feeling turns to disgust. I imagine this is exactly how it must have happened with Trevor’s high school coach. Coming up with excuses, sweeping things under the rug, anything to not ruin his bright and promising future…or lose his father’s donations.

“Thanks, but I’ll take whatever punishment the board sees fit. I don’t need a way out of this.”

“Owen…”

“Would you still try this hard to protect me if I said I just didn’t like his face, or did it because I knew I could get away with it? If I said he was asking for it?”

“Of course not.” Coach looks offended.

“Even though I’m your star player?”

His eyebrows shoot up at the insinuation.

“Where is this coming from?”

I sigh, but I’m angry again. At Trevor. At a world that protects assholes and abusers. Especially if they have money, connections, or talent.

“Hypothetically speaking, if you found out I was taking advantage of people, hurting them and doing things I shouldn’t, would you just sweep it under the rug so we could win games? Make sure they keep my name out of it so we can make it to the Frozen Four?”