Page 13

I usually go into a deep focus when I play hockey. The second I snap my helmet in place, I turn off all the other noise buzzing around my head. It’s why I love this game. I am not worried about my brothers or my parents when I’m on the ice. I’m just moving that puck around with other guys who are actually close to my same size.

Tonight is different.

I’m distracted, thinking about the kiss I dropped on BB as I left Gianna’s. It was the first time in years my mouth had touched a woman. It affected me, damn it.

I take a stupid penalty in the second that gives DC a power play, and they convert immediately. The score is 3-1, and Coach is chewing through his gum. I ride the bench for the third period, staring at the ice. I’m not even mad about the decision, but that doesn’t make it any easier to get my head in the game.

After the final buzzer, the team plods quietly to the locker room. Grentley kicks a laundry bin. The Stag twins whisper to each other. I sink onto the bench, trying to work up the energy to unlace my skates.

“Mayhem. My office.” Coach doesn’t look at me as he storms by, and he leaves the door to his lair open. I yank off my skates and jersey and enter the room, hoping the sweat doesn’t drip from my hair onto his furniture.

He sits back in his chair, arms crossed. “Sit down, Miller.”

I do, except I’m still in my gear, so I don’t really fit in the chair. “What’s in that head of yours?” he demands. “You follow through with the team psych?”

I shake the body part in question. “He had a conflict. I’m sorry, Coach.”

We stare at one another. He signed me on right out of college, and I rarely give him a reason to keep me in this office with the door shut. I wonder if I should involve my agent as he keeps gnawing that gum. “You’re a better player than this, and I’ve seen your fitness stats. Hell, I’ve seen you at practice. This isn’t a physical issue.”

I hold his gaze. "I'm working on it."

He unfolds his arms and rests both hands on the desk, leaning forward slightly. "Cameron. You are one of the most important men on this team. You know that. I know that.” He pauses, making sure I'm receiving this. “I don’t need to tell you how much money you’re being paid to perform at a certain level out there.” I drum my fingers on my thighs. "You're better than tonight. Get serious about fixing whatever this is.” He picks up his clipboard. "Send in Spinelli on your way out."

We both know the Fury aren’t going to win a cup this year. Hell, we’ll be lucky to make the first round of the playoffs at this point. Coach knows this perfectly well, and there’s nothing for me to add beyond “Thank you, Coach.”

I pass Spinner in the hall, leaning against the wall. At least he had time to strip off his pads so he’ll fit in the chair. “Coach wants you,” I tell him.

My friend winces. “How bad?”

"He's in a great mood," I say. "Very relaxed. Really enjoying the evening."

Spinner whistles. “Mayhem, dude, that’s the most I’ve ever heard you say.”

I strip down in my stall. Nobody’s loud or cracking jokes. There’s no media here, so I can whip off my shirt without worrying. My mother always calls me if my tattoos make it onto television. All those drawings, Cameron. You look like a motorcycle gang leader.

I shower and change back into my suit, planning to drive straight home and sit with my cat. But Spinner and Rookie materialize in what I recognize as club clothes.

Rookie claps me on the shoulder. “We’re going out, big guy.”

I snort. “Absolutely not. And watch it with my shoulder.”

“Sorry.” He pats my chest, where I’ve also got a bruise simmering. “But there are ladies waiting for us in Station Square.”

I look at him. "No."

"Mayhem." Spinner takes my duffel bag off my shoulder and tucks it back into my stall. “We’re going out.”

"I want to go home. I want to sit with my cat and ice my knees.”

Spinner grins. “I can’t tell if cat means Puck or if you’re already using code names for BB, but her girl Ducky is my new best friend. The Uprising are down at Enclave, waiting for us. You wouldn’t want to keep your lady waiting, would you, Cam-cam?”

He holds up his phone, showing a photo of an exasperated BB standing with one of her teammates. I glare at him. “Don’t put pictures of her on your phone.”

“Relax. I’ll delete it.” He does so and Rookie laughs.

I groan. "One drink.”

Spinner beams. "Absolutely. One drink. We'll be home by midnight."