Page 43 of Offside Devil

A whistle blares through my thoughts. I spin around to find Coach Popov scowling at me.

“Someone’s in trouble,” Carson croons as he skates up from behind me.

Last I knew, he was in front of me. The fact that he got past me without me noticing is probably why Coach is beckoning me over with two crooked fingers and the kind of venomous scowl that only a hardened Russian man can put on.

Ice sprays as I skid to a stop. “Sorry, Coach.”

“Don’t apologize to me.” His jaw is tight as he tips his head towards my teammates. “Apologize to them. They’re the ones who are going to be doing sprints after the scrimmage if you can’t do your job.”

“I’m not doing fucking sprints, Whitaker.” Jace is pacing behind me. “I’m too old for that shit.”

Popov’s scowl softens. Jace is the only person who's ever been able to make Coach smile during one of his tirades. If I make captain, I guess that’ll be my job.

I have a long way to go.

“You’re still following my orders until the end of the season, Jace,” Popov reminds him. “You chose to throw your weight behind Zane. Now, you’ll suffer the consequences.”

I smack my stick on the ice. “There aren’t going to be consequences. I’m here. I’m ready to play.”

He crosses his burly arms. “I don’t want to hear you say it; I want to see it.”

Jace follows me as I push off of the boards. I’m glaring at Carson across the ice. He’s screwing around with his defensemen in front of the goalie like he doesn’t have a care in the world. They look my way and I know he’s talking shit.

He thinks he has the captaincy in the bag—and right now, I’m not giving him a reason to doubt himself.

Suddenly, Jace skates between us. He waves his glove in front of my face. “What the hell is up with you today, man?”

“Nothing.” My phone burns in my pocket. It’s been ten minutes since I talked to Mira, and I already want to pull it out. I want to know what’s going on.

Jace snorts. “Bullshit. Your head is so far up your own ass that I’m not sure you can even hear me right now. Nathan was looking to you for guidance before that last goal, but you didn’t fuckin’ move. Carson went straight down the middle.”

“I—I have a lot on my mind, but I’m here now,” I grit out.

For three more hours. I’m busy for three more hours, and then I can go home. Everything will be fine until then.

“Are you? Because you’re still looking at the damn clock!” He slaps his hand against the side of my helmet. “I put my weight behind you, Z. But if I thought you were going to offer up captain to the biggest asshole on the team, I never would’ve recommended you to Coach.”

“I’m not handing Carson fucking Deluth anything. I’m going to be captain.”

Jace throws an arm wide. “Feel free to prove it.”

I hear him add, “… dumbass,” under his breath as he skates away.

I pull out my phone for what I promise myself will be the last time and text Daniel. Go check on shit at the house. I blink and then add, Please. Because I’m turning over a new leaf these days, or something like that.

He’s sitting in the stands behind Coach. I watch him read my message. A second later, he tosses me a thumbs up as he bounds down the stairs and walks out of the arena.

It’s not what I want, but it’s enough for now. Daniel’s on it. I can breathe and do my damn job.

I toss my phone on the bench and meet Carson in the center of the rink.

“How nice of you to join us,” he drawls.

“Shut up and play the fucking game, Deluth.”

“You sure you’re ready this time?”

I’m holding my stick so tight I think it might snap. Better the stick than Carson’s neck. Or, on second thought, maybe not. “Drop the puck before I fucking end you, Carson.”

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