Page 154 of Offside Devil

But Zane just squeezes my hand one last time and pushes me gently towards the door.

“Close it behind you,” Coach Popov orders, settling into his desk.

The office is large and absolutely stuffed with trophies, ribbons, and plaques. I don’t think there is a hockey tournament on planet Earth that this man hasn’t won.

I cast one last desperate look at Zane through the door before I push it closed. Then I turn around and… stand there.

Finally, he points to the chair across from his desk. “You can sit down, Mira. I’m not as scary as I sound.”

“Oh, you don’t sound scary.” That’s a lie—my throat is clogged with fear. The words come out strangled. “I just don’t know what I’m doing here.”

He leans over his desk, his bushy eyebrows nearly touching his graying hairline. “How has Zane been?”

“I don’t—” I shake my head. “I don’t know what you mean. He’s been fine.”

“He’s fine at practices and on the ice, but that was the last domino to fall last time. How has he been outside of hockey? Have you noticed anything?”

“He has a clean drug test. He can show it to you if you want to?—”

“What I want is to know what you think.” He folds his hands in front of him. “You weren’t around the last time things got bad, but your boyfriend had us all fooled for a while. You’re the only person who sees him every day. You’re someone Zane trusts and cares about. I want to know what you think.”

There’s that word again.

Zane trusts me. He cares about me.

My throat is suddenly clogged with a very different emotion.

“I think Zane is an amazing father,” I say. “He’s a devoted teammate and a caring boyfriend. He’s… He’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

Coach Popov leans back in his chair with a sigh and a scowl. Suddenly, he barks, “You two can come in!”

I jolt just as the door opens behind me.

Zane comes in, looking from me to his coach as if he might actually challenge Popov to a fight if he upset me.

I give him a smile and he places a hand on my shoulder, standing just behind me. “What’s this about, Coach?”

“Ask your sponsor.” He tips his head to Owen. “He called this meeting.”

Zane snaps his gaze to him and Owen just lifts his hands in surrender. “You gave me an alibi, and I needed to check it out.”

A deep growl rumbles through Zane’s chest. “You already have a clean drug test.”

“Which you’ve faked before,” he snaps back. “I learned my lessons the hard way. I dinnae mean to make the same mistakes again.”

“So, what?” Zane turns to Coach Popov. “Am I here to swear on a fucking Bible? Whip one out. I’ll put my hand on it and be done with this. I’m not doing drugs.”

“That’s what I’m here to help you prove.” Coach turns his laptop around to face us and taps the space bar.

Black and white security footage starts to play and Zane’s fingers dig into my shoulder. “What is this?”

“It’s… it’s us,” I breathe.

I know Zane knows that. He has eyes just like everyone else in this room. And just like everyone else, his are trained on the screen… where there is a bird’s-eye view of Zane fucking me on the arena roof.

The camera’s night sight isn’t amazing and it’s just grainy enough that you can’t make out my bits and bobs, but that doesn’t do a damn thing to stop the raging hot blush that is creeping up my chest and neck every second this goes on.

“You wanted a time stamp,” Popov says evenly to Owen. “Here’s your time stamp.”

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