Today’s practice is much like any other, except for the underlying unease. Zach’s agitated, which isn’t usually his style. His usual patience is strained. He barks orders with an edge in his voice that cuts through the cold air like a razor.
“Granger, move your feet faster. You’re dragging ass out there,” he yells, his voice laced with frustration and anger. “Come on, pick up the pace.”
I grit my teeth, pushing myself harder, but no matter what I do, it isn’t enough. Zach keeps picking at me, singling me out, finding fault with every move I make. I try to cut him some slack, wondering how I’d feel if someone with my past made a move on my sister.
“That’s sloppy, Granger. Keep your stick on the ice.” He yells when I slip up on an easy shot. “What the hell are you doing?”
He’s relentless. My anger bubbles beneath the surface, nearing the boiling point. This isn’t about my playing. It’s personal and unfair even under the circumstances. His tone grates on me, a reminder of every time my father expected perfection, every time he dismissed my efforts. Zach’s words add gasoline to a fire that’s smoldered for ages.
Coach blows the whistle for a five-minute break. I lower my head and catch my breath, trying to keep my temper in check.
“Get your head in the game, Granger.” Zach stops abruptly, sending a puff of ice particles across my skates. His brows furrow as he gestures emphatically at my chest. “You’re here to win games. Keep your focus.”
“I’m running drills just as hard as the next guy,” I seethe. “Get out of my face.”
“If you’d keep your temper in check and stay away from my sister, I wouldn’t be in your face.” Zach’s jaw tightens, his eyes blazing with anger. “Stay away from Lauren. She has a future ahead of her. You’ll only screw it up.”
The accusation stings more than I’d like to admit. Loyalty to his family comes first, but that doesn’t soften the blow. Despite our friendship, he doesn’t trust me. I’m an unapologetic horndog with a hot temper. That’s two strikes against me. He thinks I’m not good enough for her. And maybe he’s right, but hearing it outright makes my blood boil.
“You think I’d hurt her? That this is just a game for me?” I snap back, my voice low, edged with anger.
“You’re a distraction she doesn’t need, and the team doesn’t need,” He spits the words, fierce and threatening.
His words cut deep, feeding into my worst fears about myself. But they also ignite a firestorm of protectiveness. I care about Lauren, him, and this team more than he knows. The implication that I’m not good enough, that I’m bad for her, for the team I defend and protect every time we hit the ice, pushes me to the brink. I’m not the sum total of every mistake I’ve ever made.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I spit out through clenched teeth. We stand toe to toe, on the brink of blows. “She means something to me. I won’t back down.”
“If she means so much to you, then you know she doesn’t need to get caught up in your mess.” Zach puffs his chest out, nearly brushing against mine.
He’s trying to get a rise out of me, but I won’t prove him right. I won’t succumb to the urge to fight this battle with my fists.
“Get out of my face,” I growl, standing my ground.
“Stay the hell away from her.” Zach leans into me, bumping against my chest. “I won’t tell you again.”
“Then what are you going to do, punch me?” I pop my neck and bump against his chest, knocking him back a few inches.
“Don’t tempt me.” He bumps back.
My blood boils, and I snap. I lunge at him, knocking him to the ground. Zach recovers quickly and scrambles to his feet. He rushes at me with a fierceness in his eyes I’ve only ever seen once, when a Predator started talking trash about Madison, Zach’s girlfriend, in the middle of a close game. No one judged him for starting that fight––not like they do me.
We grapple, shoving and swinging at each other. I lose my bucket, and then the gloves come off. I throw a right jab to his face, knocking him back. He lurches forward and cuts across my jaw, hammering me with his fist. Teammates surround us, grabbing at our arms, pulling us apart, but tempers flare, and we both fight back.
Graves and Donte pin my arms and drag me off of Zach. Barrett blocks Zach from lunging at me while Conrad guards him with an arm hooked around the crook of his elbow.
“Enough.” Coach blows his whistle. His voice is gruff and filled with anger. “Everyone in the locker room, now.” He pauses and points at the two of us. “You two–pick this shit up on the double.”
I yank away from Graves and Donte as I catch my breath. I’m still angry, but it’s lost its edge. Zach glares at me, huffing to catch his breath.
“You’ll never change.” Zach turns his back to me and begins clearing the ice of facemasks, gloves, and gear.
The familiar feeling of failure prickles in my gut. This isn’t just about Lauren anymore. It’s about proving that I’m more than the image everyone has of me. I owe it to Lauren, Zach, and my team. Most of all, I owe it to myself.
CHAPTER 7
ULTIMATUMS
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