Page 20 of Ice-Cold Truth

I nod, but a nagging voice in the back of my mind whispers that there’s more to Jack’s outburst than just a bad game and some drunken hecklers. As we part ways for the night, I wonder what demons Jack is wrestling with—and if he’ll ever let me in enough to help him face them.

Chapter 9: Jack

The locker room is deserted this early, except for Coach Matthews, who is waiting expectantly for me. The jackass called me in far too early, and I’m sure he wants to hand me a piece of my ass for missing the shot last night that cost us the exhibition game.

His imposing figure stands with arms crossed, gray hair neatly trimmed, and sharp brown eyes boring into me as I approach. The lines on his face seem deeper than usual, no doubt from the stress of the impending season.

“Ford.” His gruff voice cuts through the silence. “Care to explain that pathetic display last night?”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “My shoulder gave out on that shot, Coach. It’s been bothering me for months. Ever since I injured it at the end of last season. I’ve mentioned it…”

Matthews scowls, clearly displeased with my response. “You’re the captain of this team. I expect more from you.”

Frustration bubbles within me, but I keep my tone measured. “With all due respect, I think I need to see a specialist about thisinjury. The team doctor keeps giving me pain meds, but it’s not getting better.”

He shakes his head dismissively. “Out of the question. We need you on the ice, not sidelined for surgery. You’ll play through the pain if you have to.”

My jaw clenches at his callous disregard for my well-being. “And if it gets worse? What then?”

He steps closer, trying to loom over me. “Then you’ll man up and take whatever medication is necessary to keep you playing. I’ll have the team doctor write you a stronger prescription.”

I want to argue further, but it’s pointless. This man cares more about winning than the health of his players. Vince Halstrom’s career-ending injury is proof of that. Swallowing my pride, I give a curt nod. “Fine. I’ll play through it for now.”

He grins as if he’s won some twisted victory. “That’s what I like to hear. We can’t afford any distractions this season, Ford. We’re defending the championship, for Christ’s sake.”

“Don’t worry, Coach. I’m all in for the team.” Just not for you, you jackass.

Matthews claps a heavy hand on my shoulder, sending a jolt of pain through the injured area. I wince inwardly but maintain my stoic expression.

“Glad to hear it. Get out there and show me what you’re made of.” With that, he turns and strides away, leaving me alone in the empty locker room.

I sink onto the bench, cradling my throbbing shoulder. Deep down, I know this injury needs proper treatment, not just pain medication to mask the symptoms, but going against Matthews’ wishes could jeopardize everything for which I’ve worked.

I’ll play through the pain, gritting my teeth and pushing forward. Defending the championship is all that matters this season. I can deal with the consequences later, whatever they might be.

As my teammates begin to trickle in, I steel myself for a grueling practice, determined to prove my worth on the ice. Failure isn’t an option and never has been.

***

That afternoon, I step through the door of our apartment, muscles aching from another taxing practice. The scent of Elyse’s familiar perfume wafts through the air, and I spot her curled up on the couch, brow furrowed as she pores over a stack of documents.

She glances up at the sound of my entrance, green eyes widening slightly. “Jack, you’re back early.”

I nod, dropping my gear bag with a thud. “Coach let us out a bit sooner today.”

An awkward silence stretches between us, the weight of last night’s argument still hanging heavy. I rake a hand through my damp hair, steeling myself to break the tension. “Look, Elyse, about last night…” My voice trails off as her gaze shifts to the bottle of painkillers I set on the coffee table.

“Are those for your shoulder?” She gestures toward the plastic bottle, concern etched across her delicate features.

My shoulders tighten defensively. “It’s nothing. Just some meds to help with the pain.”

Elyse worries her lower lip, a habit I’ve come to find endearing. “Jack, we need to talk about something.”

I sink onto the couch beside her, bracing myself for whatever she’s about to say. “What is it?”

“Did you know Vince Halstrom is suing the Firebirds and Reginald Mathews?”

I tense. “I’ve heard something about it, but it’s not the talk of the locker room.” My gaze narrows. “How do you know about it?” Dread sits heavily in my stomach.

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