Page 65 of Love You Too

“Nothing.” Skinner reacts like he’s looking at a butterfly, not more than two-hundred pounds of muscle and testosterone. It’s why he makes a good enforcer. Nothing scares him, and he doesn’t mind checking an opponent for even a shred of impropriety.

“Not nothing if you feel the need to correct me. So be a man and tell me to my face.”

“‘Inferring’ means you’re taking information from a source. ‘Implying’ means you’re trying to prove a point. Get a dictionary.” Skinner’s tone is icy. Poking the bear is just plain dumb.

“Enough, Skinner,” I tell him, moving past him toward the locker room, intentionally putting some distance between Grimm and him. The last thing we need is a fistfight among guys on our own team, and tempers always run hot after a loss. I hear Skinner let out a low whistle behind me and I ignore it. Not getting into it with him.

Fuck. This is on me. Whatever’s going on with Skinner didn’t get fixed over one dinner. I need to put in more time with him. Stay one hundred percent focused on the game. I shouldn’t have to watch the team rack up losses to learn that lesson.

I slam the door to my locker and debate going to see Trix. She’ll make me feel better, but I don’t deserve to feel better when I’m not getting these guys where they need to be.

“This isn’t working.”

I close my eyes and pray that the words don’t mean what I think they do.

“What’s not working?” I keep my tone light and glance around the locker room as though there’s some new detail I’ll notice. There’s nothing. Same purple painted lockers with our names on them. Same team logo of a fierce-looking otter painted on the back wall. Same benches where we sit and shoot the shit after a great game. My coach tips his head toward the office next door, and I follow him until he closes the door behind us.

“You’re not rallying the guys. I’m concerned you’re not up to the job.”

I know my berth as team captain teeters on the edge of every loss we suffer. This shouldn’t come as news. But it stings to hear the words out loud. I’ve always been a guy who knew how to put the team first.

“It’s a chicken-and-egg thing. The worse our bonding gets, the worse we do out there, and the worse we do, the more guys start sniping at each other.” I’m telling him things he already knows. It’s my job to go above and beyond to fix these things, and nothing I’m doing is working. I need to do better.

But at what cost?

I’m not willing to give up the life I’m building with Trix, but I need to be the captain of this team. Ever since my stunt in front of the glass, my teammates have been calling me Loverboy. Not a good look for a guy who’s supposed to be a leader, but who among us hasn’t felt the conflict between the team and life outside the sport? Maybe finding balance is a matter of putting the right things first at the right time.

“I know. It’s not easy; I’m not saying it is. But the point isn’t to make excuses for what’s not working. The point is to find something new that will work. Where’s your head? Are you focused? Can you do what I’m asking?”

“Yes. Absolutely. I can do it.” I perk up. Maybe he’s not going to shitcan me for our team’s terrible performance and my poor leadership skills. I can only hope for another shot at righting the ship, but if I were him, I’d probably find a replacement. “I haven’t exhausted all the tools at my disposal, and there’s still time to get us back on track. I feel confident,” I say.

I pick up a puck from the desk and use it as a stress toy, squeezing it when there’s no give at all. I’ve had a stick in my hand and a puck at my feet since I was a kid, and this should be the high point of my career—team captain of a team with such a stacked roster that the Stanley Cup is practically ours to lose.Maybe that’s a large part of the problem. We’re taking things for granted when other teams are going hard because they have to.

Barrington rubs a hand over the thinning strands of gray atop his head. When he started coaching this team, he had a full head of dark hair. The sport is hard on everyone’s bodies, even those who don’t suit up. “Listen, I named you a captain because you’re the best. You have more experience as a player than most of these guys, and I have confidence in you, but I have to ask, is everything okay outside of the sport? Your relationship taking its toll?”

I could tell him about the baby, pull him in as a father figure and ask him what the hell to do about a woman whose heart I broke in order to clear the decks so I could play hockey. I need to figure out how to do my job and also do everything to avoid breaking it again. I could talk to him. I…should?

No.

I can’t let him see me as distracted. Or human, for that matter. I’ve clearly been prioritizing my personal life over hockey. I need to do better. I warned Trix that I may not be able to hack it as a multitasker. She knows this about me. She’ll understand.

Almost as if on cue, my phone buzzes with a call from her. I send it to voicemail and turn off my phone.

All the team wants is a guy who can do a job, and I need to make sure I’m that guy.

“I’m good, Coach. Nothing to write home about,” I say, flashing him a smile I hope seems convincing.

He watches me, blinking slowly like he’s waiting for me to say more. I don’t intend to, but the longer he stares at me like that, the more unnerved I feel. So I return his stare with a steely gaze, reassuring him that I’m a capable captain. I’m fully focused.

Now, I just need to do everything in my power to be just that.

CHAPTER 28

Beatrix

Me: Hey, how’s it going?

Me: Hey, congrats on the win!

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