Page 36 of Wicked Games

I gnash my teeth. Worst fucking timing. But I follow him to his office, especially if it means I’ll get back on the ice sooner.

He’s allowed me—no, required me—to attend practices. I’m the captain. I have an example to set. But games, I’m not allowed anywhere near the rink. Not until my suspension is up.

“Sit.” Coach takes hockey seriously. His whole career rides on it. If one of us screws up, we’re out. It’s how it’s always been. He sits across from me, leaning his elbows on the desk. It’s covered in papers, but he doesn’t seem to care. The whole office is organized chaos.

“You’re slipping,” he tells me.

I stare at him, unsure of how to answer. On one hand, I’ve already slipped pretty far. On the other, I’ve made sure to stay out of trouble since my fight with Ian.

“Margo Wolfe,” he says.

I stiffen. “What about her?”

“Is she going to fuck with your head? You’ve never gotten into a fight with your teammate before, and I know how tensions can soar around a pretty girl. Teenagers are brutal, but you’re notjusta teenager. You’re the captain.”

School royalty.

That weight sits heavy on my shoulders at all times. I can’t exist without being reminded of the eyes on me. Not just fellow students. Teachers. Parents.Everyone.

“You’re not telling me anything new.” I lean back. Fuck Coach and thinking this sport gives him free rein over my life. Over what I do with Margo. “Wolfe isn’t a problem.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh? So, you weren’t about to skip class. Maybe go see the girl who was just checked out of school by her foster father?”

He knows too much. But still—whose business is it if I want to leave?

“No one fucking cares, Coach.”

He lunges across the desk and grabs my shirt collar, jerking me up. “Don’t play that game with me.”

I glance down at his fingers curled in the fabric at my throat.

We clash sometimes. He’s one of the original hockey royalty—the original asshole who ruled Emery-Rose when he was a student. The team has long acknowledged that he has a temper to match his infamy.

This, however, isnothing.

“Fine,” I grit out. “Wolfe and I are in a relationship. But she’s not a problem.”

“I need smooth sailing from you,” Coach says. “From now until graduation. Impress the scouts, and it’s your choice of schools, right?”

He releases me, and I slowly retake my seat. He does the same. I adjust my shirt while he watches.

“Where are you applying?”

I lift one shoulder. “Mom wants me to go for Harvard.”

He snorts. “And?”

“And it’s an option.” I’m not set on it.Boston. It seems so far away.

“Deadlines are approaching,” he says. “You toured schools over the summer, got an idea of some you’d go to if college hockey doesn’t work out.”

“Have you been talking to my mother?” My anger is waking up again. How dare she call my coach? “Is that what prompted this whole fucking thing?”

He rolls his eyes.

“Coach.”

“Cool it, Caleb. I can see the smoke coming out of your ears.”

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