Page 277 of Well Played

“Not the worst. I came straight from the airport like you said. Didn’t take too long to get from… however you say it.”

Coach laughs. “Birmingham?”

I pull a face. “That is not how it’s spelled. The stewardess nearly pissed herself with the way I pronounced it. Cochmouth wasn’t much better.”

“It’s coke-muth, not cock-mouth.” He chuckles. “Be glad you didn’t have to say you were going to Worcestershire.”

“What’s that?”

“You’ll learn. So, do you want to see the ice?”

“Hell yeah. I think this is the longest I’ve ever gone without skating.”

“Follow me.”

Wordlessly, I trail after Rhys, who’s practically bouncing on the balls of his feet with excitement. Can’t say it’s not infectious, but the ice does that to me, anyway.

As soon as Rhys pulls the doors open and the crisp, cold air hits me, I’m home. It’s huge. The lights are dazzling. Everything is perfect. All the weariness of the last two days of travelling, all the doubts, the anxiety…it all melts away. I breathe deep and fill my lungs with confidence. This was the right decision. This rink? I belong here.

“Seats three thousand,” Rhys tells me with a chuckle. “A little bigger than the one I saw you play in.”

It’s true. Even though I played for the Adelaide Adrenaline back home, Rhys first saw me play while he was on holiday in Brisbane. He watched our match against Brisbane Lightning and their tiny little arena only seats three hundred and fifty.

This place is insane by comparison. Even the ice itself seems larger somehow. I drop my kit bag at my feet, toe off my runners, and pull out my skates. Rhys watches me with amusement etched on his face, but I don’t care. I just want to get out on the ice.

“So, I’ve arranged for the team captain to meet us today.”

“Great. I can’t wait to meet my teammates. But yeah, meeting the captain first is probably a good idea.”

“Especially since we’re not teammates, yet.” A second kit bag thunks against the mat, and I spin to see a scowling man with his arms folded over his chest.

Huffing out a sigh, Rhys moves to stand between us. “Tarak Cook, meet Jace Miller, captain of the Cochmouth Cavaliers. Jace, this is the winger I told you about. Just got off the plane a few hours ago, so be nice.”

His glare doesn’t move from my face. “I’m always nice to rookies trying out for the team.”

I clench my jaw tight and try to remember to breathe. Punching my new captain would be a very bad move.

No way did this guy just call me a rookie. And why the hell did he just say “trying out”?

“I thought this was a done deal,” I say through gritted teeth. “My scholarship here depends on me playing for this team.”

Jace looks me up and down, assessing me. Joke’s on him. This hockey-butt is perfection. But if I can’t convince him of what I can do, I’m screwed. I can’t afford to go back homeempty-handed. Hell, if they rescind my scholarship offer, I can’t afford to go back home full stop.

“I really don’t give a fuck about your scholarship, rookie. All I care about is my team having the best players who earned the right to be here.”

Rhys places a hand on the young captain’s shoulder, but he doesn’t budge. “Jace, we talked about him?—”

“And theteamagreed he should try out like everybody else. I don’t want some convict, dingo-loving meathead, dragging us down because he impressed you while you were day drinking on your holiday!” he snaps, finally turning his fury on the coach who convinced me moving my life across the planet was a good idea.

“It’s fine.” I cut them both off from their arguing. It isn’t going to solve anything, and besides, this works out easier. They’ll never respect me unless I prove myself, so I may as well do it sooner rather than later. “I’ll jump through whatever hoops you want, doesn’t matter to me. By the time we’re done, you’ll be begging me to join you.”

A wry smile pulls at Jace’s mouth as he bends down, picking up his bag. “Big talk from a lad in his sushi socks.”

Ah, shit. This would’ve been way more convincing in my skates.

“Sushi is delicious. Now do you wanna see me skate or would you rather keep trash talking?”

Jace’s eyes flick to Rhys, who’s watching us like an impending car crash that’ll hit him in the face any second. “Actually, I don’t hate this guy.” Turning his attention back to me, he continues, “I’ve got two other guys trying out on Tuesday at eight. You’ve got ‘til then to get your head in our time zone and squeeze in a practice.”

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