Page 88 of Triplet Babies for Pucking Christmas

Nobody answers him, but the tension in the room spikes. I glance over at Carter, who’s sitting quietly in the corner, not saying a damn word. That’s not like him. He’s usually the loudest guy in here, cracking jokes or riling everyone up.

“Carter,” I call out. “You’ve been awfully quiet. You know something we don’t?”

He shrugs, not even looking up. “What’s there to say? It’s a shit deal, but it’s done. Nothing we can do about it.”

“That’s it?” I snap, stepping toward him. “You’re just gonna roll over and take it?”

“Hey,” Finn cuts in, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Cool it, Troy. We’re all pissed, all right?”

“Yeah, well, some of us are more pissed than others,” I mutter, yanking my shoulder free.

Coach claps his hands again, louder this time. “All right, enough. I get it—you’re angry. So am I. But we’ve got practice to get through. Let’s focus on that, and I’ll keep working on getting us some answers.”

“Practice?” Declan repeats, his tone full of disbelief. “You expect us to just skate around like nothing’s happening?”

“Yes, I do,” Coach says firmly. “Because sitting here bitching about it isn’t gonna change anything.”

The room falls silent again, but the tension’s still thick. Reluctantly, we all start suiting up, muttering under our breaths. I glance over at Finn as we lace up our skates.

“This is the worst-case scenario, isn’t it?” I ask quietly.

Finn nods grimly. “Yeah. It really is.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

Troy

Out on the ice, the mood’s just as shitty as it was in the locker room. Nobody’s talking, and when they do, it’s short and snappy. Passes are sloppy, shots are off, and tempers are flaring.

“Declan, wake the hell up!” I yell as he misses yet another pass.

“Don’t start with me, Troy,” he snaps back, skating past me.

I grit my teeth, trying to hold it together. But it’s hard when everyone’s so on edge. Even Coach looks like he’s ready to throw his clipboard.

“All right, bring it in!” he finally shouts, blowing his whistle.

We all skate to the bench, forming a loose huddle. Coach looks us over, his eyes hard.

“I know this isn’t what you wanted to hear,” he says, his tone firm but understanding. “But this isn’t the end. Not yet. We’vegot a season to finish, and I expect every single one of you to give it everything you’ve got.”

Nobody says anything, but I can see the fight still simmering in their eyes. We’re not done. Not by a long shot.

“Now, get back out there,” Coach barks, stepping back.

We break, heading back onto the ice. It’s still tense, but at least we’re moving. And as I take my position, I make a silent promise to myself.

This merger might be happening, but I’ll be damned if I let it destroy this team.

The rest of practice is just as rough, and that is putting that nicely. It’s like everyone forgot how to play hockey.

Axel delivers a slap shot that sails so wide it smacks into the glass. Finn’s skating like he didn’t sleep last night, and Ryan looks more interested in the ceiling than the puck. Carter’s hanging back, barely engaged, which is starting to piss me off.

“Are we playing hockey or auditioning for the circus?” I yell, slamming my stick against the ice.

Finn glares at me. “Why don’t you show us how it’s done then, Adams?”

“I would if I didn’t think I’d break my neck from all this half-assed skating!” I shoot back.

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