Page 6 of On the Edge of Scandal

I went to BC because it was the obvious choice. Best women’s hockey program in the country. BC took Brody, too, though they hadn’t wooed him quite like they had me. And when people asked about it, he’d made it seem more like he went to BC to be with me instead of that he hadn’t gotten picked up by any of the better schools. Made my accomplishment feel . . . smaller somehow. Which doesn’t make sense, even now. But I can be oversensitive about some things, and maybe this is one of them.

But there’s something inside me that rebels against this expectation, thisobligationhe feels I have to him. As if he’s made me somehow and I owe him. I suspect, though I can’t say for certain, that he wouldn’t do the same for me if our positions were reversed. No, I think he’d apologize, kiss me and rub my biceps, but ultimately head into the village with his buddies, leaving me on the outside. He sure as fuck wouldn’t have remembered to get me a guest pass. Nor would I have expected him to.

I could leave him here, standing outside the gates. I could. But I’m not a cruel person, and the truth is I’ve become accustomed to sleeping with Brody at night, his big body taking up much of the bed, but producing comforting amounts of heat. On the nights I don’t sleep with him, I get cold. Plus I feel small when I sleep alone, and I don’t like feeling that way. Even if sharing a bed with him can sometimes feel like a contact sport, it makes me feel as though I take up space. Also, whatever else Brody is, he’s a good lay. Not always super concerned with me getting off, but I know well enough how to do it myself that it’s not so bad. Sometimes I enjoy feeling a little used. Not that I’d tell him that . . .

This moment isn’t about sex, though. It’s about loyalty, and being there for someone who has been in my life since I was fourteen. Teammates and coaches have come and gone—and yeah, I have my family, but when you leave home at fourteen and only see them once a month or so, they feel distant. It’s not cheap to come to the SIGs, and when you’ve got five younger siblings who all play a spendy sport like hockey, it’s no surprise my family couldn’t come out to Denver.

Brody isn’t distant. He’s right here, holding out his hand, and there’s no way I’m not going to take it. Then I’d be left standing out here in the cold, all by myself. I don’t like being alone.

“Hold on a second, I don’t want to take my equipment.” He looks annoyed but gestures for me to go ahead.

I flash my ID and run through the gate, catching up with my teammates who are straggling toward our group of suites in the village. “Hey, Jennie. Could you take my shit? Brody can’t get into the village, so I’m shacking up with him at his hotel tonight.”

Jennie nods, and takes my bag with a knowing smirk. “Yeah, yeah, go have sex with your golden god. I’ll be in my bunk with your stank-ass gear. Pick it up in the morning before practice, yeah?”

“No problem, and thank you. I owe you.” I give her a quick hug and race back to the gate where Brody’s still waiting, craning his neck to see around the guard who’s still blocking his way. Jeez, I was gone for two minutes. Give me a break.

Right before I step through, my gaze is drawn to the side of the gate to a figure standing in the shadows. Not in a lurking way like some creeper, in a quiet way. Coach is like that. Quiet. Watchful. Thoughtful.

He raises a hand, and after a beat of hesitation because I’m not up for another lecture, I head in his direction. He’s got his backpack over both shoulders, and it’s so dorky. He’s like thirty and he still has a backpack? Which he wears over a suit? Anyway, he’s standing there looking out of place, and he runs a hand through his dark hair. It curls when it gets a little longer than it is now but he got it cut right before we came to Denver.

“What’s up, Coach?”

Please don’t yell at me again, I don’t think I could take it.All I want to do is go to bed, rest my head on Brody’s shoulder, and listen to him sleep. Sooner or later, his deep breaths will overtake my anxious ones and I’ll have to close my eyes, too. That’s the plan, anyway.

“I wanted to say . . .” A line forms between his eyebrows, and his mouth pinches. He shakes it off, though, shifts his weight and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I’m not sorry about what I said to you earlier. I meant every word of it.”

“Okay . . .” Is this supposed to be a pep talk? Because it sucks.

“But I forgot something.”

Great. Something to make me feel even worse, I’m sure. I cross my arms over my chest and wait for it, but nothing comes. He’s looking at me, though, with his clear eyes. They make me feel naked somehow, like he can see right through me. Sometimes, that makes me feel good. I don’t have to explain stuff to him because he just knows. But right about now? I want to hide. And still he waits. What is this, some kind of power play? But Coach isn’t Brody. Conversations with him aren’t a battle. Which is when I realize he’s waiting for mypermission.

I’m not psyched about giving it to him, but he doesn’t look mad anymore so he’s probably not going to yell. No, he never yells, unless it’s in the service of getting us psyched up. But it doesn’t look like I’m in for another round of verbal wrist-slapping, either. “Yeah, like what?”

“Like—” He lifts a hand, and I think he’s going to lay it on my shoulder, maybe squeeze. I’d like that. Physical contact has a way of soothing me sometimes when words can’t. But right before he touches down, he drops his hand to his side and shakes his head again. Dude’s going to give himself whiplash if he keeps this up. “Like you are one of the best players I’ve had the pleasure to coach in my career and I’m really proud of you. I know what you did out there tonight wasn’t your idea. I think I even understand why you did it. I’m not giving you a pass, and I’m not telling you it’s okay—you were dead wrong and I wasn’t kidding about consequences. But what I also should have said was that you’re an exceptional athlete, and you don’t need to break the rules to stand out. In addition to your athleticism, you also have great leadership skills and an impressive work ethic. Don’t sacrifice your integrity for anything—or anyone—and you’ll be golden.”

Oh. It’s a mixture of a lecture and the nicest things anyone’s ever said to me. I’m not quite sure what to do with it. Coach scrubs a hand through his hair again, and I get the feeling he’s not quite sure what to do with it, either. It’s not usual to see him so uncertain, but I kind of don’t mind it. Makes him seem more human. Closer, when he keeps his distance from us in some ways.

“Okay. Thanks, Coach.”

He smiles, tight and pained, and shifts his weight again, wincing as he does. “Yeah. Well, go get some sleep, and I’ll see you at practice in the morning. Don’t be late.”

“I’ll be early,” I counter, and his smile gets bigger but only on one side, like half of him likes it, but the other half isn’t so sure.

“Sure.”

I kind of want to hug him, which I usually only do after winning a game, but didn’t tonight. It feels off somehow, though. Too intimate without all my gear between us, and it suddenly hits me that Coach is . . . well, he’s a man. Which, duh, but I never really thought of him like that before because he’s just Coach and it doesn’t really matter what’s in his pants because . . . it doesn’t matter. It’s not like you play hockey with your dick. Now, however, I’m aware of the fact that he is, in fact, a guy, and it’s making me stupid and awkward.

Instead of opening my mouth and saying something embarrassing, I lift a hand and offer a brief wave before I head to where Brody’s waiting, his foot practically tapping. He slings an arm around my shoulder and we start to walk away, but before we’re completely out of sight, I look over my shoulder. Coach is watching us, and his gaze is full of . . . something intense, but I’m not quite sure what.

Chapter Five

Ash

The first game was frustrating as hell, but it’s over now. All the girls are suited up and getting ready to go out on the rink and kick some serious ass against China. The ripples from Bronwyn boarding the Norwegian player have smoothed out, and it’s fun to watch my team. Not only are they great players by themselves, but something happens when we put them all together. Some gorgeous alchemy. They’ve really solidified as a team, and it makes me stupidly proud and happy to see it.

My girls, my team, and tonight they’re going to play right. Come what may, they’re going to leave this arena with their heads held high, because I’ll goddamn make sure of it. Before we leave the locker room, they crowd in together, shoulder and hip pads knocking, skates bumping up against each other. Their faces are eager, eyes bright, and damn do they look ready to play.

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