Page 6 of Checks & Bonds

"Good luck with that," he replied, his tone lighter now. "Just remember—time's ticking."

I nodded absently and headed toward the exit. The cool air outside hit me like a refreshing wave as I stepped out into the courtyard. My thoughts raced as I considered my next move.

Freya deserved better than this mess—better than me being tangled up in Ravenwood's legacy and traditions. As much as I wanted to break free from all of it, I couldn't shake the feeling that my choices were already limited by forces beyond my control.

But one thing was clear: I had no intention of choosing anyone for this ritual—not Freya, not anyone else.

I stepped out of the library and into the crisp spring air, feeling an immediate sense of relief. The sky was a brilliant blue, and the campus grounds were alive with activity. Students sprawled across the lawn, books and laptops scattered around them like modern-day picnics. Birds chirped in the trees lining the cobblestone paths, their melodies adding to the hum of conversation and laughter.

I started my walk toward Pandora's Box. My school bag hung over my shoulder, a reminder that I had to endure one more quarter before summer. Before the wedding.

The path wound through manicured gardens bursting with color—tulips, daffodils, and cherry blossoms painting the scene in vivid hues. I passed by the old clock tower, its hands inching closer to practice time.

The air smelled of freshly cut grass and blooming flowers, a sharp contrast to the musty library I'd just escaped from. I took a deep breath, letting the scents wash away some of the tension coiled in my chest. The rhythmic crunch of gravel under my boots provided a steady backdrop to my thoughts.

Students waved and called out greetings as I walked by. "Hey, Mathers! Good luck in the playoffs!" one shouted from a study group gathered under a large oak tree.

I gave them a nod and a quick smile but didn't slow my pace. My mind was still tangled in Collins' words and the pressure of what lay ahead. The only thing that could clear it was the ice.

The path curved around a small pond where ducks paddled lazily across the water's surface. Their serene movements contrasted sharply with my own restless energy. I quickened my pace, eager to reach Pandora's Box.

Finally, I saw it—the rink's sleek, modern facade standing out against the more traditional architecture of the campus buildings. Its glass walls reflected the surrounding greenery, making it look almost like an illusion.

I pushed open the heavy glass door and stepped inside. The cool air inside hit me like a welcome embrace, instantly soothing some of my inner turmoil. The sound of skates carving into ice echoed faintly from within.

"Mathers!" Coach Morgan's voice boomed from across the lobby. "You're fucking late!"

I flashed him an apologetic grin as I made my way to the locker room. "Got held up," I said, dropping my bag on a bench.

Coach rolled his eyes but didn't press further.

As I laced up my skates, I felt some of the day's weight lift off my shoulders. Out here on the ice, everything else could wait.

Coach Morgan leaned against the wall, his leather jacket creaking as he crossed his arms. His presence dominated the locker room, a mix of authority and menace. He had a piercing gaze and gravelly voice that could make even the toughest guy on the team flinch.

"All right, assholes, listen up," he began, his eyes sweeping over us as we finished lacing up our skates and adjusting our gear. "Last game? You played like a bunch of pussies. What the hell happened out there?"

I glanced around at my teammates. Keaton, who was sitting next to me, shrugged and muttered under his breath, "Wasn't exactly our best night."

Morgan's eyes zeroed in on him. "Damn right it wasn't. You let their fucking defense run circles around you. No more of that shit."

He started pacing, his boots thudding against the floor with each step. "Kennedy you missed two golden opportunities right in front of the net. What's your excuse?"

Levi Kennedy looked up from taping his stick, a hint of defiance in his eyes. "They had a solid goalie."

"Solid?" Morgan barked a laugh. "He’s good, but he's not unbeatable. You hesitated. That split second cost us."

Kennedy clenched his teeth and went back to taping.

"And defense," Morgan continued, turning his gaze to me and Keaton. "You two were like Swiss cheese out there—full of holes."

I clenched my jaw but didn't respond. I knew he was right.

"You gotta tighten the fuck up like a virgin's pussy," Morgan went on, his voice carrying a mix of frustration and determination. "Communicate better. Cover each other’s asses."

Keaton rolled his eyes but kept quiet this time.

"We've got another shot coming up," Morgan said, his tone softening just a bit. "You’ve got the skill. You’ve got the talent. Now you just need to get your heads outta your asses and play like it."

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