Page 23 of Faking the Face Off

I grunt in response, focusing on my plate while trying not to let my mind spiral. There’s no going back now. The photo’s out there, and soon, everyone—including the Renegades’ owner—will see it.

Here’s hoping it works.

The sharpclangof a puck hitting the boards echoes in my head like a damn alarm bell. This game is adding to a pile of mistakes and losses, and it needs to stop. Another missed opportunity, another shift where I was a step too slow or my pass was off. By the time I finally slump onto the bench in the locker room, I’m pretty sure my stick is the only thing keeping me upright.

The room’s filled with the low hum of chatter, the scrape of skates on the floor, the hiss of water bottles. It’s background noise, but it feels loud—like I can’t shut it out. My teammates are all around me, but they feel miles away.

“Home games shouldn’t feel this hard,” Dixon grumbles as he slams his locker shut.

I tug my helmet off and lean forward, elbows on my knees, trying to focus on my breathing instead of the fact that tonight’s game feels like it’s spiraling out of control. My legs are heavy, myhands can’t seem to find the puck, and it’s like every mistake is written across the ice in neon lights.

And I’m the only one who knows why.

A shadow falls over me, and I glance up to find Ben standing there, arms crossed. His expression’s neutral, but his eyes...yeah, he sees right through me.

“Come on,” he says, jerking his head toward the hallway.

I hesitate, glancing around the room. No one else looks up, but I can feel the attention anyway. A couple of guys give me side-eye, but they don’t say anything. With a sigh, I push myself up and follow him out of the room.

We stop just outside the locker room doors, and he leans against the wall, looking at me like he’s waiting for me to say something. When I don’t, he crosses his arms again.

“Alright, Ollie. What’s going on with you tonight?”

“Nothing.” I shrug, avoiding his gaze. “Just...off, I guess.”

“Off?” His voice sharpens, and I feel the heat of his stare. “You’ve been off for a while now. It’s not just tonight.”

I flinch, but he’s not wrong. My play hasn’t exactly been stellar lately, and tonight’s just the cherry on top of the crap sundae.

Coach sighs and rubs a hand over his face. “Look, I get it. Everyone has rough patches. But this? This isn’t just a bad game, Ollie. Your head’s not in it. And if your head’s not in it, you’re no good to this team.”

His words hit harder than I want to admit, and I bite down on the inside of my cheek to keep my frustration in check.

“I’m trying,” I mutter, barely loud enough for him to hear.

“I know you are.” His tone softens, just enough to take the sting out. “But trying isn’t enough if you’re not willing to figure out what’s holding you back.”

I glance at him, surprised by the shift. Ben isn’t exactly the hand-holding type, but there’s something about the way he’s looking at me now—like he actually wants me to figure this out.

“Whatever’s going on,” he continues, “you need to deal with it. Because if you don’t, it’s going to cost you more than just a game.”

It’s like he knows, but he can’t. Ben’s never been one to mince words, and I know for a fact he has no time for Jimmy. He’s not a fan of anyone in the offices getting in our way or poking around our business, but he does have mad respect for Sutton. But only I know what is really going on, and I feel caught. Caught between wanting to tell my coach but also protecting my friend and her dad.

We stay like this, with Ben letting his words hang in the air for a second before pushing off the wall. “You’ve got ten minutes to pull it together before we head back out there. Use it.”

I nod, but the words don’t come. He pats my shoulder once and heads back into the locker room, leaving me alone in the hallway.

I press my back against the wall and close my eyes, letting the weight of his words sink in. He’s right. I know he’s right. But knowing it and fixing it are two very different things.

This isn’t just about the game. It’s about Anna, the Renegades, my entire career. It feels like everything is riding on me figuring this out, and for the first time in a long time, I’m not sure I can.

But I have to try.

I push off the wall and head back into the locker room, shoving the doubts aside. Ten minutes to pull it together. If nothing else, I can give the team that much.

The second we step back onto the ice, the roar of the crowd slams into me. It’s electric, but I’m still fighting to shake offthe weight from earlier. Coach’s words are ringing in my head, bouncing around like pucks in a bad drill.

Pull it together, Ollie. Focus.

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