Page 37 of Ice Melts

Travis’s jaw tightened. This wasn’t just about hockey anymore. It was about trust. About accountability. About not letting one bad decision define them.

They ran through the rest of practice with gritted teeth and forced focus, but the weight of everything unsaid hung heavy in the air.

After practice, the locker room was unusually quiet. The usual post-practice banter was replaced with the soft sound of gear being packed away and skates being unstrapped.

Travis sat on the bench, staring at his gloves, before finally speaking up.

“We need to talk.”

The guys looked up, some pausing mid-motion, others pretending not to hear.

But Travis wasn’t letting this slide.

“We’re three games from the Stanley Cup,” he said, his voice steady but firm. “But it doesn’t matter if we’re not playing like a team. And right now? We’re not.”

Jake sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, man, we get it. But it’s not like we can change what happened.”

“No,” Travis agreed, standing up. “But we can change what happens next.”

His eyes landed on Logan, who met his gaze with a stubborn tilt of his chin.

“We’ve all made mistakes,” Travis continued. “But you’ve got to own up to them. If you’re not willing to take responsibility, then you don’t deserve to be on this ice.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and sharp.

Logan clenched his jaw, but after a long moment, he nodded. It wasn’t an apology, but it was something.

Travis looked around at the rest of the team. “We’ve got a choice. We can let this define us, or we can fight for the Cup like we’ve fought for everything else. But it starts with accountability.”

The room was silent, but Travis could feel the shift—the weight of his words settling in, the guys realizing that this wasn’t just about winning anymore.

It was about doing the right thing.

After the guys had cleared out, Travis made his way to Coach’s office, his heart pounding in his chest.

Coach was sitting behind his desk, reviewing notes from practice, but he looked up when Travis knocked on the doorframe.

“Got a minute?” Travis awaited in the doorway.

Coach nodded, setting his papers aside. “What’s on your mind?”

Travis stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He took a deep breath, then dove in.

“It’s about the team,” he started. “About what happened.”

Coach’s expression hardened slightly, but he didn’t interrupt.

“We can’t ignore it,” Travis continued. “The guys who were at the bando, who got caught… they need to be held accountable.” He studied the coach for a minute. “Even if it means missing the finals.”

Coach leaned back in his chair, studying Travis carefully. “You know what that would mean, right? We’re down key players. Our chances?—”

“I know,” Travis cut in, his voice firm. “But winning doesn’t mean anything if we’re not doing it the right way.”

Coach was silent for a long moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considered Travis’s words.

Finally, he nodded.

“You’re right,” he said quietly. “Accountability has to start somewhere. We have three games until the cup.”

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