Page 125 of Iced Out

Not me, though.

I’m too busy reliving what might well be the best night of my life, and not just because of the trophy sitting in the front of the bus beside Coach. It’s got a lot to do with it, but the guy fast asleep with his head against my shoulder is the main reason.

Just as well that he’s getting some rest. He played his ass off tonight, and I have plans to keep him up for the rest of it once we’re locked in a bedroom.

Who it belongs to and whoever else overhears, I don’t fucking care.

Of course, we still have a lot to talk about, even if he doesn’t want me continuously apologizing to him for the next twenty years for everything Braxton and I did to cause his suspension. But I’m hoping it can happenafterwe celebrate a little.

Our driver flicks the lights, illuminating the interior of the bus, and a series of groans follow.

I glance down in time to catch Quinn’s nose wrinkle up, his eyes clenching closed to keep the light out before burrowing deeper into my shoulder. Which only makes his glasses fall clear off his face and into his lap.

I’ve never once in my life thought the wordadorablewhile looking at him, but I’ll be damned if the sight doesn’t make my heart twist into knots.

“We’re here,” I murmur, brushing a kiss on the top of his head.

Two gorgeous blue eyes peel open, blinking rapidly before he repositions his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “What time is it?”

“Just after two.”

Another wrinkle of the nose. “Ugh, we should have just stayed at the hotel another night.”

He’s definitely not wrong, but I’ll never say no to sleeping—or fucking—in my own bed. Or Quinn’s bed. I don’t care which.

Coach rises at the front of the bus, looking us all over from the aisle.

“I’m proud of every single one of you for the way you played tonight. Like Quinton said, you won as a team tonight. No one player is more important than another.” He nods toward Quinn, who gives a subtle nod in return. “We’ve still got work to do, as you know. But take the rest of the weekend to refresh and recharge. Get your celebrating out and come back Monday morning ready to hit the weights.”

A few stray hoots and hollers come from my teammates at the mentions of celebrating the win, and I think I hear a couple younger D-men in front of us mention a party the Deltas are throwing in honor of the big win.

By now I’ve realized the frats at Leighton are just looking for an excuse to throw a rager. And this happens to be a perfect one.

Coach hushes us, waving his hands in a downward motion before continuing. “Please be careful tonight, whether you go out or just go home. But for those of you going out, make good choices. Don’t do anything that will land you in jail or—”

“Your office,” a chorus of us finish for him.

He smirks and taps the back of the seat. “Seems you know the drill. Now, off you get.”

Quinn and I wait for most of the bus to clear out before climbing out of our seats. Our bags are already unloaded and waiting for us by the time we’re off, Coach waiting with the trophy in hand beside them.

I grab Quinn’s bag and hand it to him before shouldering my own. “Looks pretty good in your hands.”

“It certainly does, but it’ll look even better inside.” Coach looks between us. “Figured the team captain should be the one to carry it in, though. But I’ll leave you two to fight over who that is. Just…don’t break it. And bring the key back on Monday.”

Instead of handing it to one of us, he sets it on the ground with the key to the trophy case and heads to his SUV in the player lot.

Six months ago, I have no doubt the two of us would’ve gotten in a scuffle over the damn thing. But now we just stare at it, then each other, like we’re afraid to even touch it.

“You should bring it in,” he says first, breaking the silence. I lift my gaze to collide with his, and he continues, “You were captain for most of the season, not me.”

“You should have been the entire season if I hadn’t…” I trail off.

He grabs it from the ground and holds it out to me. “Okay, but if it wasn’t for your injury last year, the spot would’ve been yours in the first place and we both know it.”

What?

“That’s got nothing to do with this. It wasn’t even your fault,” I say, pushing it back toward him.

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