Page 95 of A Scoring Chance

“Of course not. He went after a teammate. No matter how provoked and justified his actions were, we need to use our words, not our fists.”

“What do you mean, provoked?”

Ah, now I have his attention. I doubt that Bower or anyone else on the team plans to tell Coach the vile things they were saying about Ramona and Alise. Coach has three daughters, all around the girls' age. The last thing he would condone is their being disrespectful to women.

“Crosby and Bower had been running their mouths all practice, making inappropriate comments about my girlfriend and sister. Beau was sick of it and lashed out.”

“Sister? I thought you only had three brothers. Beau, Cole, and the youngest one.”

“Kyle is our youngest brother’s name. But Alise is family. Our mothers are best friends, and we grew up together. We all think of her as our sister. You know the saying, the family we make, not the family we were born into and all that.”

Coach’s eyes remain locked on mine as he leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over her chest. “How inappropriate are we talking?”

“Too inappropriate for me to repeat, Coach. If Beau wouldn’t have gotten to him first, I would have decked him.”

“One-game suspension. He’s still to suit up for the game, and we’ll make some excuse about a minor injury to the press.”

“Thanks, Coach. We appreciate it.” I smile before turning around to head out of his office. If I get moving, I might catch Beau before he leaves so I can apologize. I should’ve had his back on the ice instead of coming down on him about responsibility to the team.

“And Cooper.” I turn around, eyes locking with Coach as he smiles. “It’ll be good to have you back on the ice at playoff time.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” I respond, heading out the door and turning right toward the locker room.

I run into a few of the guys in the hall, congratulating me on making it off the injured reserve and checking to see how Beau isdoing. I guess he hightailed it out of the locker room as quickly as possible.

“Do you know where he was headed?” I ask Chatfield as we practically run into each other as I come into the locker room.

“He said something about grabbing drinks with his brother. I’m assuming he meant one of the other ones since you’re standing here.” He chuckles before continuing on his way out of the locker room.

The place is practically deserted, with only a few other players hanging around, but I can tell they’re on their way out. I say hello to a few of them as I pass but head right for the showers, wanting to get out of here and to my beauty as quickly as possible. I was so fucking focused on fixing this shit with the team and Beau that I didn’t even bother to send her a message to let her know everything was okay.

I turn on the water in the showers, stripping quickly before stepping under the lukewarm spray. I completely forgot to bring my soap, so I grab a bar of the hotel soap they keep here for these emergencies.

What the fuck is wrong with me?Beau was right, as usual. I was so focused on what would work out best for the team that I didn’t think about anything or anyone else. Hopefully, she’s still waiting there for me when I come out, but I wouldn’t blame her if she left my ass here.

I need to find a way to balance hockey and my love life for the first time since I was eighteen years old if I want things to work between Ramona and me. Right now, everything is going well, but I spend most of my time in Redwood Falls. Once I start playing regularly, things are going to change. The franchise has been wanting to talk more to Remy about renegotiating my contract since they know my knee is back to 100 percent, so I’m sure I can get at least one more season out of them.

My mind continues to wander, thinking about all the things that I need to figure out if there’s any hope of my relationship with Beauty lasting past the start of next season, but then the sound of someone entering the locker room reaches my ears.

Thankfully, I’m finished, so I turn the water off and grab a towel, wrapping it tightly around my waist before heading for my locker. The moment I round the corner, I see the last person I was expecting, Annamarie Sutton.

“What the fuck are you doing in here, Annamarie?” I ask, trying to walk around her, but she steps in my way.

“Daddy said I could go anywhere I wanted in the building whenever I wanted.”

“Daddy?”

“Oh, didn’t you know? Henry Ryan is my father.” She smiles brightly, her nails tracking across my chest before resting on the knot holding my towel in place. I take a step away from her, not wanting to chance her pulling it free.

Henry Ryan, the owner of the Portland Timberwolves, the man who signs all my paychecks, is her father? I grew up with her. I’ve met her mother and father many times when we were in high school. Not once did I run into Henry. I’d have remembered meeting him before I signed for the Timberwolves.

“But your last name is Sutton.” I inch further away from her, my eyes scanning for another way out of the locker room.

There’s a craziness in her eyes that isn’t usually there. Couple that with the fact she cornered me in an NHL locker room of all places is giving off serious stalker vibes. “Oh. Here’s your bag. I approve of the outfit, by the way. I’ll turn around so you can get dressed, not that I don’t already know what everything looks like.”

Her eyes drag down my body, goose bumps pebbling my skin as I watch her turn around. Once I’m sure she’s not peaking, I open the closest locker door and quickly dress. Thankfully, myshoes are in the bag, so I grab them and slide them onto my feet, as well, ready to make a break for it if things get too insane.

Annamarie doesn’t miss a beat, continuing to tell me her life story like it’s an everyday occurrence. “My stepfather’s last name is Sutton. Mommy changed our last names before we moved to Redwood Falls. Peter was running for mayor, after all. No one wanted the scandal of knowing I didn’t belong to him. Mommy dearest cheated on Daddy with good old Peter Sutton. Until I had my son, I had no idea he wasn’t my father.”

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