Page 63 of Dirty Pucker

He’s doing it to make an example out of me, and I get it.

I follow him to the far end of the visitor locker room.

He frowns at me, his gaze hard. “The department of player safety is scheduled to meet to discuss whether or not you should be suspended for that hit on Crowley. You could be out for a few games for that.”

“I understand.”

He narrows his gaze at me, crossing his arms over his chest. “I thought I made it clear that I’m not going to tolerate dirty hits like that from a player on my team.”

I hesitate before I speak. I don’t want to explain why I did it. Not because I’m embarrassed, but because it involves Ingrid, and I don’t want her dragged into this. She had nothing to do with any of this. And I don’t want it getting back to her, what Crowley said about her. I’m sure it would upset her, and I can’t stand the thought of her feeling that way.

“I understand, Coach. And I’m sorry. Really sorry. It won’t happen again.”

He stares at me, quiet for a long moment. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

I open my mouth, but again I hesitate.

“Your future on this team is on the line,” Coach Porter says. “If this behavior continues, don’t expect to be here for very long.”

A familiar panic flashes in my gut. I hold back, prepared to stay quiet. But after a few seconds, my anxiety wins out.

I can’t jeopardize my standing with my new team. I need to come clean to Coach Porter.

“The reason I hit Crowley is because he made a joke about sexually assaulting Ingrid.”

Porter’s brow hits his hairline. “He what?”

“He, um, he said some pretty graphic and disgusting things about what he was going to do to her…” I trail off, the acid in my stomach curdling just thinking about it.

“Are you fucking kidding?” Theo says behind me.

I look around and see that the entire locker room is looking at me. Half of them look enraged. The other half look like they’re about to be sick.

I focus on Theo, who looks like he’s gonna punch a hole through the wall.

I clear my throat. “I’m not.”

I turn back to Coach Porter. He works his jaw. “Well, that certainly changes things.”

My head hangs as I glance at the floor, upset that I had to mention Ingrid, that I had to pull her into this shittiness.

But I can’t lose my spot on this team, not because of a misunderstanding.

Porter looks off to the side and shakes his head before looking back at me. “That hit wasn’t so dirty, then. It was pretty damn well deserved.” He nods once. “We don’t have an issue.”

Relief flashes through me. His support means everything right now.

“I can’t say that the department of player safety will be so sympathetic though,” he says.

“That’s fine. I’ll take a suspension if that’s what they decide.”

Coach Porter pats my shoulder before turning to address the team. “Trash-talking on the ice is fine. It’s part of the game. But I won’t stand for the kind of talk that Crowley apparently takes part in. Especially when it’s targeting someone from our organization.”

Everyone in the room nods in agreement.

He says a few words about tonight’s loss but leaves things on a determined note.

“I hate losing. You all know that,” Coach Porter says from the center of the locker room. “But it’s one loss. One loss in a sea of victories. Take that frustration and disappointment and channel it into something useful. I wanna see you fight like hell at our next game.”

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