Page 61 of Never Your Girl

Even without looking, I can feel his disapproval radiating from the stands. It’s the same suffocating presence I’ve been dealing with my entire life.

As my gaze flicks to the crowd, I don’t focus on his scowl.

I focus my attention on something else.

Someone else entirely.

Holland.

She’s sitting with the other girlfriends and wives, wearing my jersey.

My number.

Emotion wells inside me. It’s a strange concoction of pride and confusion. She doesn’t look like she wants to be here. Her back is straight and her face is unreadable.

But she came.

Honestly, I wasn’t sure if she’d show.

The odds were fifty-fifty at best.

Even though I only falter for a fraction of a second, that’s all it takes.

“Sanderson!” Coach’s sharp voice cuts through the air.

But it’s too late.

The puck slips past my stick before getting snapped up by the other team. I pivot hard and chase it down, but I’m behind the play. My gut twists as I watch them line up the shot and send the black disc sailing into our net.

The clang of the goal feels like a gunshot.

“Shit,” I mutter under my breath, skating back to the line. The groans from the crowd hit me like a wave.

I don’t look at my father. I don’t want to see the disgust and anger that will be written across his face.

Coach catches my attention before motioning for me to come off the ice. My legs feel like lead as I make it to the bench.

“Akeman, you’re in,” Coach calls, barely sparing me a glance.

Garret knocks into my shoulder with his own. “You’re making this too damn easy, Sanderson,” he says, just loud enough for me to hear.

My jaw tightens as I grip my stick until my knuckles ache. The game continues, but I’m stuck in my head. My mistakes seem to multiply. Another fumbled play along with a turnover. It’s like quicksand, and there’s no way to get out of it.

By the time the buzzer sounds, we’ve managed to scrape out a win by one goal. My teammates are buzzing with relief and celebration, but I can’t bring myself to join in. My stomach churns as I skate off the ice, my gaze darting toward the stands.

Holland’s eyes find mine, and for a split second, it feels like everything slows. There’s no scorn in her expression, no pity. Just something soft, something I don’t deserve right now.

I look away before it can swallow me whole.

The locker room is chaos, filled with laughter and shouts. Ryder slaps me on the shoulder as I sink to the bench and stare sightlessly at my locker.

“Let it go, man. We all have off nights. That’s all this was.”

“Yeah,” Steele adds, passing me a water bottle. “We won, and that’s what matters.”

Their words barely register as I nod. Coach gives a speech about keeping our momentum, reminding us that this is what we’ve been working for all season. The guys cheer and make plans to head to Slap Shotz to celebrate.

One by one, they shower before taking off, leaving me alone. I sit on the bench, staring at the floor, my brain going over every mistake.

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