Page 75 of Your Pucking Mom

“Yes, Coach,” we responded in unison, our voices barely above a whisper.

“The only one showing any damn effort out there is Hart, and the rest of you seem content to let him carry the whole damn team. You’re too busy chasing your own glory, trying to up your stats, to play as a fucking team,” Coach continued, his words a stinging rebuke to each and every one of us. I kept my head hung low. He was right. I wasn’t in the game.

Coach finished his speech, describing a few plays and movements we needed to improve upon before sending us off. A few guys had to check in with the trainers and their own coaches before the third period started.

“You”—Coach pointed at me—“keep sitting.” I nodded solemnly, half expecting this to happen.

I didn’t move, and Coach took off his black suit jacket to sit next to me on the bench where he ran his calloused fingers through his cropped hair. “I’m fucking tired of this shit.”

This wasn’t the screaming match I was expecting. “Oh?”

“I’m constantly trying to keep my job, uphold my reputation, while simultaneously doing what’s best for the team and bringing us wins.”

I nodded, understanding what he was saying on a deep level. “Yeah.”

“I know you’re checked out, Cole. I don’t know why.”

He sighed before slowly turning toward me. I had already chucked my gloves onto the floor, but it was awkward sitting in all of this padding. “Is it your knee?”

I shook my head. I actually felt good physically, I just wasn’t in the game. “What is it? I know you think it’s your last year, but we could have a kick-ass season, and you could stay in…”

I shook my head again. “Nah. I’m done.” I sighed, cracking my head to the side in frustration. “I’m just?—”

Coach whipped his head around, and his eyes bore deeply into mine. “It’s about her,” he said, dropping his tone an octave so no one else in the room could hear us.

I debated lying to him. He didn’t need to know, but on the other hand, he already knew, so I nodded.

“Fuck, Cole. I told you not to go there.”

“It’s not that. She’s my friend,” I added quickly. “It’s just that I got her a ticket closer to the glass for the game, and I keep looking over there, but she’s not there, and she wouldn’t not be here because her son and all?—”

“Yeah. I’m sure that’s now the reason she comes. There is no one else she has to look at.”

I purposely chose to ignore his comment. “No. I’m being serious.” I raked my hands through my long black locks.

This shit was eating me up. Coach straightened. “Oh shit. You’re actually worried.”

“Yes.” I threw my hands in the air. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

“Have you told Hart about this?” I shook my head.

“No. I didn’t want to worry him.”

Coach nodded in agreement. “Smart thinking. Let me call Nova and see if she’s up at the wives and family suite just in case. I saw her during the walk-in.”

I let out a deep breath. “Thank you.”

My head wasn’t in the game, and quite frankly, I wasn’t sure it was able to get back in before we had to return to the ice.

“You good?” Alex came over while Coach got up to make the phone call, and popped down on the bench next to me, chugging an entire bottle of water.

“Not really. How did you know Stassi was the one?”

Alex dropped the water bottle, his eyes locking onto mine, his sweaty hair clinging to his forehead. “Shit,” he muttered.

I nudged him in the shoulder. “Just curious,” I added.

A strange feeling churned in the pit of my stomach, leaving me unsettled.

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