Page 71 of Zero Pucks

There was a soft murmur that sounded like agreement, but I was pretty sure everyone was doing it so they could get dismissed without him launching into another tirade. Most of the guys liked Hugo, and I understood why.

Fuck, we had to fix this.

When Boden dismissed everyone, I felt a grasp on the back of my neck. Carter—our goalie—was in my ear. “You and Ford are going to talk to him, right? Because this is unhinged.”

I grimaced. “We’re going to do our best.”

“I don’t know if I dislike this guy,” Carter said. “I mean, he seems like a pretentious ass, but his plays won us the game.”

Yep. I couldn’t deny that as much as I wanted to. It would have been a hell of a lot easier if we’d lost. Then we could safely say the new coach sucked, and I wouldn’t feel guilty about Boden’s plan. But that wasn’t going to be the case.

I kept my ass planted on the bench as everyone else filed out, and through the fog in my eye that was finally starting to clear a bit, I could see two shadows. Ford was sitting, Bodie was still pacing.

The silence in the room was tense and thick enough I could have carved shapes in it with a pocketknife.

“So,” Ford said when we were alone.

“I’m not in the mood,” Boden snapped back.

I spun my body toward him. “Too bad. We are.”

“Oh? Is that so?” His accent always thickened when he was pissed. “Câlisse, you really think you have anything to say to me after you abandoned me last night?”

I knew he wasn’t talking about me going to Amedeo’s. Or, at least, not entirely. I threw up my hands. “You were out of line, Bode. You want to pick a fight with Marser, fine. Go for it. But you cannot attack yourcoach.”

“We all agreed!” Bodie shouted. His crutch tip slammed on the floor. “We all agreed that he has no place here, and you left me to the fucking wolves.” He muttered a long string of angry Quebecois. “And now you want to tell me you’re sorry?”

I felt Ford’s tension when I laughed, but I couldn’t help it. “Dude, no. I’m not sorry. The fact that Hugo got the job over someone else sucks, but you can’t deny his plays worked. We won the game.”

“In spite of him,” Bodie spat.

“…was it though?” Ford asked.

Our neutral Switzerland was taking sides? Shit. Ford almost never spoke up during these little talks unless he really meant it. He always said he loved both of us too much.

Boden was dead silent for a long beat. “Is this how it is?”

“No,” I said. I stood up when he started to move toward the door. “Please don’t run. I’m blind as one of those blind mole thingies, and I can’t chase after you.”

“I’m not running anywhere,” Bodie snapped. “But I don’t have to sit here and take this bullshit from you two. You promised?—”

“We know,” Ford interrupted. He shifted next to me and nudged me with his elbow. “But…well. Maybe…” He trailed off. I knew he wasn’t going to say it himself, so I had to.

“We’re worried that something else is going on, and you’re taking it out on Hugo.”

Boden was silent for a long, long beat. “I need to leave.”

“Don’t.” I jumped up, wobbled, then righted myself before I walked toward him. He was a slightly clearer blob than before. “I love you.”

“Mm.”

I knew he loved me too, but Boden had always struggled to say those words aloud. I’d heard them a few times, years back, when he drank a lot more.

“We’re here for you, okay? But maybe we should hear Hugo out first. Don’t let your anger be a roadblock.” I pressed my hands over his, squeezing them over the curve of his crutch handles. “You have so much shit to accomplish, Bode. Don’t fuck it up because of some guy.”

“I’m not going to like him. You realize that, right?”

I snorted a laugh. “Uh, yeah. I do. But you can dislike him and not throw shit at him and get ejected from the game for going after your own coach.”

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