Page 54 of Faking the Shot
I yank off my skates at the bench, sliding into my athletic slippers before following him. When I step into his office, he’s already sitting behind his desk, rubbing his temples like I’m the world’s biggest headache.
“Look, Coach, I was just trying to?—”
“Shut it, Kaden. Just shut the hell up.” He sighs heavily, leaning back in his chair. “Tell me the truth: is it drugs?”
“What?” I blink, startled. “No. Of course not.”
“Booze? This new woman you’re seeing? What is it?”
“I don’t understand the question,” I mutter, crossing my arms.
He leans forward, fixing me with a hard stare. “I’m the coach, not you. If I want your input, I’ll ask for it. Until then, you support your team and keep your mouth shut.”
“But we suck, and you know it,” I shoot back, leaning forward so he knows I’m serious.
“Yeah, well, sometimes there are things more important than winning. Like team unity. And, Kaden, you’re killing it.” He runs a hand through his hair, looking frustrated. “Sure, you can get the puck down the ice better than nearly anyone I’ve ever seen, but what good is that if no one’s there to back you up? This isn’t a solo sport.”
“They’ll come around,” I say, even though the words feel hollow.
“It’s not about them coming around. It’s about all of you working together. We traded players to balance the team—mixing rookies with veterans and building chemistry—but you’re a damn hurricane in the middle of it all. Help me, help them. Stop antagonizing your teammates, or we’re going to have to make some hard decisions next season.”
The blood drains from my face. He can’t mean that. Can he?
“Coach, you’re not serious,” I say, my voice low.
“I am,” he replies bluntly. “This hostility is tearing the locker room apart. I need to do what’s best for the team. Hire a PR person, get an anger management coach—hell, do whatever it takes to fix this. But if things don’t improve, you’re done here.”
I can’t even respond. My mind is racing, a mix of anger and disbelief churning in my chest. Without another word, I push the door open and head for the locker room.
I grab my bag, my movements stiff and jerky. His words echo in my mind, a reminder of what’s at stake. I’m not just fighting for a Cup anymore—I’m fighting to stay on this team.
But how the fuck am I supposed to fix this when no one else seems willing to meet me halfway?
As I leave the rink, the frustration bubbling inside me feels impossible to contain. Something’s got to give, and it sure as hell isn’t going to be me.
Thoughts of Valentina creep into my mind, uninvited but persistent. Despite our rocky moments, she’s been there for me, believed in me even when I didn’t deserve it. And of course, I had to go and fuck that up by blaming her for what happened at the community center. I don’t even know if I can fix this . . . fix us.
But how?
Chapter Twenty-Six
Valentina:What is the deal with you?
Kaden: Excuse me?
Valentina:My sister’s place looks like a flower shop.
Kaden:Oh you’re finally acknowledging the flowers?
Valentina:It’s hard not to notice them. But I’ve been busy trying to find a new job. Your arrangements—and the notes—haven’t exactly been a priority
Kaden:So, can we talk?
Valentina:Nope. This was just a text to ask you to stop sending flowers and to lose my number.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Valentina:No amount of chocolate will make me want to have a word with you. What part of losing my number you didn’t get?
