Page 43 of Ice Cold, Red Hot
I didn’t know what that was, but I knew it was bad. My blood slowed in my veins, my hands gripping my thighs. Here it came.
“We’re here to discuss the incident that occurred at McDougals a week ago Friday. Where you assaulted a graduate student unprovoked.”
I was provoked, but I wasn’t about to try to explain everything now. My mind twisted over itself, looking for a way out of this and running into nothing but dead ends. Was Ethan pressing charges? That little twat…
“While the student involved has graciously dropped charges, the department and the university cannot overlook a clear breach of the student-athlete code. There are the additional issues of conduct unbecoming a team leader, and the negative media attention this has called to our athletics program overall.”
All three men stared at me as if I’d have some rebuttal, but there was nothing to say. I waited.
“Son,” Coach said. “You’ve left us no choice.”
Director Tithes spoke up, unfolding his too long fingers from where they were folded in front of him to pass me a set of forms. “Effectively immediately, you’re benched for the rest of the season. Not formally suspended, but you won’t be playing.”
“The rest of the season?” I heard myself repeat. This would mean the end. The scouts coming to see me play, the chances for an NHL contract, all of it up in smoke the second my fist connected with Ethan’s nose? And even though I’d done everything I could to “fix” it… none of it mattered.
“We’ll re-evaluate post-season,” Tithes said.
I watched Coach’s face. He knew what this meant. He knew exactly what this meant for me. He grimaced—at least it hurt him too.
“Sign there,” Tithes said, gesturing to the bottom of the printed letter that would end my chances at a hockey career.
I signed.
And then they all stood and filed out. I followed them out the door, but Coach was waiting, and he pulled me back inside.
“One second, Shepherd.”
The door swung shut again, and I stared at him, wishing I could find that look in his eyes—the one he used to give me when I was the hope of the Coldwater team, the one he’d given me when we’d first met. “You know I’ve stood by you for a long time.”
“Yessir.” I swallowed my pride. Maybe there was still a chance?
“That said, I can’t keep pretending you haven’t burned this team down around you. I’m giving the C to Griff. He’s earned it.”
He might as well have hit me. All the air left my body. It wasn’t like I’d thought I could be captain from the bench, but the reality still landed like a gut punch.
“Don’t make me regret letting you stay on the bench.”
I forced myself to nod. I wasn’t going to beg. Or cry, even though I wanted to do both.
I watched the coach’s back as he left, knowing every single person in my life had decided I was toxic. And worse? I knew they were right.
I headed to practice straight from the meeting, though the rink was the last place I wanted to be.
The locker room was silent the second I walked in, and I gazed around at my teammates.
They already knew.
I turned to Griff, catching his eye for a minute as he paused in getting his pads on. He gave me a tiny nod. At least he wasn’t going to gloat.
The silence was heavy as I pulled on my pads and shoved my things into my locker, and it was honestly worse than if the guys had just pretended it was all fine. I hated the furtive looks, the presumption of my feelings. As we were heading out to the ice, one of the sophomores whispered to another, “…benched for good. Man, that’s harsh.”
“Fuck off,” I muttered to him, but there was no heat in it.
Everyone moved past me as we filed out to the rink, Coach waiting with his arms crossed. The second my skate hit the ice, I felt it—the longing to fly, to watch the puck soar from my stick, to feel the adrenaline as I wound my way through obstacles… It was over.
After practice I didn’t even shower, just ripped off my clothes and grabbed my bag, throwing everything into the truck and heading home, where I dropped my bag inside the door and fell onto my bed.
It was over. Everything I’d worked for.
