Page 2 of The Rebound
Reevesreallydoesn’t like that response. He picks up the stack of papers and tosses them on the desk in front of me. I flip through the headlines, waiting for them to spark memories.
Spotted Shirtless at the Sinclair: Price St. James Goes Wild
Saint or Sinner? Exotic Dancer Tells All About Night Out with Boston Titans Defenseman
Hockey Player Crowd Surfs at Club
That last one rings a bell, and I have some bruising on my back to prove it. Honestly, I’m a little impressed with myself.
I chew on my smile, hiding it behind an amused frown. “Pretty cool that they’re all different.”
Reeves glares at me, shaking his head in disbelief. “No, Saint. Not cool. Not cool at all.”
Looks like Coach isn’t the only one in need of a little rest and relaxation. Reeves disappears to Mexico for about a month every summer to surf, and I hope for all of our sakes he’s getting on a plane as soon as this meeting ends and our summer officially begins.
“I mean, it’s the off-season. Can’t you cut me some slack?”
“This,” Reeves says, waving the papers, “is what happens when we ‘cut you some slack.’ So, no. We can’t. This shit has to stop.”
“I know, I know. I’ll cool it, okay?”
“You’re gonna do a whole lot more than just cool it.” Reeves chuckles humorlessly. “Consider yourself on probation.”
“Probation? From what, living?”
Reeves rolls his eyes and throws his hands in the air.
Okay, I’m a little pissed now. If Reeves wants a fight, I’m more than happy to give him one. The guy has had it out for me since day one. We’re polar opposites. If life were an amusement park, I’d be the guy who heads straight for the biggest, steepest ride as soon as I walk through the gates, fast pass in hand. Reeves? I doubt he’d pull the stick out of his ass long enough to even enjoy the teacups.
Coach Wilder stares me down. “We’re tired of the stories, Saint. Every day it’s something new. We’ve got donors calling us, complaining. Your actions don’t only affect you—they affect the whole team. But you’ll be dealt the worst of it. Sooner or later, you’re gonna find yourself strapped with a lawsuit, or worse? Injured. Because you can’t seem to just get drunk anymore. You have to get reckless too. It’s too much.”
I sink back into the chair, wincing when my back twinges.
Maybe he has a point. Maybe I’ve been partying too hard lately. Maybe it’s because all my friends are getting hitched, and every engagement party I have to attend makes me want to crawl out of my skin. Maybe I’m panicking.
My expression turns serious. “Okay, I’ll get it under control. No more headlines.”
Reeves cuts in. “Seriously, Saint. One more and you’re suspended.”
When I shoot a wide-eyed look at Coach, he nods solemnly.Dammit.
Coach pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a long sigh. “This is serious, Saint. Keep a low profile this summer. No trouble for the team. Got it?”
“Fine,” I force out between gritted teeth. “Is there anything else?”
“That’s it.” Coach sighs again. “See you tomorrow.”
Tomorrow is our dressing room clean-out and an optional workout. I didn’t really plan on coming in, but I guess I am now.
Abruptly, I stand, letting the chair screech against the linoleum floor before I make my quick exit. I don’t even bother closing the door behind me.
My gut burns at the memory of Reeves’s smug expression, his self-righteous indignation. What a fucking asshole. On top of all this shit, now I gotta force myself to play nice with the captain, who hates me now more than ever?Great.
When I round the corner, I spot Alex and Tate heading toward the exit, and call out, “Hold up.”
• • •
Thirty minutes later, Alex, Tate, and I are crowded together in a booth at the nearest bar. The beer in front of me glistens like heavenly nectar, but I leave it untouched. I’ve lost my taste for it, still reeling from the meeting.
