Page 119 of Slap Shot Scandal
“It’s not your fault, Weston. And I’m glad you didn’t get tangled up in this mess. How’s Bennett?”
“Fine. It’s not his first run-in. My brother’s well-versed in bar fights. Pretty sure legal will be able to mount a good defense. But Prince is talking to the league today. He’s probably getting suspended for at least a game or two.”
And that’s on me. I was five feet away. I should’ve seen it coming. Stopped things before it all blew up.
Her hands ball into fists at her side. “Suspended. Dammit. I’m sorry.”
Worry swims in her hazel eyes and I run my thumb over her bottom lip. “Sshhh. Not your fault. My brother made his own choices.”
“Because of me.”
“Hurricane, he’s okay. Trust me—Bennett doesn’t mind trending on social media.”
“Oh god, tell me he’s not commenting on anything.”
“He’s not. But he’s low-key loving the hashtag#Steelefist.”
She giggles, her lips curving into a hint of a smile, and for the first time since last night, my chest loosens. I take a chance, dropping my lips to hers. After a second, she relaxes in my arms. Soft and warm, she kisses me back and some of the tension from last night slips away.
We’re going to be okay.
We have to be.
“I love you.” The words escape before I can stop them, raw and desperate in the small space. I don’t regret them, needing her to know how I feel. That I’m not going anywhere.
Harbor’s eyes widen, her lips parting in surprise.
“I know that’s a violation of rule #3, no future talk. But fuck the rules. I love you, Hurricane. Whatever comes next, I need you to know that.”
A buzz interrupts the moment, vibrating my pocket. I pull out my cell with trepidation.
“Shit. Team meeting at ten. Mandatory.”
Harbor nods. “I know. I’ll be there.”
I want to say more, to talk about us. But Harbor’s already switching to work-mode, her expression serious. Any trace of a smile’s now gone and I can practically hear the clock ticking.
Still, cold dread’s replaced by a whisper of relief. With Harbor on deck, the situation will be managed, contained. I’m sure of it.
“I better go. Need to get ice time in before the meeting.”
I kiss her one last time, trying to convince myself everything’s fine. Then I tiptoe out of the room for practice,leaving Harbor perched on the side of the bathtub. Typing away on her phone, screen glowing in her hand.
Stepping off the ice after my solo practice, I’m sweaty and exhausted. The events of the last twenty-four hours are starting to catch up, the adrenaline waning. I could go for a nice, long nap right about now.
“Steele. My office. Now.” Coach’s voice catches me off-guard. I hadn’t realized he was watching.
Anxiety snakes through my veins, each breath another flick of tension licking my insides. I follow Coach Keller through the tunnel and try not to panic. But judging by his ramrod posture and tense shoulders, I’m betting this isn’t gonna be a pep talk.
“Sit.” Coach practically barks the command and I bristle as I sink into the chair across from him.
He crosses his thick arms over his chest and stares at me for a long beat that feels like fucking eternity.
Finally, he shakes his head. “What in the actual fuck, Captain? A team kegger at your house with the motherfucking locals? Where the hell’s your head at, son?”
His brows crush together in a deep frown and my stomach bottoms out.
No sense sugarcoating the situation.
