Page 93 of Slap Shot Scandal
“You were locked in out there today. Your drills were faster, stick skills sharp—keep it up.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Today you embodied what a captain of a pro hockey team should be—determined, focused, on point. The guys are watching you and gauging your reaction to this relocation. I’ve seen how you interact with your teammates. You’re calm, no drama or bullshit. I like your style, Weston.”
“Thank you, Coach.” I roll my shoulders, wondering where he’s going with this little speech.
“I know Prince has you doing a lot of the song-and-dance shit with the PR consultant and the rebranding campaign.”
My stomach twists into a tight knot at the mention of anything to do with Harbor.
“I’m not in a position to stop the owner of the team from using you however he sees fit. That being said, if the PR crap gets to be too big of a distraction, let me know. Our goal is to win games. It’s fine and good to lob an assist every once in a while, but I don’t want my captain losing sight of what matters.” He locks his gaze with mine and my mouth goes dry. “Winning.”
I nod. “Yes, Coach. Understood. So far, Prince hasn’t thrown me anything I can’t handle.”
Keller steeples his fingers together, gazing across the desk at me. “Good.”
He pauses for a long second, the air conditioning humming behind me. Even with the AC cranking, I’m sweating beneath my jersey.
“You and Harbor seem to work well together.”
My throat constricts and I practically choke on air. Hearing her name roll off Coach’s lips sends a sharp bolt of anxiety ripping through me.
“We do, yeah.”
“Keep it that way, Steele. Because the second I see your performance slip, or the team dynamic falter, I’ll know where to locate the source. My number one priority is protecting this team’s chances this season—at all costs.” He leaves the rest unsaid, the unspoken words hanging heavy between us.
No distractions.
No feelings.
Eye on the prize.
“That’s all. Have a great strength training session.”
With that, he swivels to his computer and starts typing. Effectively dismissing me.
I stand and walk out of the office, more on edge than before our little chat.
It’s unclear if Coach suspects anything. But he’s definitely watching—and that worries me almost as much.
Because I’ve never wanted anything as bad as a win this season.
Until her.
Now I’ve got both in my hands—Harbor and hockey—and I’m teetering on a razor-thin line.
One wrong move and I lose everything.
And the worst part?
I’m not sure which loss would wreck me more.
Losing hockey would gut my identity, everything I’ve worked for my entire life.
But losing Harbor?
That would gut my soul.
