Page 129 of The Assist
That’s it. I lunge forward, shoving him hard enough that he stumbles back into the lockers.
Murphy grabs my arm, pulling me off before I can land the punch Ireallywant to throw. “Not worth it, man. Not worth it.”
But I’m breathing hard, fists clenched, blood boiling. Danny laughs, rubbing his shoulder.
“Touched a nerve, did I?”
“You don’t get to talk about her,” I snarl. “Not ever.”
A sharp voice cuts through the tension like a blade. “What the hell’s going on here?” Coach Bentley stands in the doorway, arms folded, eyes blazing.
Danny straightens, all fake charm. “Just a bit of banter, Coach.”
Bentley steps into the room, gaze swinging to me, then to Danny. “What exactly were you saying about Mia Clarke just now?”
Danny opens his mouth, but Bentley cuts him off.
“No. I heard enough. You think that kind of talk is acceptable in this room? Inmylocker room?”
Danny blinks. “It was just…”
“Sit down and shut up,” Bentley snaps.
The room goes silent. Then he turns to me. “Winters, with me. Now.” I nod, my fists still clenched tightly, and follow him down the hall to his office. The door shuts behind us with a dull thud. “Sit,” he says and I do.
Bentley doesn’t sit. He paces behind his desk like a man trying to decide between murder and retirement.
“I don’t like drama,” he says finally. “You know that.”
“Yes, sir.”
“But I like even less when one of my players shows histrue colours in front of half the team, and makes a woman’s professional reputation the punchline of a joke.”
My throat tightens. “It wasn’t a joke.”
“I know.” Bentley sighs. “Look. I don’t know what the league’s going to say. I don’t know what Mike’s cooking up in that PR cave of his. But what I do know is that you’ve always played with heart. And this? This isn’t a scandal to me. This is a man who finally let himself feel something.” I stare at him, surprised. He leans forward. “You love her?”
“Yes,” I say, no hesitation.
He nods once. “Then keep your head down. Let us handle the noise. Your job is to stay ready; physically and mentally. Got it?”
“Yes, Coach.”
“And Dylan?”
“Yeah?”
“If and when she walks back through that door, don’t waste time.”
I nod again, something loosening in my chest. When I step out into the corridor, Murphy’s waiting, arms folded. “You good?”
“Think so,” I mutter. “Coach isn’t as furious as I thought.”
“Probably helps that Danny looks like he’s about to cry.”
We walk together back toward the rink entrance. I’m just unlocking my phone to check the time when I see it. A message from Mia. I stop walking and my heart jumps into my throat.
Murphy notices. “That her?”
