Page 119 of Triple Pucked
This morning over breakfast, he tried to talk to me about Blythe’s messages.
“Why do you keep being sent emojis?” Eden whispered, passing me the raspberry jam.
I froze, paling.
I couldn’t answer.
I didn’t want to lie but I hadn’t worked out what to say.
Ever since, he’s returned to being my silent shadow.
I sigh, bouncing my knee with nerves.
“Clear your head, cucciolo.” D’Angelo rests his hand on my knee to still it. “Relax. You’re too wound up. Don’t think about yesterday’s game. This is meant to be our downtime. We can talk strategy afterward. You had enough of having your ass kicked after the Caps’ game; you don’t need to keep kicking your own ass.”
He’s right, especially about the arse kicking.
But how can I stop thinking about it? Plus, he doesn’t know what I truly have on my mind.
I have to tell him about Blythe.
I have to come clean.
But how?
How the bloody hell do I tell any of them?
It’ll change everything.
Right?
I’ve always pushed and pushed andfinally, found everybody’s limit.
They’ll hate me…want to punish me…just like Blythe does.
Isn’t it better? To at least know what the worst looks like?
Robyn and D’Angelo can’t continue to be this good to me forever. It’s not real. People don’t treat me like this.
My muscles ache from the hard exercises and drills that Fleet put me and the rest of the team through for most of the day.
We deserved it.
The game against the Washington Capitals was a disaster. Coach made that clear to me personally, when he pulled me out of the locker room into the corridor.
“What the hell was that, Prince?” Coach demanded. “If you can’t keep your head in the game, then I’ll trade you right now.”
My eyes widened. “No, please. I’m sorry, coach. It won’t happen again, I swear?—”
“You’re damn right, it won’t.” Coach shook his head. “You have the best potential of any player I’ve coached. But you also self-sabotage more than any other. You remind me of D’Angelo when he was a newbie. I was tough with him back then. Is that what you need?”
I could barely hear him; I was in a daze. “Whatever you say, coach.”
“Don’t expect me to go easy on you from now on, Prince. You obviously need a firmer hand.”
Yet I couldn’t remember most of the game.
I’d been playing most of it on autopilot, flashing in and out of memories from my past with Blythe.
