Page 33 of Triple Pucked
“Cut the crap.” Coach’s lip curls. “You don’t need help getting drunk, and the last thing I need is for you to be suspended for drinking.”
I swallow the hurt. “It’s the weekend.”
“But you’re in the arena now. Did I say that you could bring reinforcements?” Coach scans across Robyn, narrowing his eyes when he notices what Shay is wearing.
Shay fidgets.
Coach is tall, although not as tall as I am, with a neat beard and twinkling, emerald eyes.
He has the same eyes as Robyn.
I wish that he didn’t remind me of her.
He is dressed in a sharp charcoal suit with a green shirt and tie. Beside coach, flatscreen monitors hang on the walls. He uses the monitors to watch back the games with me and the rest ofthe team, analyzing our plays, busting our balls for our mistakes, and making sure that we learn from them.
I can’t help that I still admire him for his hardass talent as a coach.
Glancing at Shay, who is keeping his gaze fixed firmly on the floor, I know that he can’t help still craving coach’s approval.
I throw myself down in the chair opposite the large, mahogany desk in the center of the room. “I told you that I wouldn’t be coming here alone.”
“Shut up, D’Angelo,” coach barks. “Don’t backtalk me this morning. I know how lax the whole team has become with our temporary assistant coach, Bolling. The pussy didn’t even make Atlas skate punishment laps or attend extra practice sessions for that stunt he pulled last week. Don’t think that I haven’t been noting your bullshit.”
“Like winning games?” Protectiveness surges through me for my teammates. “They’re motivated better with positive, rather than negative, reinforcement. Since Colton was fired, we’ve performed better as a team than we ever have.”
“It’s been brilliant.” Shay rocks on his heels, excitedly. “The team is on bloody fire. Atlas’ puck-handling is amazing. The man has lightning-fast reflexes. He is so bloody calm under pressure that it makes me look like?—”
“You’re one spark away from exploding all the time?” Coach swaggers back around his desk. “Everybody looks calm next to you. Even I do.”
A laptop sits on the desk facing coach, which he switches on.
Shay deflates. “I’ll try harder, coach.”
I tap on the face of my Rolex three times. “He’s trying already. The whole team is. So, why have I been called in on the day after I finally moved in with your daughter?”
Fuck. You.
Finally, that appears to hit.
Coach’s gaze shoots to meet Robyn’s unimpressed one.
She crosses her arms. “I moved in with D’Angelo yesterday. The twins are living with us as well. I briefed security. We’re happy, thanks for asking.”
For the first time, coach’s expression softens.
I hold my breath, as he settles in the leather chair behind his desk. He is taking his time answering.
I stiffen.
What if he tries to split us up?
Our secret relationship is dangerous for his daughter. I have things in both my present life and past that could hurt her if they were exposed in the press.
Coach’s assessing gaze settles on me, before swinging to Robyn again. “After what happened with Wilder, you know that I only care about you being happy. I wish that I didn’t…”
He catches himself, as if stopping himself from revealing something that he hadn’t intended to, before clasping his strong hands on the table.
I look at him sharply. What had he been going to say?
