Page 50 of Full Tilt
I pause on my pacing and stalk toward him, and all the while, he maintains a stoic expression. I might not particularly like Coach, but I’ll give him one thing—the guy isn’t intimidated by shit.
“Give me a chance.” I hold up a single finger in front of him. “One more chance.”
“Chance at what, Tommy?” Adrian asks. “I’ve got a stack of complaints about you from your teammates. Rebuilding relationships with them is going to require a lot more than ‘one more chance.’”
Dropping my finger, I dump myself back down into the black leather seat, bracing my elbows on my knees. “You used to support me. Back when I got traded here, you said I was what the team needed, and at the start of preseason, you told me to give you ‘more of the same.’” Just like Adrian did a second earlier, I quote his words back to him.
His face softens the slightest fraction. “I know I did, Tommy. But Coach Morgan is right on this occasion; the Blades are at risk of regaining the reputation they fought hard to shake off after what your …” He pauses and looks off to the side.
“What my dad did?” I finish for him. “You’re referring to the hit he put on Zach Evans several seasons back, aren’t you?” My voice is incredulous. “I’m way more skilled than Alex ever was, way more valuable.”
Adrian doesn’t respond initially, instead rising from his chair. He looms over me, both palms planted firmly on his desk. “Son, I don’t know what kind of relationship you have with your father, and I don’t need to know either. But let me tell you something. I believe in the enforcer—you know I’ve always felt that there is a place for them in this league. What I don’t believe in is the kind of shit Alex Schneider used to hand out to theopposition.” He rises to his full height, steely gaze still locked on me. “That shit you pulled in the penalty box after the fight with Curtis Freeman stunk of your father’s attitude. You’re an enforcer, not a killer.”
Emotions sting my senses, and I bite the inside of my cheek so hard that I can taste the metallic sensation as it trickles down my throat. “I’m better than him.”
The voice sounds foreign, and I look across at Coach to see if the response belonged to him or me. In truth, I know it was my own.
My GM just nods his head softly and turns his attention to Coach. “The five-match restriction still applies.” He then refocuses back on me. “I backed your trade when no one else would, and I need you to prove to me that my faith in you wasn’t misplaced.”
“I’m the better Schneider.” I repeat my sentiment.
“Words are cheap, Tommy.” He thumbs behind him to nothing. “I’ve got a bunch of players wanting to know when I’m going to trade you. Another minor infraction, whether it be on the ice or in the locker room, and best believe I’m going to start making calls to your agent to discuss your imminent departure.”
Like a sitting duck, I nod once and push up to stand. Done with the conversation and this entire fucking team.
“Jenna Miller …” Coach says, stopping me in my tracks, and I spin a one-eighty and come back to face him.
I swear to God, if she has had a hand in any of this, I’ll lose my shit completely.
“What about her?” I ask, keeping my tone light.
Coach quirks an obvious brow, like I should know exactly what he’s insinuating. “Did the altercation with Freeman have anything to do with Jenna Miller?”
I cast my eyes to Adrian, who looks on, waiting for me to answer Coach’s question.
“No. I haven’t spoken to her in a while.” It’s a lie, and I know it. I spoke with her two days ago on my birthday, when she declined my invitation to come over and fuck.
Of its own accord, my dick twitches in my pants.
Jesus Christ, this isn’t the time to get horny over thoughts of my hellion, naked and sprawled out beneath me.
“You sure about that?” Coach pushes me further.
I throw my arms out to the sides. “Why does it matter to you? I told you I haven’t seen her. Freeman was giving me shit over the game, and Jenna Miller isn’t that important. She fucked a veteran hockey player who’s past his best and then decided to spread shit about me.” A wry smile pulls at my lips. “Trust me when I say that she won’t be doing that again.”
Coach probably thinks I’m referring to her talking about me when, actually, I’m referring to her climbing into bed with any guy other than me.
She might hate my guts, but her body is dying for me to put my hands on it again.
Only me.
“Good. Keep it that way,” Coach replies, pulling his baseball cap off and swiveling it forward. He nods at the office door. “Go ahead and join the others for conditioning. I’ve got a few things I need to discuss with Adrian.”
I look at my GM, feeling like I lost my only ally.
“I don’t know any other way to be. You knew what you were getting when you signed me.” My words are wrapped in frustration.
He runs his tongue across his bottom lip, considering an appropriate response. “Stay out of trouble and in control of your temper, and we won’t have a problem, Tommy.”
