Page 124 of Role Model

Wiebe leaned back in his chair, smiling. “Well, there is that franchise-record win streak.”

“Did anything happen to that coach?”

Wiebe’s smile tightened. “Sure. He’s in the Hall of Fame now.”

Troy’s heart sank. “Oh.”

Coach shrugged. “I don’t regret trying. It’s hard to change anything in this league, though. Anyone who tries tends to get squashed.” He leaned forward. “So here’s what we’re going to do, Troy.”

Troy braced himself. He could withstand whatever the punishment was, he told himself. Especially since he knew the Centaurs organization was on his side.

“Absolutely nothing,” Coach finished. “We’re going to keep winning, and you can post whatever you want, and Crowell can get stuffed. Everyone in management agrees: he can’t really do anything. If he does, we’ll back you up and he’ll look like a monster. Stalemate, I’d say.”

It sounded risky to Troy, but he was still thrilled. “Seriously?”

“Dead serious. Now go get your gear on.”

Troy stood up. “Thanks. And, um, I really like playing here. I know it probably didn’t seem like it for a long time, but I’m glad I’m here.”

“I thought you might be,” Coach said. He put his head down and began scribbling some notes on a lined pad of paper. “Oh, and you should probably disclose your relationship with Harris to management.”

Troy froze halfway to the door. “What?”

Coach glanced up, smiling. “I saw you smooching in his office last week.”

Jesus, had Troy really been that sloppy? Had he really kissed Harris with the door open? He felt like he might combust. “I, uh—we were—um—”

Coach chuckled. “I’m happy for you. I’m just trying to keep you out of trouble.”

“Thank you,” Troy said. Oh god, he really was going to cry if he didn’t get out of there. This day was too much.

He left the office in a daze. There wouldn’t be time to find Harris before practice now, but he was certainly racking up a long list of things to kiss him about.

“Holy smokes!” Wyatt yelled. “When did Chiron turn into an actual horse?”

Harris grinned at the team puppy, who had grown into a decently large dog, and was looking like he might end up around the size of a Bernese mountain dog. “He did some growing over the past month, that’s for sure.”

“No shit.” Wyatt took a knee on the dressing room floor, still wearing his giant leg pads. “Let me get some pets in before Rozanov sees—”

Wyatt was cut off by a banshee scream coming from Ilya’s stall. “What the fuck, Harris? Why is he huge?”

“Dogs grow, Roz.”

Ilya had already crossed the room and was kneeling next to Wyatt, bumping the goalie out of the way. “Chiron! You are such a big boy now! You are like two Chirons!” He thoroughly scratched the happy dog’s ears and neck.

While Ilya and Wyatt warred for Chiron’s affection, Harris glanced at Troy’s empty stall. He’d told Harris last night that he was planning to come out to his mom today, but Harris hadn’t heard from him since. “Was Troy not here today?”

Ilya didn’t look up from Chiron. “He is here somewhere. Showers probably.”

Well. Harris should probably wait then.

“Chiron got some bad news this week,” Harris said. “I mean, maybe he’s not too sad about it.”

Ilya’s head shot up, his eyes wide and horrified. “What news? What is wrong?”

“Turns out he’s not therapy dog material. At least according to the trainers.”

“Impossible,” Ilya said.

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