“This shit you two are doing won’t just hurt each other if found out,” I say slowly. “It might hurt those around you. Dean Carter doesn’t deserve that and neither do I.”
They both come to the same understanding at the same time, which would be comical if I weren’t annoyed as fuck with both of them. Before they can argue anymore, I tip my head at Ashton.
“You want to help Bray? Tutor him. He’s failing in two subjects.”
Brayden is already shaking his head. “Fuck no.”
“Yeah… I should probably mention the fact that I’m not doing so hot either.”
“Your dad said—” I start, but Ashton cuts me off.
“That I’m his incredibly smart and also handsome gay son?” Ashton offers, a bitter bite in his tone.
“He left out the handsome part,” I deadpan.
Brayden laughs. “There you go. I’m fucked. Guess I’ll have to figure it out on my own. Just like always.”
I shake my head, pinning Brayden with a glare. “No, Ashton knows people. He’ll hook you up with someone good. Right?”
“As long as she’s hot,” Brayden sneers.
Ashton’s eyes gleam with wickedness. It’s probably a good thing these two hate each other, because on the same team, they’d cause all sorts of shit for those around them.
“Mia. She’s super smart.”
“Mean hot girl Mia?” Brayden asks at the same time I say, “Student Mia?”
Ashton’s hazel eyes sharpen as he smirks. “She’s smarter than the three of us combined. Plus, she already knows what an asshole Brayden is. You won’t have to worry about any funny business.”
I’m not sure how I feel about that, but I’m backed into a corner.
“Fine,” I grunt out. “Make it happen. And, Bray, if I catch you cheating again, I won’t be so understanding next time.”
“Good morning. As most of you already know, my name is Andrew Thompson, and since your coach had to take an unexpected leave for health reasons, I’ll be taking over.”
My gaze skates across the twenty-two players on the team who I’m now responsible for. Several of which I’m the same age as. But unlike me, who was drafted into the NHL at eighteen years old, most of these guys will never play anything past college hockey. Some are here on a scholarship so they can get an education. But for a few, like Brayden, hockey is their life, and this season is do or die for them. Their last chance to prove they have what it takes to make into the pros.
“From the tapes I’ve seen, you guys are good. Last year you made it to the Frozen Four. I’ve gone through and noted who has what strengths, but now I want to see it for myself. We need to get ready for our first game against Western Michigan. And every game counts. So we’re going to work some drills, see what you’re capable of, and then we’ll go from there. I want you here every morning at five a.m. for workout and practice, and back in the gym every afternoon for another workout.”
My eyes meet Brayden’s, who’s making it a point to keep his emotions in check. “Make sure you keep your grades up. I know Coach Garrison was letting shit slide because he was sick, but that won’t happen with me. I’m doing everything by the book. If you aren’t academically eligible to play, you won’t play. If it becomes a thing, you’ll be off the team. If you’re here on scholarship, you’ll lose it.”
Brayden rolls his eyes, but I ignore him, continuing with my speech. “I’ve played hockey my entire life, including three years in the pros. I need you to trust me. Every decision I make may not be the popular one, but it’s being done with one goal in mind. To get you guys to the end.”
Brayden lets out a sarcastic snort that has all the guys looking at him.
“You have something you want to add?” I ask him.
He sneers. “I just think it’s funny that we’re being led by a guy who couldn’t even make it three full seasons in the NHL. We’re supposed to trust you to get us to a championship, yet when shit got tough, you bailed.” He glares at me with what looks like resentment. “Trust is earned, Drew, and until you prove yourself, you can’t expect any of us to trust you.”
The guys murmur at his words, shocked that a player would blatantly disrespect a coach the way he is. I could accuse him of such, force him to skate laps, but I don’t because it will only prove what he’s trying to imply. So instead, I step closer to him and say to the team, “In case you didn’t know, Bray and I have a history. Go way back. That was until he came here and I went to the pros, where I won two rings.”
“And then quit halfway through the third season,” Brayden adds. “How do we know you’re not going to quit on us?”
His eyes are now filled with raw emotion and my heart cracks in my chest. I hurt the man in front of me. We had plans and I walked away. No, I ran. I ran from Brayden, from our friendship. He’s right. Shit got rough and I quit, and now it looks like I quit the NHL, even though that’s not completely true.
“You’re right,” I tell him. “I have to prove myself, and I’ll work every day to do that. To earn your trust, but you’re going to have to meet me halfway.”
Brayden’s and my eyes stay locked on each other for several seconds, and I think maybe he’s going to come around and give me a chance. But then he breaks our stare.
“Whatever,” he mutters. “Are we going to stand around here having a heart-to-heart like little girls, or are we going
