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Which is one reason I feel sick standing outside his office. I’d barely taken off my pads, when my name was called out with two others–freshmen. Every eye in the locker room was filled with both pity and irritation. Reese didn’t even look at me, just tossed his dirty practice uniform in the bin and stalked into the showers.

You’d think my seniority would give me the perk of going in first, of ripping off this Band-Aid, but that’s not how Bryant works. He’s going to make me stand out here in the hallway and suffer.

The door opens and Craddock and Moriano, the freshmen, step out, both pale and quiet. I raise my eyebrows, hoping to get some kind of idea of how bad it’s going to be. Suspended? Kicked off?

“Rakestraw,” Coach Green says, “you’re up.”

“Yes, sir.”

The good news, I think, as I step in the room, is that the workout forced the toxins out of my system. I’m exhausted, but awake, the nausea not completely gone, but less of an imminent threat. Coach Green shuts the door behind me, and takes the only available seat, leaving me to stand in front of the desk. It’s impossible not to remember the long dormant memories of similarly standing in front of my father in his office, waiting for a similar ax to fall.

“As I’m sure isn’t a surprise, your urine test came back positive for cannabis,” Coach Bryant says, looking from the sheet with the test results to meet my eye. “The blood results won’t get here until next Monday.”

He’s right, it isn’t a surprise. I’d smoked up with the rowing guys before the party last night.

“I’m sorry, Coach. I fu–,” I swallow, “screwed up.”

“You sure the fuck did, Axel,” he says, apparently not worried about cursing. “You’re not one of these green freshmen like Craddock and Moriano coming in here learning the ropes and figuring out how to balance college life and D1 hockey. You’re a senior. An adult. And you know the expectations I have on players on this team and the rules you have to follow to stay on it.”

I know better than to respond. When Coach strings together more than six words, it’s best to let him get it out of his system.

“You know that when a team has a run as good as we are on, others are going to do anything to slow us down, including sending in reports to the committee that suggests there may be drug use on the team.” His jaw sets. “Catching a few starters in a sweep is a dream come true, which is why we have to be better, more diligent, than everyone else in all areas.”

“I know,” I say, when it seems like he’s taking a break. “I do, sir. I know.”

“Do you?” he asks, sighing and resting his forearms on the desk. “I won’t bullshit you, Axel. You’re our starting goalie. An integral part of the team and even with that, I’d be willing to toss your ass out on the street today and pull up one of those younger kids to take your place.”

I tilt my head. There’s a ‘but’ coming. Please let there be a but coming.

“But you lucked out. The NCAA has loosened its policy on cannabis use. You get a one time pass.” He looks a little disappointed. “Although there will be a probationary period and mandatory education.”

I’d heard something about this, but wasn’t sure how the policy shook out inside an organization. “Whatever is needed, I’ll do it. I don’t want to let you or the team down.”

“I hope you mean that, because with your seniority, you’re on the hook. Cutting the freshman would be easy, but you’re the example here. A leader on the team, if you like it or not. I need you to step up for them as much as the men out there looking to go all the way to the finals.”

I rankle at the term leader. That’s not something I’ve ever aspired to be. I’m not Reese, who was born to wear the captain badge. I’m just here to live my best life, play some kick-ass hockey, until I get called back home–back to my true calling.

Coach Bryant studies me for a moment. The man was an All-American back in his day. His instincts are top notch and he must sense something because he sets the report aside and says, “You’re a good player, son. You can have a career if you want it, you know that right?”

Ah, but that’s the question. What do I want? Fuck if I know. Fuck if it even matters. I can say what Idon’twant, which is the life expected from me by my family. Taking over my father’slegacy. Becoming a leader in a whole different world, one I don’t even respect. I’ve been given a reprieve. Four years to escape life in Texas, time away from my family, and the obligation that comes with my last name. I’m here to have fun, to do all the things that won’t be allowed of me once I graduate. My father views it all as a rebellion: tattoos, women, hockey, excess. But it’s just me trying to live my life while I can, pretending like the future isn’t coming for me.

“The league is showing interest, but taking the path toward the draft is hard work. It requires absolute dedication and focus, and I don’t always get that drive from you.” Coach leans back in his seat, his thumb spinning the heavy gold ring on his finger. “Whether you realize it or not, your teammates look up to you. Those two knuckleheads that just walked out of here think you’re a fucking god. They rely on you, and in general, you pull through.”

In general, but not this time.

“Tell me something, Axel.” He levels me with one last hard look. “I’m not going to be surprised by anything on the blood test, am I?”

“No, sir. It was just a joint at a post game party. Nothing else.”

That, at the very least, I’m sure of.

“In three weeks, you’ll be retested, per NCAA rules. If you’re clean, we can put this behind us and move forward.” He frowns. “If not, well, the rules aren’t as lenient the second time.”

“Understood.”

He jerks his chin at the door. “Now get the hell out of here, you smell like a locked up boot bin.”

“Yes, sir.”