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The double doors at the front open, and laughter immediately follows. Tyler and a couple of other guys who play on the second and third forward lines filter into the room, but the moment he claps eyes on me, his smile fades.

Yeah, I was spot-on. He’s not changed one fucking bit.

He holds eye contact for a few seconds before he’s broken away when one of the guys nudges him on the arm, asking him to look at something on his phone. Tyler grins in response, but I can tell it’s muted. Part of me wonders if his reaction to whatever he’s looking at would be different if I wasn’t watching. The other part of me doesn’t give a fuck.

“Played with him back in Seattle, right?” Sawyer nods his head toward Tyler.

I run my tongue across my bottom lip, a sour taste overtaking the Gatorade. “Yeah,” is all I say, hesitant to add any more at this point.

“I don’t like him,” Sawyer says.

I snap my head to him, staggered the captain went there with a player on his team, especially one who’s still considered a rookie after only a single season with the Blades. “Why?”

He dips his head and lowers his voice a couple of octaves. “There was this guy who used to play for us a few seasons back. He was our assistant captain before he basically got kicked off the team when the Blades refused to renew his contract.”

“Alex Schneider?” I ask.

Sawyer nods subtly, his brows lifted in Tyler’s direction. “Well, he gives me Schneider vibes, and I don’t like it. Something tells me you aren’t his number one fan either.”

“How can you tell that?” I ask, offering a casual shrug.

He picks up his bottle of water and unscrews the cap, a smirk tracing his lips. “Because right about now, your faces match.”

I blow out a low-grade laugh. “I’ve got my thoughts on him.”

“Yep. And he has his on you—most of them he’s said out loud as well. He’s your main skeptic for sure.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” I counter. “So, is there anyone nice around here?”

Sawyer snorts a laugh. “Yeah, pretty much the entire team.”

“Feels like it,” I reply sarcastically, tracking Tyler’s movements to where he joins the table directly in front of us.

The doors push open again, and Jon walks in, a binder tucked under one arm, a blue cap covering his brown hair, and a coffee in his left hand.

Setting the cup and file down on a small table at the front, he props his hands on his hips as he waits for Tyler to stop talking.

Clearing his throat, Jon finally has everyone’s attention, andhe tips his head over his shoulder toward the projector behind him. “All right, now that I’ve got everyone’s attention, I guess we can get on with things. First off, welcome back. There are a few new faces that I’m sure you’re all familiar with. Take the time to speak to each other because I’m not about to start carrying out kindergarten introductions. Second, the next couple of weeks are going to be like nothing you’ve experienced before. Some of you have been playing pro for years, and others are fresh into it. But let me tell you, this is going to be your hardest preseason yet.”

When Jon pauses, Tyler turns over his shoulder, grinning at me, but I ignore it, used to his games.

“There are no free passes here. Everyone will fightand earntheir place on the team. Last season was one up from the shit show the fans had previously witnessed, but this right here is where we turn it all around. From now until June, you will live and breathe hockey, every single one of you.”

“Wait.” Tyler speaks up. “June? Like, that’s playoff territory.”

Jon’s hands slide into the pockets of his dress pants. “Damn right it is. You got a problem with that? Have you developed an allergy to success?”

I press my lips together to fight back laughter, and out of the corner of my eye, I notice Sawyer swipe a hand across his mouth.

“No,” Tyler replies.

“Good. And, yes, very astute, Bennett. June is indeed playoff time and not jet-off-somewhere-hot-and-tropical territory, like many of you here seem to think it is. This time in nine months, you will be a different player, a better player. You’ll all look back on this morning and wonder if you were the same person. There’s a lot of talent in this room, and I’m tired of watching it go to waste. The league is coming for us this season, and most of the teams are viewing games against the Blades as guaranteedw’s. And to them, I say,Fuck that.”

A few claps and appreciative grunts echo around the room, and I turn to Sawyer. “I don’t believe he’s giving anyone on this team preferential treatment.”

His green eyes settle on me. “Play your best game, get along with the guys, and you’ll be just fine.”

As the room begins to empty, I push my seat back and stand, ready to head toward the locker rooms and change for our first conditioning session when I feel a hand land on my shoulder.