Page 10
Story: Playmaker
“Nothing going on,” I said with a grin. “Just showing the prospects how we play at this level.”
Coach was unamused. “Whatever this is”—she pointed to each of us—“unfuck it, or else one of you is going to be playing someplace else.”
Then she skated away to join the rest of the team by the whiteboard, leaving me alone with Lila. I wasn’t sure what Coach meant by “someplace else”—if that was a threat to send one of us to the minors or to trade us out of Pittsburgh. Whatever the case, I wasn’t interested in going anywhere else, least of all because Lila Hamilton had her nose out of joint over something.
I turned to Lila and asked under my breath, “You have a problem, Hams?”
“No problem at all,” she growled back.
“Oh, yeah?” I nodded toward the boards where she’d checked me. “So what was that all about?”
“Exactly what you said.” She smirked and shrugged. “Showing the prospects how we play at this level.” Then she added a more acidic, “And making sure they know we don’t handle the nepotism babies with kid gloves.”
Before my jaw had finished falling open, she was skating away, leaving me standing there with white hot anger roiling in my chest.
Thatwas what this was all about? Seriously? Ugh. For God’s sake. It was bad enough everyone and their goddamned mother in the media thought I was only here because of nepotism. I didn’t need one of my own teammates fueling that bullshit.
A knot wound beneath my ribs as I scanned the ice, taking in the sight of my teammates, from those I’d played with before to the ones I’d only recently met.
How many of them agreed with Lila and the press?
How many of them thought I didn’t actually belong here?
Goddammit.
And how many of them would turn on me once Lila and the reporters dripped enough poison in their ears?
Renewed fury surged inside me. I’d already been less than thrilled with Lila’s frosty attitude toward me. Now I was pissed that her bullshit might infect the rest of the team, and even more so when I realized my focus was gone. She was screwing with my concentration. She had no right to live rent-free in my head, and I wasn’t going to put up with it.
I joined my teammates and took a knee in the back row, and I fumed throughout the offensive coach’s explanation of our next drill and its objectives. When she dismissed us to set up for the drill, a few players did some slow skating around the ice just to keep their legs loose. Not unusual.
While they did that, I found a puck and headed for the untended goal, and I slapped that puck hard into the back of the net.
Fuck Lila Hamilton. I’dearnedmy place here, and I was going to earn my place on the roster. On the top six. Hell, I wanted the topline. I was going to prove to Lila Hamilton, to my father, to my ex-husband, and to everyone else who thought I’d come here on Easy Street that Ideservedto wear this sweater.
Nepotism my ass.
Chapter 5
Lila
“There has to be something in the Geneva Conventions about this,” I gritted out as I gingerly bent and straightened my knee. “I feel like I should report you to the Hague.”
Collette, my physical therapist, snorted. “You’ll feel better tomorrow and you know it.”
I huffed. She had a point, no matter how much I wanted to argue that she wasmeanandeviland just enjoyed sadistically manipulating my poor knee. But… yeah… it usually felt better the next day. And if not, the day after that.
It just sucked in the moment, sort of like how blocking a puck with my body hurt like hell, but it was sure worth it when it kept the other team from scoring.
“So what do you think?” I rubbed the side of my knee. “Am I getting better?”
I didn’t like the way she quirked her lips and skimmed over her notes. I knew physical therapists and doctors didn’t have instant answers, and there were often a lot of layers to whether something was improving or not. But my gut said she was avoiding my gaze.
I could’ve been wrong. I’d started working with Collette when I’d first arrived in Pittsburgh, and that had only been a few weeks. Long enough to figure out someone’s tells, but maybe not all of them.
Frowning, she met my eyes. “I do think it’s improving, but I also think you’re pushing yourself too hard if you want to continue on that trajectory.”
My stomach somersaulted, and I forced a laugh. “I’m a hockey player. That comes with the territory.”
Table of Contents
- Page 1
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- Page 9
- Page 10 (Reading here)
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