Page 17 of Pucked Up

It was not, but I also didn’t have time for a statistics lesson. We stepped into my office, and I walked around my desk, easing into my chair. “Are you comfortable?”

“Yeah. Carol-Ann’s been kind of a pain in the ass lately, but she’s been alright today.”

“Is that your girlfriend?”

He blinked, then burst into laughter and ruckedup the leg of his sweats to show off his prosthetic. It was different than most of the guys wore. It had a flesh-colored cover wrapped around it that looked like it was covered in bite marks.

I did not want to ask.

“I named her Carol-Ann afterPoltergeist. You know that movie, right?”

I nodded.

“Yeah, you get it.”

I did not get it. “So. I want to speak to you about being alternate captain.”

Ford paled. “Look, man. I know Bodie’s been kind of a pain in the ass, but please don’t take it out on me. I work in a goddamn grocery store, okay? I need this.”

“What? No,” I said, leaning over my desk. “Ford—or, ah, Bell. Do you prefer Bell?”

“I do not,” he said with a sniff.

“Ford,” I amended. “I’m not taking away the A. I’m offering you the C.”

He stared at me for a long time. “Okay, but…Bodiehas the C.”

“I’m aware.”

“So…”

I took a long breath, trying to use my words carefully. “So, I’m not so sure he’s the best player to hold it at the moment.”

Swallowing heavily, Ford glanced at the door, then shook his head. “I kind of—” He hesitated. “I’d like to have it when he moves on. I mean, look, Brianwas a decent coach, but he didn’t do the job we needed him to do.”

I had no idea where this was going, so I sat back and let him speak.

“Bodie should have had scouts at our games years ago, but Brian was a chickenshit. He didn’t want to answer awkward questions like, what if your team captain gets pissed off and tries to shove his fingers up the nose of an opposing player, accidentally elbowing a reporter in the face again.”

I bit the inside of my lips to keep them from smiling. I’d seen the video. Boden looked wild and so full of that passion I was only slightly obsessed with. And in Beijing, he’d been ready to commit crimes. It should not have been attractive, but God help me, it was.

“So he just kept blowing him off. And yeah, I know Bode fucked up in Beijing, but he won the fucking gold four years before that. He’s been in a sled since before he could walk—which, I mean, I guess that makes sense. He didn’t walk unassisted until he was seven, but that’s beside the point. He was born with hockey in his blood. You can’t take that from him before he has the chance to prove that he’s not the sum of one fucking terrible mistake. Of which Tucker and I take a lot of responsibility for, by the way.”

I studied him for a long beat. “So, you’re saying?—”

“I’m saying fuck no. I do not want the C. Andfuck you for offering it to me that way. Uh, respectfully,” he added.

“Respectfully.”

His ears pinked. “Yes.”

“But if I were to ask you, should Boden leave the team?—”

“Of his own free will?” Ford chanced.

I spread my hands with a shrug. I had zero intention of taking Boden’s C from him. I had zero intentions of booting him from the community league. I had every intention—so long as he got his head out of his ass and showed me the kind of player I knew he was—of getting a scout here.

But I wasn’t going to tell Ford that. I wanted him freaked-out.