Page 33 of Blindside Me (Cessna U Hockey #3)

CHAPTER THIRTY

Drew

Jade’s hand brushes against mine as we walk up the concrete steps to Coach’s house. It’s not an accident, not even a little. She’s close enough that I feel her heat but not quite close enough to hold on. My stomach churns, and I’m doing my best to ignore it.

Every instinct screams, yes, go for it, but my brain is waving red flags. Why would the team’s star defenseman, the guy with a real shot at the NHL risk it all for the girl next to him? It’s nuts.

But I’m nuts for this girl. And I have to believe Coach will understand.

He has to.

“You okay?” Jade asks, her blue eyes searching mine. “You look like you’re heading to your execution.”

“Just picturing Coach’s face when I tell him I’m sleeping with his niece.”

She punches my arm. “Don’t say it like that. God.”

“Sorry.” I run a hand through my hair. “Didn’t mean it like that.”

But I kind of did. Not because it’s crude. Because it’s real. Because this isn’t some slap-on-the-wrist mistake. It’s a tectonic shift.

My phone buzzes. I expect it’s Easton, wondering where I am. Instead, it’s Blake.

Blake: Amanda told me Jade’s ex texted her yesterday. DO NOT do anything stupid during the game.

My jaw tightens. Roman. Jade’s ex. The same asshole I flattened three weeks ago when he caught me with his sister. I let him get the first punch, but the memory of his smug face makes my grip tighten around my phone.

I glance at her. “Blake says Roman’s texting you.”

Her expression falters for a split second, but I catch it. “I had him blocked. He must’ve used a new number.”

“When?”

“Yesterday morning.” She shrugs, trying for casualness, but missing by a mile. “I blocked the new number, too.”

“New number?” My voice spikes. “He got a new number just to reach you? What’d he say?”

“Nothing important.”

“Jade.”

She sighs. “The usual Roman bullshit. That we have unfinished business. I think he knows about us.” Her gaze finds mine. “I told him to fuck off and blocked him.”

Heat crawls up my neck. Roman knows about us. Which means it’s only a matter of time before the entire locker room knows. Before Coach knows.

“How would he know?”

“I’m not sure. Roman always had some sixth sense about him.”

“He’s not having you tracked, is he?”

Her eyes dull before she shakes her head. “No. I don’t think he’s that obsessive.”

I curl my hands into fists to keep from touching her. I don’t like this.“If he tries to hurt you again, I’ll flatten him.”

“I’m serious, Drew. It’s nothing.” Her voice softens, and she squeezes my arm. “Don’t let him get to you.”

“If he tries anything at the game, if he gets in my face, I’ll?—”

“Drew.”

Jade steps in front of me. Her voice is soft but firm. “Don’t do anything stupid. We have to tell Coach about us first. That’s why we’re here, remember?”

I nod, but the tension in my shoulders refuses to ease. I know she’s right. I know I’m about to make the biggest gamble of my career. And I know, deep down, that Jade is worth it.

“You still should’ve told me.”

“So you could do what? Fight him again? Get kicked off the team?” She folds her arms. “I handled it.”

I want to argue, but we’re in front of the coach’s door now. This conversation will have to wait. The anger simmers in my stomach like acid, mixing with the nerves already twisting my insides.

This could end not only hockey but everything. My future, my shot, the last thread tying me to Jake. My chest tightens, breath shallow. I can’t lose it all. But I can’t walk away from her either.

I knock two sharp raps.

There’s movement. The door swings open.

Coach Howell stands there in Cessna sweatpants and a worn-out T-shirt. Garlic and red sauce hit me in the face. He made his famous spaghetti.

His eyes hit me first, confusion flickering, and shift to Jade. His expression softens, but when he looks back at me, it’s different. Eyes narrowed and veins pulsing only mean one thing. He’s pissed.

He steps back, barely. “Andrew. What are you doing here?”

The question isn’t friendly.

“Coach, I wanted to talk to you about something.” My voice is miraculously steady. “Something important.”

He doesn’t move. “If it’s about practice?—”

“It’s not about practice.”

Coach’s gaze drifts to where Jade’s shoulder nearly touches mine. He grumbles low in his throat.

“Please, Uncle Rick,” Jade says. “Just hear him out.”

His jaw hardens, but he steps aside.

“Fine. Come in.”

The small house is neat and organized. A stack of play diagrams sits on the coffee table beside a half-empty beer. A framed photo of him with a much younger Jade sits on a side table. This is the coach we never see in the rink.

He shuts the door with a hard click.

“Talk.” Coach crosses his arms, not mincing words.

I take a breath. “I wanted to tell you about Jade and me before you heard it from someone else. We’re together. Dating.”

God, did I blurt that out?

By the way Coach freezes and the redness creeping up from his neck, I’d say I did.

“You’re what?”

“We’re dating,” I repeat. “It’s been a few weeks.”

“A few weeks?” He looks at Jade. “And you didn’t think to mention this?”

“I was going to,” she says. “Today. That’s why we’re here.”

Coach turns back to me. His voice drops to that scary quiet he uses when someone screws up a play they’ve practiced a hundred times.

“You know the rules, Andrew. No distractions. Especially not with—” He stops himself, mouth twisting.

“You have any idea what this looks like? One of my players dating my niece?”

“It wasn’t planned,” Jade says, stepping closer to me. “It just happened.”

He stares at her like she’s a stranger.

“Things like this don’t just happen, Jade.”

“I tried staying away,” I say. “I did. But we got to know each other during a class project and … Well, she means more to me than I expected.”

Coach’s eyes track the way Jade leans into me and how my hand finds hers. His silence says more than words.

Then, quietly, he sets his beer down. The sound is final, like the last second ticking off the clock.

“You understand what this could cost you?” he says, eyes locked on mine.

“I do,” I say. “But hiding it is worse.”

He looks at Jade. “You too? You know what this does to him?”

She nods. “But it’s our choice to make.”

Coach runs a hand down his face, suddenly looking every bit his age.

“I trusted you.” He stares at me, but there’s no anger, just exhaustion. “I brought you here. Took a risk. Thought I was helping Jake’s brother.”

The sucker punch lands in my gut.

Jake. My brother. The reason Coach gave me a shot. The reason I’ve busted my ass every day since arriving.

“I’m not taking this lightly,” I say. “She’s not a fling. I respect her. And you, sir.”

He studies me like he’s searching for a crack.

“This doesn’t leave the house,” he says finally. “Not until after next week’s game against Colorado. I don’t need gossip screwing with the locker room right now.”

“Understood,” I say.

“And stay away from her ex. We don’t need another fight, especially on the ice. That shit happens again? You’re off the team.”

My fists clench. “I will try.”

“There’s no trying . You will stay away from him.”

“But he texted her yesterday.”

“Was it threatening?”

“Not exactly,” Jade says.

“Then it’s not your job to handle him. It’s your job to focus on the puck,” Coach snaps.

“He’s a problem.”

“And if you handle him like last time, you’ll lose everything you’ve built.”

A beat.

“Everything your dad wants for you.”

The room goes still.

I picture my dad in the stands, arms crossed, wearing that permanent scowl. Always criticizing.

But what kind of man would I be if I didn’t protect my girl? Who am I if I let someone make a joke out of the person I care about and just stand by? Fuck that. Not going to happen. Ever

My voice comes out cracked. “I’m not promising to stay out of it.”

I can’t. Not when it comes to Jade.

Coach steps forward. “Then hear me clearly. If you screw this up, if you fight, if your play dips, if you make her cry … you’re done. No exceptions.”

“Uncle Rick,” Jade says softly.

He raises his hand, cutting her off. “You two made your choice. But don’t expect a round of applause. I should cut you right now.” His eyes pin me. “But damn it, I want you to succeed.”

I nod, feeling the weight of it. “I have nothing but good intentions toward Jade.”

“Words,” Coach says. “Actions matter more.”

He exhales hard, then turns back toward the kitchen. “Dinner’s ready. Hope you like spaghetti.”

I glance at Jade, at the stubborn tilt of her chin and the softness in her eyes, and know that whatever comes, she’s worth it.

Game on.

And I have no intention of losing.