Page 20 of Ice Cold, Red Hot (Coldwater Firehawks Hockey #1)

SHEPHERD

I tried to set my face in stone as I strode through the front doors to the athletic department’s administrative offices. The phone call had been brief and clear—some secretary telling me I had a meeting here Thursday morning at nine.

There was no doubt I looked like shit. I hadn’t slept. My mind was running constant drills for which there was zero defense. I watched my future slip past me over and over… even though I’d done what they said. I had fixed it. Ethan wasn’t going to talk.

But maybe it was already too late.

I approached the desk, where some freshman looked up, clearly work study.

“Hi. I have an appointment at nine. Shepherd?—”

“Renshaw.” She grinned as she said it, her eyes going wide. I couldn’t take it today. I used to live for this kind of unwarranted fan adoration, but now? It was the last thing I needed.

“Yeah.”

She rose, never taking her too-big eyes from my face. “ They’re just in here…” she walked me to the conference room door, as my mind latched onto the word she’d just said. “They’re.” So this was going to be a firing squad.

I stepped inside to find Coach Adams, Leonard Tithes who was the Assistant Athletic Director, and some guy in a suit I’d never seen before.

“Shepherd, have a seat.” Coach waved me into a chair across from the three of them.

Dad would have told me take the seat at the head of the table. The power seat. He would have refused to be made small like this. But I wasn’t Darren Renshaw. And right now? I felt about two inches tall. I sat, a heavy sigh escaping me as I did.

“Mr. Renshaw,” the man in the suit began. “I’m John Asheville, Compliance Officer for Coldwater University.”

I didn’t know what that was, but I knew it was bad. My blood slowed in my veins, my hands gripping my thighs. Here it came.

“We’re here to discuss the incident that occurred at McDougals a week ago Friday. Where you assaulted a graduate student unprovoked.”

I was provoked, but I wasn’t about to try to explain everything now. My mind twisted over itself, looking for a way out of this and running into nothing but dead ends. Was Ethan pressing charges? That little twat…

“While the student involved has graciously dropped charges, the department and the university cannot overlook a clear breach of the student-athlete code. There are the additional issues of conduct unbecoming a team leader, and the negative media attention this has called to our athletics program overall. ”

All three men stared at me as if I’d have some rebuttal, but there was nothing to say. I waited.

“Son,” Coach said. “You’ve left us no choice.”

Director Tithes spoke up, unfolding his too long fingers from where they were folded in front of him to pass me a set of forms. “Effectively immediately, you’re benched for the rest of the season. Not formally suspended, but you won’t be playing.”

“The rest of the season?” I heard myself repeat. This would mean the end. The scouts coming to see me play, the chances for an NHL contract, all of it up in smoke the second my fist connected with Ethan’s nose? And even though I’d done everything I could to “fix” it… none of it mattered.

“We’ll re-evaluate post-season,” Tithes said.

I watched Coach’s face. He knew what this meant. He knew exactly what this meant for me. He grimaced—at least it hurt him too.

“Sign there,” Tithes said, gesturing to the bottom of the printed letter that would end my chances at a hockey career.

I signed.

And then they all stood and filed out. I followed them out the door, but Coach was waiting, and he pulled me back inside.

“One second, Shepherd.”

The door swung shut again, and I stared at him, wishing I could find that look in his eyes—the one he used to give me when I was the hope of the Coldwater team, the one he’d given me when we’d first met. “You know I’ve stood by you for a long time. ”

“Yessir.” I swallowed my pride. Maybe there was still a chance?

“That said, I can’t keep pretending you haven’t burned this team down around you. I’m giving the C to Griff. He’s earned it.”

He might as well have hit me. All the air left my body. It wasn’t like I’d thought I could be captain from the bench, but the reality still landed like a gut punch.

“Don’t make me regret letting you stay on the bench.”

I forced myself to nod. I wasn’t going to beg. Or cry, even though I wanted to do both.

I watched the coach’s back as he left, knowing every single person in my life had decided I was toxic. And worse? I knew they were right.

I headed to practice straight from the meeting, though the rink was the last place I wanted to be.

The locker room was silent the second I walked in, and I gazed around at my teammates.

They already knew.

I turned to Griff, catching his eye for a minute as he paused in getting his pads on. He gave me a tiny nod. At least he wasn’t going to gloat.

The silence was heavy as I pulled on my pads and shoved my things into my locker, and it was honestly worse than if the guys had just pretended it was all fine.

I hated the furtive looks, the presumption of my feelings.

As we were heading out to the ice, one of the sophomores whispered to another, “…benched for good. Man, that’s harsh. ”

“Fuck off,” I muttered to him, but there was no heat in it.

Everyone moved past me as we filed out to the rink, Coach waiting with his arms crossed. The second my skate hit the ice, I felt it—the longing to fly, to watch the puck soar from my stick, to feel the adrenaline as I wound my way through obstacles… It was over.

After practice I didn’t even shower, just ripped off my clothes and grabbed my bag, throwing everything into the truck and heading home, where I dropped my bag inside the door and fell onto my bed.

It was over. Everything I’d worked for.

It was all ruined.

I was too wound up to sleep, but too miserable to leave my room. Hell, I couldn’t even make myself get up and shower. I didn’t even turn on the lights, for fuck’s sake.

I slumped against the headboard and scrolled mindlessly through my phone.

Eventually, I clicked into my messages and pulled up Celeste’s name.

Nothing new, obviously. I’d burned that down along with everything else.

I’d told her she was a distraction, when really?

She was the only thing I had that made me feel like I was worth a damn.

She was the only person in my life who made me feel like I had a lick of value outside of hockey. And I’d pushed her away.

I typed out a message: Sorry.

But I didn’t send it. One pathetic word could hardly undo the complete destruction of any trust we had .

I leaned back and let my eyes drift shut, subjecting myself to the memory of those faces across the table, the faces of my teammates in the locker room, the way Coach had watched me on the ice at practice. Ruined. I’d ruined it all.

I heard Griff come in, but he didn’t come to talk to me. He rustled around in the kitchen for a while and then I heard him go to his room. He didn’t know what to say, and I know I hadn’t made it easy on him. Maybe I’d ruined that relationship too.

I was pretty close to the bottom of the depths of my wallowing when a sharp knock came at the front door.

I waited, expecting Griff to grab it, but when I didn’t hear anything and the knock came again, I hauled myself off the mattress.

My body was heavy—all this useless muscle with zero purpose and no motivation.

The living room was dark and I didn’t bother flicking on a light, just glanced at the clock. Eleven-thirty. I pulled open the door, ready to light into whatever asshole was in the hall, but the sight of my brother shut me up.

“What’s up, baby bro?” Blake stood there in the dimly lit hallway in a sleek black coat, tailored pants, and shoes that were just a hair too shiny. Perfect as usual. The golden Renshaw in the flesh.

“Dad send you here to do his dirty work?”

“Gonna invite me in, or wanna keep projecting for a bit?” Blake’s thousand-watt grin made me want to punch him.

I stepped back, allowing him to step inside. He had a suitcase. What the fuck was this?

Door shut, I turned to face the man who I’d spent my life trying to follow—the guy whose shadow was too big for me to ever find a way into the sunlight.

“Let me guess. You flew in to tell me what a disappointment I am to the family.”

“Something like that. Got a beer?” Blake looked around and wandered to the kitchen.

“No. You’re not staying. Just say what you came to say, and then head back to the NHL, Blake. Back to Dad’s golden pedestal.”

Blake pulled a beer from the refrigerator and turned to face me, leaning his hip against the counter. “You’re in it deep, huh?”

I stared at him. “What do you think? I’m benched and they took captain.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean with hockey. I meant you’re really into this whole self-pity thing right now.”

“Fuck you.” I left him there, turning to head into the bathroom where I turned on the shower and fan and vowed to stand under the scalding water until something inside me shifted. Or until I’d figured out how to accept what I couldn’t change.

I did what they said. I fixed it. I fixed it the way Dad would have done himself… but for me? It didn’t matter. I wasn’t the golden Renshaw, I was the black sheep and nothing had changed at all. And now? My ticket out of the shadow had disappeared.

If I wasn’t team captain—the guy everyone expected to get drafted… who the hell was I? I braced my hands against the shower wall and let the water pour over me. I’d lost absolutely everything.