Page 19 of Learn Your Lesson

“Bro, relax. It’s practice.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t fuck around in practice like you dumbasses.”

“I was giving you the assist!”

“You were wasting oxygen and skating like a goddamn baby giraffe.”

I slammed my hand hard into Suter’s chest, skating him backward and away from our teammate. He pointed a thick finger over my shoulder at the rookie before shaking me off and skating away like he was just going to get right back to practice.

But I snatched him by his jersey again, dragging him with me to the bench.

Aleks Suter was a big sonofabitch. He was just as tall as I was and built like an MMA fighter, every muscle in his body sculpted by rigorous workouts and skating. Still, I slung him onto our bench like he was a teenager who weighed nothing, narrowing my gaze as he ripped off his helmet and glared at me.

“Cool off,” I ordered.

Before I could skate away, he spat near his feet, offering me something between a glare and a cocky grin. The motherfucker was intimidating. He had his last team wrapped around his finger until the moment his general manager booted him, and the only reason he was here was becauseourgeneral manager loved anything that served as a spectacle and got asses in our seats.

ButIwasn’t intimidated by Aleks — not even a little bit.

And I was hell bent on whipping him into an actual teammate who could be useful.

“You’re not my daddy,” he said, standing, but I shoved him back down onto the bench.

“You’re already on two strikes,” I reminded him. “One more, and you’re off this team and likely out of the league completely. Is that what you want, tough guy?”

His jaw ticced, nostrils flaring as he returned my hard stare. He was like a mustang that refused to break, but I knew that he didn’t want to lose hockey.

If I had to guess, I’d say it was the only thing that actually mattered to him.

He didn’t realize it, but I saw right through his act. I knew that behind all that anger and aggression, he was dealing with something none of us understood.

I knew because I’d been there myself.

I didn’t knowwhathe was running from, exactly, and to be frank — I didn’t give a fuck. All I needed was for him to rein it in enough to be a good fucking teammate and help us get the Cup. I wanted to help him, the way my mentor helped me when I was in a similar spot.

But unlike my mentor, I didn’t have the patience to hold this prick’s hand.

I didn’t give two fucks if he ended up out of the league — not if that was what was best for this team. But as it stood, Coach McCabe had put his faith in me to give this clown a little guidance, to help him reach his potential.

I’d do anything for Coach because he’d been one of the men to save my ass.

After I lost Jenny, I was drowning. I could barely get myself up in the morning to care for Ava. When Ididmake it to the arena, which wasn’t much, I was like a ghost — a really pissed-off, irritable ghost.

Because losing Jenny was more complicated than anyone realized.

Jenny and I weren’t ever lovers — not in the traditional sense. She was my best friend, someone I laughed with and trusted. When we felt like it, we fooled around, but that was where we drew the line.

Until things got serious.

She got pregnant.

Marrying her was the easiest thing in the world. Nothing was complicated with us. We had an agreement, an understanding to raise our kid together and still live our lives the way we had been.

But somewhere along the way, I realized I loved her. Not in the passionate way love is portrayed in the movies, but in the comfortable, warm and reliable way. I came to care for her more than anyone else in the world.

And I never got the chance to tell her before she died.

Our goalie at that time was a senior veteran, a beast of a man who had a great career but was on his way out. His name was Sven, and he was trying to preparemeto fill his role.