Page 66 of Offside Attraction

Hayes takes a step back, breathing heavily, and I can see the anger still swirling in his eyes, but there’s something else too—an uncertainty that wasn’t there before. Finn and Ezra stand by Hayes, trying to check if he’s okay, but Hayes angrily shoves past them.

“Let’s just cool off,” Lance suggests, stepping between us. “Both of you. Before someone gets hurt worse than Dakota already is.”

I glare at Hayes one last time, my chest heaving as I try to catch my breath. The adrenaline is still pumping through me, but the reality of what just happened hits me. I can’t keep letting him get to me like this.

“What’s going on here?” A familiar voice asks, cutting through the sudden silence in the rink. We turn toward the voice, surprised to find Coach River standing on the bleachers staring at us.

“Miller and Griffin, my office. Now!” Coach Rivera calls, shifting his gaze between us as he turns to leave.

ThetensioninCoachRivera’s office is thick enough to cut with a knife. I sit on one side of the room, arms crossed over my chest, while Hayes sits on the other side, his jaw tight, and his eyes staring straight ahead. His lip is busted from where I managed to land a good punch, and I’m pretty sure my knuckles still sting from that blow. There’s a bruise forming on his cheek and I discreetly smile at my handiwork.

My sides hurt from where he had punched me, and there’s a bruise underneath my right eye from where he had managed to land a good right hook. Mixed with the pain from when I’d crash on the rink, I feel like I was just run over by a train.

Coach Rivera sits behind his desk, arms resting on the armrests of his chair as he glares between the two of us. He hasn’t said a word since we entered the office, but the weight of his silence is worse than anything he could say.

“Care to explain what that was?” Coach finally asks, his voice low and dangerous. He looks between us, waiting for one of us to speak. When neither of us does, he slams his hand down on the desk, making us both jump. “I asked a question.”

“It was his fault,” I say at the same time Hayes blurts out, “He started it.”

We both glare at each other, and Coach pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“Enough,” he growls. “I don’t care who started it. I care about how this team looks, and right now, both of you are making us look like a joke.”

“He gave me the wrong directions on purpose,” I say, sitting up straighter in my chair, feeling the anger bubbling back up. “He wanted me to crash into the boards. What kind of captain does that?”

Hayes scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I told you the right directions eventually. If you had any common sense—”

“Oh, so now you’re calling me stupid?” I snap, turning to glare at him. My fists clench in my lap, and it takes everything in me not to get up and start swinging again. “God, you’re so full of yourself you can’t even realize how stupid you sound.”

Coach Rivera slams his hand down again, silencing us both. “I said enough.”

We both shut up, but the tension between us is palpable. Hayes is still smirking, that same smug look he always has when he knows he’s gotten to me, and I can feel the anger boiling beneath my skin.

“What is this about?” Coach Rivera snaps, his voice sharp enough to cut glass. “What were you two doing? We have a home game in less than two weeks, and instead of practicing—thinking of useful ways to beat our opponent—you’re fighting?” He scoffs. “What are you, ten?”

“We’re sorry, Coach,” I say, biting down on my bottom lip as the shame finally starts to settle in.

“You’resorry?” His gaze hardens. “Is that all you have to say?” He shakes his head. “You’re the best players on my team. I’ve watched both of you play since peewee. You’re bigger than this. I thought you two were friends.”

Friends, huh?

“Hayes.” Coach turns to him, eyes unyielding. “You’re the captain of this team. That comes with responsibility. You lead by example—you don’t start fights. If I hear about you pulling a stunt like that again, I’ll bench you for the next game.”

Hayes opens his mouth to argue, but Coach shuts him down with a glare sharp enough to freeze him in place.

“Am. I. Clear?”

Hayes’ jaw tightens, teeth grinding as he nods once. “Yeah. Crystal.”

“Good.” Coach shifts his attention to me. “And you, Miller. I don’t know what happened between you two—whether there’s history or unfinished business—but I know you’re trying to prove yourself. You don’t do that by fighting your team captain. You’re here to be part of this team. Act like it.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, swallowing the response burning at the back of my throat. There’s no point arguing—not with Coach Rivera looking like he’s one breath away from benching us both for the season.

“Let me make one thing clear,” he continues, voice low and final. “I don’t care what happened before. I don’t care about your rivalry. I care about this team. And if either of you puts your ego before it again, you’re both out. No exceptions.”

The words land heavy, final. Coach Rivera doesn’t make empty threats.

“Now get the hell out of my office before I change my mind about letting either of you play.”