Page 28 of Puck My Stepbrother (Pucked and Possessed #2)

LEVI

“ D o you understand the gravity of what’s happening to you, to this team?” Coach Hardison asked.

He sat across from me, behind his enormous desk, making me feel like I’d been called into an ivory tower. When he leaned forward, I wondered if he meant to intimidate me, but I wouldn’t flinch. I hadn’t feared blowback from Ryan Detenbeck, so I wouldn’t fear it from Coach Hardison, either.

“I do, sir.”

He was the coach, and I was the player. What the hell else could I say?

“Now, let’s review…”

Oh God, not a review. That shit drove me and all the other guys on the team nuts.

“When I put you in the starting lineup, I thought you were ready for it. More than ready. Long overdue, actually. You were hungry. You were determined to go out there and leave your mark on the hockey world. You didn’t take shit from anybody.

I thought you’d be able to fill the void that Kayden Preston and Erik De Ruiter left when they were drafted to the pros. But instead of doing that…”

Of course he wouldn’t finish his sentence.

What he didn’t say would pack an even bigger punch than the words that did leave his mouth.

I was a knucklehead jock, but I knew how the world worked.

I also knew that being summoned into the coach’s office was the hockey version of being sent to the principal.

Soon he’d slap my hand and send me on my way.

In other words, I only needed to grin and bear it until our little meeting had ended.

“Things did start out the way I’d hoped,” he said.

“You showed me all the things that made me push you to the top of the depth chart in the first place. Yeah, I know you can be a hothead, but you could really play the game, and that was all that mattered. But in the last six to eight weeks, something’s changed.

I don’t know what. I’ve quizzed your teammates to see if they know why.

Everyone else seems as baffled as I am.”

Thank God Ryan Detenbeck could keep a secret. Only I wasn’t so sure I wanted it kept secret anymore. I’d wanted to tell the goalie all about what had been going on between Quinn and me, but I hadn’t found a good moment.

Still, Detenbeck had been right about one thing: everything that’d been going on in my life had affected my play.

I wasn’t the hockey player I’d been even a month or two ago.

Forget about a quick route to the pros like Preston and De Ruiter.

If I kept this up, there was no telling what would happen.

“It’s my responsibility to make sure every player on this team performs to the very best of their ability,” he said, “and if someone slacks, I need them to pick it up. It’s called accountability.”

I know what you call it, jackass. It’s the very same thing I normally demand from every one of my teammates .

“And there’s even more accountability for guys like me,” he continued. “If the team fails, I lose my job. If you fail in your job, Levi, you lose your job. The NHL will be cutthroat like that. If you want to make it to the pros, you’d best get used to that idea.”

Any other time, I would’ve snapped at Hardison, not giving a shit if he was the coach. No one would talk down to me like that. Even better, I would’ve done anything to prove him wrong and show him what I was made of. The fire that burned deep inside me would’ve intensified until I blew a stack.

“Tell me this all makes sense to you,” he said.

“It does.”

“Then what’s your excuse? How can you possibly defend the change in your play we’ve all seen out there?”

I said nothing. My temperament hadn’t changed.

I’d just quit caring about the things that used to matter to me.

Before, hockey had consumed my entire life, though sex ranked a close second.

Even that had only been a source of extra fun.

And then Quinn had walked back into my life.

Sex became better than ever. Of course, I understood that my relationship with Quinn meant a lot more than just sex.

Before, I hadn’t known a single thing about love. In fact, I would’ve considered even thinking about it as something for saps. And then I understood what I felt for Quinn Standish—what I’d always felt for that little ginger-haired nerd—and experienced a change of heart.

Actually, he’d turned my world upside down.

For the first time ever, I hadn’t gotten what I wanted.

No, that wasn’t completely right. For the first time, I hadn’t gotten what I wanted after pushing seriously hard to get it.

I wasn’t used to sitting anywhere else but the driver’s seat for these situations, so this whole ordeal felt so foreign to me.

At no other time had my wants affected other areas of my life. Hockey had always been hockey. It existed on its own plane, separate from my physical passions. And I’d never experienced an emotional passion like this until now.

But could I tell Coach Hardison that? Judging by his expression, that was a resounding no.

“So you know,” he said, “I’ve only cut you the amount of slack I have because you’ve been such a tremendous player. That, and I expected you to get back on your feet.”

“What changed?”

“Now I’m starting to wonder if it’s even possible for you to get back on your feet.”

Honestly, I didn’t know what it would take to get back to normal, either. In fact, I doubted I could even do it.

I understood why I was struggling: I couldn’t stop thinking about Quinn. There was nothing more to it. He’d consumed my every waking thought ever since we moved into the same house.

And I knew Coach Hardison hadn’t been kidding around. Sure, he yelled at me and the other players on the ice all the time. Nothing strange about that. But speaking to me in a normal tone of voice in his office indicated something different. It felt like a parent addressing you by your full name.

He was staring at me. He must’ve figured I had all the answers to my shitty play, and I was just holding out on him.

But nothing other than Quinn Standish mattered to me.

He’d played hard to get. No, he’d played impossible to get, but I knew he didn’t feel that in his heart. He needed me to bring him around, but I still hadn’t figured out how to do that.

“Look, I know where your heart is,” the coach said, “and I’d like to think that you can get back to being the player I know you are. You just need a little push.”

Fuck you, jack , I thought, wanting to actually say it out loud in the worst way.

Instead, I said, “And what kind of push is that?”

“I’m just going to have to lay it out for you, tell you how things are, and see if you smarten up.”

Somehow that felt worse than him screaming at me on the ice.

When that happened, I knew I’d screwed up, and I could easily fix it.

Sometimes I needed some motivation or a kick in the ass.

That was hockey. This felt a lot more serious than any of that.

It was really about Quinn. Unlike hockey, I couldn’t control the situation by focusing more or playing better.

Fate would force me to play the hand it dealt me.

“Let me put it to you this way, Levi. If we lose because of your play, there are going to be consequences.”

“What kind of consequences are we talking about here?”

He paused, like he didn’t want to say it unless he absolutely had to.

“I didn’t want to threaten this, not unless I had to as a last resort. If the Larkin Lions lose because of your poor play, I’ll have no choice but to cut you from the team.”

His words pierced me like a dagger. His voice barely registered with me because I felt so stressed, and yet I heard him loud and clear. I’d taken my share of ass-chewings from him and other coaches, but none had ever threatened to cut me from the team before.

My tongue sat on the floor of my mouth. My lips felt frozen. I wanted to protest in the worst way, but I couldn’t.

“And you know what will happen if you’re cut from the team,” he said.

“I’ll lose my scholarship.”

Could I say anything else?

“Right,” he said, “and if you lose your scholarship, you might not be able to finish your education.”

Won’t be able to finish your education would’ve been much more accurate. Sure, he was playing good cop now, but the seriousness of the situation wasn’t lost on me.

“I’m telling you all this now because I don’t want to see a worst-case scenario happen,” he said. “I want to believe this conversation will accomplish its goal. You’re too good of a hockey player to let something like this happen.”

Normally, I would’ve snapped back at the coach, telling him he was full of shit.

Even better, I would’ve gone out there and shown him why he was wrong and how I was the best player on the ice.

But hockey wasn’t my life anymore. Ditto for my NHL dreams. They mattered, sure, but not in the way they once had.

“Now, do you understand what I’m telling you?” he asked.

I didn’t answer. I felt too weak for that. Shit, I felt stunned.

“Well, do you?”

“I hear you.”

The words barely made a sound leaving my mouth.

Could things get any fucking worse? And then Hardison stood up and left the room, as if to make a dramatic point.

Normally, I would’ve felt like I’d crossed the point of no return.

Like, I should’ve been worried about my whole life going down the drain.

Only this feeling was different. Oh yeah, I understood what I could lose.

Like I said, hockey had been everything to me—before.

Now, other things mattered to me. Quinn Standish, first and foremost. I knew he was being stubborn and everything.

And normally, I would’ve found that stubbornness seriously sexy.

Before, I’d thought I could crack the code, that it would happen sooner or later.

But Quinn had told me in no uncertain terms that he was with Jeff, and that this guy would attend the wedding as his date.

In other words, I should forget about him. Move on. There were millions of fish in the sea.

But Quinn still didn’t understand that Levi Dunn always got what he wanted.

One way or another.