Page 12 of These Wicked Games (Wicked Sins #1)

Coach Lafleur sighs, scrubbing his hands over his face. “I don’t get enough sleep for this shit,” he grumbles. “Rocky’s wife called, and he’s going into early retirement. He’s not coming back.”

“What the hell happened?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Oli. He got his brains bashed into the crease while he has a newborn at home.

” He takes a deep breath. “He could have died. I don’t blame him.

The thought of leaving his wife to raise their baby alone scared the shit out of both of them.

He’s done. He’s had an amazing career, and ten years is more than a lot get.

I haven’t told the team yet, though, so please keep this between us.

Rocky’s going to tell the guys when we’re allowed to visit.

Landon and Andre are what we have. Deal with it. ”

I can’t process all of this. While I understand where Rocky’s coming from, a pit forms in my stomach.

I can’t believe this. How am I supposed to just work with him?

I can’t trust him. There’s no way I’ll be letting my tests out of my fucking sight.

I’ll walk my piss cups over myself and watch them get tested right in front of me.

“How the fuck did this even happen? He was on the Vipers.”

Coach shrugs, leaning back in his chair and glaring at me. “We got a call. Andre requested a trade. It’s his business why, but we agreed for a future trade. We needed a goalie and Andre is one of the best.”

“You’re being way too generous.” I brace my hands on his desk. “You can’t be fucking serious?”

“Oh, I’m fucking serious,” he grits. “And you will do yourself a favor and get the fuck over it. We have a game in two days, and being late—something Andre wasn’t today—is not very professional.” He glowers .

I’m going to hit something. Or someone. Hey, at least Andre will be within punching distance at all times now. “How am I supposed to just play with him on this team?”

“Like you’re afraid to become a healthy scratch,” he dares, but I know he won’t do that to me. I’m too valuable to this team. I don’t like the implication, though.

I burn with rage. I feel like I’m about to burst into flames.

This isn’t fucking happening. The coach’s door opens with a loud creak.

“Hey.” I turn to see Atlas and Grey in the doorway.

“Not to interrupt the screaming that we all definitely can’t hear but .

. . we’re going out after practice, Kuli.

Want to come?” Atlas asks me. I know he’s trying to calm me down, but I can’t.

I feel betrayed. This is my house. My fucking home.

My motherfucking team. Andre is going to kick the door in and tread all over my floors with muddy fucking boots.

“Looking a little purple there, Kuli. Why don’t you give us all a deep breath. ”

“No. And I’m not going out!”

“Yes you are,” Coach says at the same time I decline.

“Get out of my office, Kuli. Go practice. End of discussion. Get over it.” Get over it?

! You get over a fucking cold; you don’t just get over your fucking rival playing on your team.

The same guy who almost destroyed your dream.

“Don’t get too fucked up, though. Game in two days, and I expect everyone here on time and in top condition, with a smile on their fucking face,” he warns us all.

This is a nightmare.

“Whoa, slow down.”

I slam another drink down, ignoring Grey.

“You don’t need to spend your day off sick,” Atlas warns. I can’t fucking believe this. Coach has to be fucking with me. Andre motherfucking Tavares. No fucking way. How can I deal with this?

Well hey, it means Tripp may be around, I guess.

But not even that can lighten my mood. Tripp is the reason why I got into hockey to begin with.

One day my mother was flipping through channels and a game was on.

I asked her to stop, and I sat there for nearly three hours and watched that game.

From that day on I was hooked. Tripp’s story is inspiring, much like my own.

He came from nothing, worked his ass off, and is one the best players to ever grace this game.

Even that isn’t enough to lighten my mood, though.

“Hey.” I look up at the leggy blonde who’s stopped at our table with a friend.

Atlas snaps to attention, while Grey subtly shakes his head, looking away.

“Are you The Wolf?” She giggles at Grey, then looks at her friend.

Atlas throws on the biggest smile he can manage as his gaze swings to Grey, and something passes through his electric blues before they swing back to the girl, who is half in his seat now.

Grey ignores her, taking a drink, but Atlas, with plenty of charm to spare, grins wide. “He is. And I’m Atlas.” Oh, here we go . “And what are your names?”

“Destiny.” The blonde giggles. “And this is my friend, Monica.” Her friend waves shyly at us. Just as beautiful as the blonde bombshell she’s here with. “You guys are incredible. I love hockey. ”

“Thanks.” Atlas moves over, making room for Destiny, and Grey gets up, grabbing another chair to sit on, allowing Monica to sit next to me.

Her thick brown hair falls in waves, brushing me as she sits down.

It’s not like I’m not interested in women—I have eyes and Monica is gorgeous—but my mind right now is full of Andre.

“Why does he turn your light on?”

Fucking Vanessa!

I still can’t believe we signed him. Andre is a great player, I’ll give him that, but still.

So are a lot of other people, and this is going to fuck everything up.

“So, do you boys want some company later?” Destiny sets her blue eyes on Atlas, clutching onto his bicep.

Monica is beside me, but I can feel the nervousness she’s trying to hide.

It practically radiates off her. Destiny’s in control, and Monica seems like she wants to be anywhere else right now.

Same, girl.

“I’m beat.” Grey finishes his drink, giving us a weary smile. “These two will entertain you, though, I’m sure of it.”

Slamming my last drink down, I try to clear my mind. Breathe in. Breathe out. My buzz is not making me feel better at all. “I’m beat too.”

Atlas looks at both of us before his eyes land on Grey for a couple of moments, then they snap back to Destiny as she purrs, “Well, whatever will we do with just you?” She laces her manicured nails around Atlas’s bicep, then eyes her friend who’s looking more uncomfortable by the second.

“I don’t—”

“Do you want a ride home?” Grey asks Monica.

“Oh.” Monica’s eyes go to Destiny, who’s looking less concerned about her friend and more concerned with how fast she can rip Atlas’s pants off.

“I can get my own ride.” Smart girl. Neither Grey nor I would ever harm a woman, but she has good instincts.

“Want us to wait for your ride with you outside?” I ask.

“If you don’t mind.”

“Mon, what the hell? Why don’t you come back with us?” Atlas smiles at her but there’s something off about it too. Before I can comment on it, a genuine smile slips back onto his face.

“I’m tired. It’s getting late.” She eases out of the seat and I stand after her. “Call me in the morning.”

“Oh.” Atlas throws an arm around her friend’s tiny frame. “She won’t be awake until late in the morning.” That makes Destiny giggle, and you know, good for them both. If she thinks she’s going to be the next Mrs. Sgarbossa, though, she’s got another thing coming to her.

“I’ll call you when I can tomorrow.”

“Great,” Monica says tightly. We follow her out of the bar, and the chill of the night mixed with the amount of alcohol I’ve consumed gives me a headache.

I just want to go home and fucking sleep, but that will only bring tomorrow a bit closer.

I’m dreading it. This is how it’s going to be from now on.

Our fucking goalie. I’m giving him no head taps when we win! Fuck that. Coach can’t make me.

Okay, wow, I sound like a brat. Still, this is just insane to expect me to deal with.

It’s one thing that we don’t like each other.

Fine. I can swallow that. Having him here is a joke, though, and I’m going to watch my back twenty-four seven now.

I don’t trust him, and I can’t believe there was ever a time I did.

I can’t believe there was a time when he was the most important person in the world to me.

Then he shattered everything .

The cool air hits me the second we leave the little bar.

It does nothing to calm my headache or stop the thoughts circling my brain.

“Ugh, thank god.” My head whips to Monica as we walk to the edge of the road.

“I’m sorry, but I cannot deal with her. I really fucking can’t.

” The language shocks me. Monica reaches into her pocket, grabbing a cigarette and lighting up.

“I’m sorry, both of you seem very nice, but I am so far beyond interested in either one of you. ”

Her change in tone makes me laugh. “Sweetheart, same.” Grey smiles at her.

She eyes him for a moment before flitting her brown eyes to me. Her pale face pinkens with the chill of the night air. “Destiny is determined to land herself a hockey player.”

“And what are you after?” I ask.

Those flirty eyes land on me, looking me up and down. “Honey, you’re missing some things up here.” She waves a hand over my chest. “And I have a real issue about what’s going on down there.” She points to my dick.

“Excuse me.” I glare. “I have great tits.”

She snorts. “I like you.” Sighing, she loops her arm through mine, resting her head on my bicep.

“I don’t know why she feels the need to bring me along.

I just wanted to have a fun night out with my friend, but the moment you guys sat down she was plotting her next move.

” She sighs. “She deserves better. No offense. I’m sure your friend is nice. ”

“Atlas is . . .”

“Atlas,” Grey finishes. “Your friend is in safe hands, though. Safe, clumsy hands. ”