Page 35

Chapter Thirty-Four

Troy

Out on the ice, the mood’s just as shitty as it was in the locker room. Nobody’s talking, and when they do, it’s short and snappy. Passes are sloppy, shots are off, and tempers are flaring.

“Declan, wake the hell up!” I yell as he misses yet another pass.

“Don’t start with me, Troy,” he snaps back, skating past me.

I grit my teeth, trying to hold it together. But it’s hard when everyone’s so on edge. Even Coach looks like he’s ready to throw his clipboard.

“All right, bring it in!” he finally shouts, blowing his whistle.

We all skate to the bench, forming a loose huddle. Coach looks us over, his eyes hard.

“I know this isn’t what you wanted to hear,” he says, his tone firm but understanding. “But this isn’t the end. Not yet. We’ve got a season to finish, and I expect every single one of you to give it everything you’ve got.”

Nobody says anything, but I can see the fight still simmering in their eyes. We’re not done. Not by a long shot.

“Now, get back out there,” Coach barks, stepping back.

We break, heading back onto the ice. It’s still tense, but at least we’re moving. And as I take my position, I make a silent promise to myself.

This merger might be happening, but I’ll be damned if I let it destroy this team.

The rest of practice is just as rough, and that is putting that nicely. It’s like everyone forgot how to play hockey.

Axel delivers a slap shot that sails so wide it smacks into the glass. Finn’s skating like he didn’t sleep last night, and Ryan looks more interested in the ceiling than the puck. Carter’s hanging back, barely engaged, which is starting to piss me off.

“Are we playing hockey or auditioning for the circus?” I yell, slamming my stick against the ice.

Finn glares at me. “Why don’t you show us how it’s done then, Adams?”

“I would if I didn’t think I’d break my neck from all this half-assed skating!” I shoot back.

Axel groans. “Can we just get through this without the drama?”

“Drama? This isn’t drama. This is me trying to make sure we don’t get steamrolled by the Devils,” I snap.

Coach Nate’s whistle pierces the air, cutting me off. “All right, enough! Everyone to the bench!”

We trudge over, helmets off, sweat dripping down our faces. Coach’s expression is tight, like he’s two seconds away from throwing something.

“First off, what the hell was that?” he says, pacing in front of us. “That was the most embarrassing practice I’ve seen in months. You think this is how we’re gonna take down the Missouri Devils?”

No one answers. Even Declan’s quiet, which is rare.

“Look, I know the rumors are out there. I know everyone’s on edge. But you’ve got a game coming up, and you need to put all this merger bullshit out of your heads. Let me and the higher-ups deal with that,” Coach continues, his voice sharp.

Axel folds his arms. “Yeah, but what if it actually happens? How the hell are we supposed to play when we don’t even know if we’ll have jobs next season?”

Coach pins him with a glare. “By playing like you want to keep those jobs, that’s how. You want to give the Blackhawks or whoever else an excuse to bench you? Keep this up. See where it gets you.”

Declan mutters something under his breath, and Coach spins on him. “Got something to add, Hughes?”

Declan shrugs, looking annoyed. “Just saying, they suck. The Blackhawks. Always have.”

Coach exhales sharply, then points at Carter, who’s still sitting silently in the corner. “What about you, Novak? You good?”

Carter nods but doesn’t say anything.

Coach lets out a frustrated sigh. “All right. Listen up. Collins is out today, so you all need to step up. The Devils are tough. You can’t bring this weak crap to the ice and expect to win.”

Finn frowns. “And if we lose?”

“Then you lose knowing you gave it everything. Not whatever the hell this is,” Coach says, motioning at the rink.

***

Practice resumes, but the energy’s still off. I can feel it in the way passes miss by inches and shots hit posts instead of netting. It’s like skating through quicksand.

By the end of it, everyone’s drained. Coach blows the whistle one last time and calls us over.

“All right, we’ll stop here. Tomorrow, we regroup, focus, and prep for the Devils,” he says, his tone firm. He glances at Jamie, who’s standing off to the side, watching. “Brooks, head to physio. I want that leg in top shape.”

Liam nods and heads off without a word. The rest of the guys start peeling off toward the showers, but I hang back.

“Coach,” I call out, jogging after him as he heads toward the locker room.

He stops and turns, his expression softening. “What’s up, Adams?”

I hesitate, then just spit it out. “Jared told you about...the babies?”

“Yeah, he did. Congrats, by the way,” Coach says, a small smile breaking through.

“Thanks,” I mutter, rubbing the back of my neck. “But...Coach, we can’t afford to be benched. Four kids between us, mortgages, bills. It’s too much. If this merger screws us…”

“Hey,” Coach cuts me off, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “I get it. Trust me, I do. But you’ve gotta trust me, too. I’ll fight for you and Jamie. You’re both important to this team. Let me handle the politics. You focus on the ice.”

I exhale slowly, nodding. “All right. I trust you.”

“Good. Now, go home,” Coach says, a rare warmth in his voice. “Be with Jamie and your girl. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

As I walk out of the rink, I try to shake the weight sitting heavy on my chest. Coach says he’s got this. I have to believe him—for Jamie, for our girl, for all of us.