“Sinclair, I blew the whistle twice!” Coach yells and I look over at him, confused.
“Sorry,” I say as he blows it again and then sends the puck over to me. Taking it, I carry it up, Markus right beside me as we cross the blue line and Gordon digs in to crash the net. Going in with him, I pass it to Markus, who sends it back to Drake. He shoots it, hard, and it whizzes by, hitting Trevor, our goalie, in the chest before rebounding onto Gordon’s stick. He shoots, but it hits the crossbar, coming back to me just as I skate up. Taking it, I pass the puck behind me since I don’t have the shot. But I know Markus does, and it sails right over Trevor’s shoulder.
“Great job!” Coach yells out as I hit my glove to Markus’s. “Okay, everyone. Laps.”
Some groan, but I honestly need to clear my head, and I take the laps as a blessing. As I drift across the ice, I still can’t shake the feeling she only said she wanted to be my girlfriend to keep me from seeing what she was hiding. And that makes me mad. But then, what reasons do I have for that? Am I just jumping to conclusions because I’m confused and worried? How is that helping anything? I need to talk to her, but something about that makes me nervous. She is locked so tight about everything, what will happen if I pry?
Will she call it off?
Fuck, I don’t want that.
But I can’t sit here with this dread in my stomach, hoping she is okay. She always says I won’t understand. And yeah, I don’t understand how she could hurt herself. But if she explained it, maybe I could. Man, what the hell is going on? I just feel sick, and it isn’t from the night of drinking. It’s from being worried sick about her. I don’t want her to hurt.
Digging in, I finish my laps quickly, wanting to get off the ice to shower. I’m the first one done, and while I’m anxious to escape the ice, I know I can’t. I have to push my team, and soon I’m skating with our slowest lapper, Drake.
“You can go, bro,” he says like he always does, but I shake my head.
“Nope, I’m with you to win it.”
He gives me a sheepish grin, and then we are skating in silence. He is a quiet guy, and Lord knows I don’t want to talk right now. As we skate, Coach leans against the board, watching as Drake slows a bit. I can tell he’s getting tired, but I tap his shin.
“Two more.”
“This sucks,” he complains and I nod.
“For sure, but come on.”
He finishes, barely, before heading off the ice. Before I can follow him, though, Coach stops me. “Sinclair.”
I pause, closing the rink door before taking my glove off to unhook my helmet. “Yeah?”
“You okay?”
I nod, pushing my cage up. I look down at my skates, acting as if I’m kicking the ice from them. “Yeah.” It’s still hard to look in this guy’s eyes, but it’s getting better, I think. I hope.
“You seem a little distracted.”
“Yeah, a lot on my mind.”
He nods. “Yeah, Autumn told me your dad is coming to the game.”
I swallow loudly as I pull off my helmet, shaking my hair out. “Yeah.”
“Are you okay with that?”
I shrug. “Yeah, he’s my dad.”
I can tell he wants to say more. Instead, he looks away, clearing his throat. “Okay, well, whatever is distracting you, let it go. You are my leader, my captain for this team. I need you to be on your game, especially with the scouts being here. I’ve been putting in good words for you with all my buddies.”
I smile. “I’ll be one hundred percent. No worries. And thanks a lot, Coach.”
He grins. “You know you can call me River off ice, if you want.”
I jerk my gaze to him, my eyes wide. “No way.”
He laughs. “Too much?”
“Yes,” I gasp. “Even if you marry my mom, you will still be Coach, Coach.”