For half a second, I considered telling Paige to deal with Rissa. Violet’s fingers were curled in the front of my shirt as her long, wavy hair fell over her shoulders. I can still taste her skin on my tongue when I trailed kisses along her collarbone.
I had finally stopped thinking like a team captain, being the one who was always steady. I started thinking like Skye.
Violet has that effect on me.
By the time I drop her off in her hotel room and close the door, my expression is reset. I’m captain again, and not the girl who was just kissing someone like I’m starving.
Inside Rissa’s room, the air smells wrong. Paige is looking at me as I step inside, and a few of the other girls are on her couch, lined up like they’re waiting for a lashing.
They fucked up.
Half of them are piss drunk, and I don’t even know what to do. I could call Coach and tell her what happened, but the last thing she needs is a mess to clean up. She brought us here to get the gold medal, and they’re lapping up liquor like they just turned twenty-one.
Liv, one of our defenders, points toward the bathroom, and I start walking in that direction.
Rissa, my assistant captain who never lets anything get to her, is hunched over the bathroom sink looking miserable and defeated. I feel the anger spike again,but not at Rissa. It’s at the interruption. The fact that I had something good for once, and it was yanked away.
“Hey.” My voice is low and steady as I toss my hallway-braided hair over my shoulder. I try not to point out the fact that puking in the toilet is a lot easier to clean up than the bathroom sink.
Too late now.
My movements are automatic as I get her a glass of water and a cold washcloth. I gather her discarded gear off the floor and get irrationally angry as my braid keeps slipping forward over my neck while I clean.
Rissa is mumbling an apology, but it sounds more like she’s writing a drunken love song.
I exhale but try to keep it quiet. “It’s fine,” I say, even though it’s not fine. “Hydrate. Small sips.”
My mind keeps flashing back to Violet, the way she was looking up at me.
What could have happened had we not been interrupted?
The muscles in my jaw tighten.
This is what I signed up for.
Captain means I show up even when I don’t want to. Especially when I don’t want to.
I clean the sink, change out the washcloth, and make Rissa sit on the edge of her bed, still sipping water. I check the clock and calculate how much sleep she’ll get before morning practice.
Once everything is settled, I get the team back in their own rooms with instructions to hydrate and take Tylenol. When Rissa is horizontal and breathing steadily, I allow myself a second to lean against the wall.
I close my eyes, and just for a moment, I let myself feel the bitter frustration. The intense moment that I had to walk away from, and the fact that I didn’t get to choose.
Reaching up, I undo my braid and let my hair fall over my shoulders.
I’ll stop at my hotel room and then go back to Violet. I always finish what I start.
The hallway feels longer on the way back. I walk with the same steady stride I use on the ice before puck drop, but inside I’m still simmering. The captain mask is back in place, yet the frustration hasn’t burned off. It’s still sitting low in my chest.
I knock once on Violet’s door.
I hear footsteps before I hear the click of the lock.
When the door opens, I completely forget every speech I half-prepared on the walk over here.
She’s standing before me in a tiny white tank top and pink shorts that barely cover her ass. Her bare toes are curling as she stares at me, and I can’t help but notice that she’s either cold or turned on as her nipples stand at attention.
Violet looks like she’s been thinking too much. Waiting, but pretending she wasn’t. There’s a softness in her eyes that hits me harder than a body check ever has.
